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The way up Sagiri Mountain feels painfully familiar. It's been so many years since Giyuu last came here, and yet nothing has changed. When he takes the first step into the bamboo forest at the foot of the mountain, Giyuu feels smaller, younger, as if he went back in time. For a moment, all he can feel is the bubbling excitement of having earned the right to enter the forest, the chance to prove himself to his teacher. He inhales deeply, and as soon as the cold air pierces his lungs, Giyuu is back in the present.
So much has changed since he last climbed this mountain. He's lived a life of pretence as the Water Pillar, suffered silently through his guilt, and finally learned how to smile again and move forward for the people that gave their lives for him. Giyuu should be happy that they were victorious, and for the most part, he is. Muzan is dead, after all.
Muzan is dead and his life has lost its purpose. There is no longer any meaning to him being alive, so he needs to figure out a way to fill the emptiness inside. He's taken his time to work through all his past regrets until only one remained—and no matter how much this last experience would tear his heart apart, he knows that he can't run away from it any longer.
Ever since Tanjirou told him that he talked to Sabito all this time ago, Giyuu hasn't been able to think of anything else. Every waking minute, every second he didn't spend fighting, memories of Sabito flooded his mind to the point that he even started dreaming about him again. With his thoughts consumed by a mixture of guilt and gratitude, Giyuu has decided to confront Sabito and… and what? Apologise, thank him, ask him why he gave his life for Giyuu that day, ask him if he regrets his choice—Giyuu doesn't know yet, and the fear of the unknown keeps clinging tightly to his heart.
The bamboo has long since turned into a pine forest, with trees reaching all the way into the grey sky. The higher he climbs, the colder it gets, but Giyuu hasn't been bothered by the cold for years. All that matters right now is him getting closer to his destination, and when he spots the clearing a few minutes later, his breath hitches in his throat. Nothing has changed at all; the boulder still sits in the middle of the clearing, a thick rope tied around its middle with paper charms hanging from it.
Giyuu hesitates. He's hardly heard any sounds since he entered the forest, but now that his destination lies only a few steps away, it has become completely silent. He takes a deep breath, straightens his back and steps into the clearing to walk towards the boulder. When he's close enough to touch the cold stone by raising his arm in front of him, Giyuu stops and simply stares at it for a while, taking in its almost perfectly round shape and the cracks running all over the surface.
The bright grey sky is dripping its light onto the clearing and the cold air turns his breath visible. Giyuu is at a loss of what to do. He wonders if slicing the boulder would work, but just as he's about to draw his sword, a voice suddenly cuts through the silence.
“Took you long enough.”
Giyuu stumbles a few steps back and looks up. What surprises him isn't that he couldn't feel the presence of someone else, but how familiar the voice sounds. There's a boy sitting on top of the boulder now, and when he takes off the fox mask he's wearing to look at him, Giyuu feels his breathing stop for a moment.
Sabito doesn't look any older than the day he died, and the sight unsettles Giyuu. Even if he knew what to reply, he wouldn't have been able to say anything. At least he starts breathing again after Sabito clicks his tongue and raises his voice once more.
“You're still not over your habit of spacing out? The demons will get you if you don't pay attention,” Sabito adds with a sigh, and there's something so nostalgic about the way he scolds him that Giyuu reacts on instinct and purses his lips into a pout.
“Muzan is dead. There are no demons left that I need to pay attention to.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sabito's scowl turns into a broad grin. “You've kept Tanjirou alive, right? You've done well, I'm proud of you.”
Giyuu feels his cheeks heat up at the unexpected praise, followed by a rush of exhilaration. Suddenly, he's happier than he's been in years, because talking to Sabito like this isn't strange at all, it's exactly like it used to be. He doesn't even question how Sabito knows about the outcome of the war when he wasn't there when it happened, but maybe news travelled fast in the world of spirits, or maybe Urokodaki-san told him. Whatever it is, Giyuu doesn't care, because the only thing that matters is Sabito in front of him.
Sabito remains on the boulder, one knee propped up with his elbow resting on it, as he looks Giyuu over in silence. After a while, he seems to find what he's searching for and nods in approval.
“You look like a proper man now.”
Giyuu furrows his brows. “Because I am a man.”
“That's not what I mean.” Sabito chuckles, more softly than Giyuu has ever heard, and it makes his heart ache. “You didn't change at all.”
“It sounds like a bad thing when you say it like that.”
“It's not supposed to. I'm relieved, actually. I was afraid you would always stay a cry-baby.”
An almost cynical smiles tugs at Giyuu's lips. It's not that he hasn't felt like crying in the past years, he simply hasn't been able to. Ever since Sabito's death, Giyuu has been constantly going over every conversation they had in his head, memorising his words, internalising phrases, until he had convinced himself that Sabito would disapprove of his tears and sadness. He's unlearned how to cry for the sole purpose of pretending to be strong for someone who wasn't by his side any more.
It's not something he's eager to share, though, so Giyuu wonders what else to say. He's been lulled by the intimacy of the situation, by how natural it feels to talk to Sabito like this again, yet he hasn't said anything he originally wanted to yet. With a frown etched between his brows, Giyuu drops his gaze to the ground and tries to find the right words for the whirlwind of emotion raging in his head.
“You never said that living without you would be this hard,” he mutters eventually, his voice too loud in the silence of the forest. He sounds desperate even to his own ears and immediately hopes he doesn't upset Sabito.
Sabito only takes a heartbeat to respond, sounding more determined and reassuring than Giyuu has dared to hope.
“Because I wasn't planning on leaving you.” There's a hint of regret in Sabito's voice that Giyuu has never heard from him before. “I'm glad I could give my life to protect you, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't have preferred to spend it by your side. It's good the way it is, though. I'm glad you're alive, Giyuu.”
The words hit Giyuu with a force that almost knocks him off his feet. His hands start to shake and his heart feels like it's ready to jump out of his chest. He wants to raise his head but stops midway, suddenly too scared to look at Sabito. What if this is nothing but a dream? What if he wakes up and realises that Sabito isn't really there, that his forgiveness is something his own mind made up to soothe him?
“Oi, didn't I tell you a million times already? A man shouldn't cry.”
Sabito's voice pulls him out of his train of thought. At first, Giyuu doesn't know what he means, but then his vision is getting blurry. He reaches up to touch his cheeks and is surprised to find them wet.
For a moment, Sabito only looks at him in silence before jumping down from the boulder. He closes the distance between them and says, “Surviving on your own isn't easy, huh? I'm sorry for leaving you.”
Then Sabito carefully places a hand on his head and pulls him forward until Giyuu's forehead rests against his shoulder. Something inside Giyuu breaks and the tears start streaming down his face. He cries until he can hardly breathe any more; he screams and sobs and curses the world for taking Sabito from him.
Surrounded by the cold wind and Sabito's arms, Giyuu can't tell how much time has passed. When his sobs cease to shake his whole body, Sabito pulls away, grabs Giyuu gently by the shoulders and looks straight into his eyes.
“There's no other way to go but forward.”
Giyuu sniffles one last time and blinks his tears away. He knows that Sabito is right, so he tries his best to regain his composure and nods. “I know.”
“I want you to keep moving forward and live your life to the fullest. Not just for me, but for yourself.” He squeezes Giyuu's shoulders a bit too tightly. “Can you do that?”
Instead of answering on instinct, Giyuu takes his time to honestly think about the question. Living without Sabito by his side is the hardest and cruellest task life could've asked of him, but he'll manage. He's grown so much and met so many people he could call his friends and family now, and even if the most important part of his life is no longer by his side, he'll pull through.
Giyuu takes a deep breath and puts as much determination behind his words as he possibly can.
“I will. I'll live a long life, and when my time finally comes, I'll join you on the other side.”
Sabito smiles at him, and for a moment, Giyuu thinks he can see tears in the corners of his eyes. “You better take your time, you hear me? I don't mind waiting a bit longer.”
The words almost make him cry again. Giyuu nods and blinks a few times, and when he opens his eyes again, Sabito is gone. He whips his head around in confusion, fighting against the disappointment blooming in his chest. Only the realisation that his shoulders still feel warm where Sabito touched them calms him down.
Giyuu contemplates calling out Sabito's name, just to see if he might appear once more, but decides against it. He takes another look at the boulder and smiles, truly happy for the first time in years, and takes another deep breath. Then he turns around and descends Sagiri Mountain, determined to live a life without regrets until it was finally time for him and Sabito to reunite.