The Weight of Restraint

Giyuu observed her movements carefully as they sparred.

She was skilled—there was no denying that. Every strike she made was precise, every block calculated. Her footwork was steady, controlled, almost textbook in execution. To the watching slayers, she was impressive, her technique clean and refined.

But to Giyuu... something was missing.

This wasn't the same girl who fought like a storm that night, who moved like a shadow with sharp, deadly precision. That girl had fought with raw instinct, experience, and something deeper—something dangerous. But here, in this sparring match, she was holding back.

Intentionally.

He parried her strikes with ease, never attacking with full force, just enough to test her. She met every attack flawlessly, but never went beyond what was expected. Never let herself move beyond what a normal young slayer would.

She was hiding.

And Giyuu hated liars.

The spar ended when he stepped in close, shifting his stance at the last moment to disarm her. With a flick of his wrist, her wooden sword slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground. A simple ending, one that could happen to any skilled yet still-learning slayer. It wasn't a loss that would shame her. Just a lesson.

But Giyuu wasn't looking at her technique anymore. He was looking at her eyes.

Still guarded. Still distant—Still...

Pretending.

"You're skilled."

His voice was neutral, betraying none of his thoughts. Around them, the other slayers murmured, some impressed, some disappointed they couldn't see a longer match.

"But skill without intent is just empty movement."

His words were meant for her alone. A quiet challenge. A warning. He wasn't fooled. He wasn't going to let her keep pretending.

And from the slight shift in her expression—the smallest flicker of something behind her eyes—He knew she understood.

She wasn't going to be able to avoid him forever.

"Exactly..." Her eyes unwavering, "I'm aware."

Giyuu watched as she bowed and stepped away, blending back into the group like nothing had happened. Like she hadn't just confirmed exactly what he suspected.

She knew he caught her. And yet, he hadn't exposed her.

Why?

He wasn't sure himself. Maybe because he understood what it was like to hide something. To carry burdens in silence. Or maybe... because he wanted to see how long she would keep up this act. How long before she slips.

But for now, he said nothing. He let her walk away, her presence disappearing into the sea of slayers who still had no idea who she really was.

Fine. If she wanted to pretend, he would let her.

For now.

But he was watching.

And the next time she slipped—because she would—He would be there.

~~~~

Later That Evening

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the training grounds bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Most of the slayers had retired for the night, exhausted from the day's rigorous training. The air was cool, carrying the distant sound of flowing water from the nearby river.

Giyuu sat on the engawa of his estate, his gaze fixed on the sky, though his mind was elsewhere.

She was hiding something. That much was obvious.

Her skill, her control—it wasn't just talent. It was restraint. Intentional restraint. During their spar, she hadn't fought like the girl he had seen that night, the one who had moved with deadly precision and raw instinct. That girl had fought to survive. The one today? She had fought to blend in.

And he had let her.

Why?

He wasn't sure. Maybe because he wanted to see what she would do next. Maybe because he had recognized the same quiet weight in her eyes that he saw in himself.

Or because he knew that whatever she was hiding, it was only a matter of time before it caught up to her. And when it did, he would be there.

A soft rustle of movement drew his attention.

Even before he turned his head, he knew it was her.

She stood just beyond the training grounds, half-hidden in the shadows of the trees. Her presence was quiet, careful—But Giyuu had spent years honing his awareness. He didn't miss things easily.

"You're not as invisible as you think."

His voice was calm, unreadable, carrying through the night air without force. He didn't move, didn't turn fully to face her. He simply waited.

"I wasn't meant to be invisible.."

She replied quietly, stepping out of the shadows.

"You didn't expose me..." — "Why?"

"It's not like it would do you any good, Hashira-sama."

Giyuu didn't immediately respond.

His gaze remained steady as she stepped closer, the moonlight casting soft shadows on her face. There was no hesitation in her words, no fear—only quiet curiosity, edged with something else. Maybe frustration. Maybe relief.

She expected him to expose her. Expected him to use his authority as a Hashira to demand answers.

But he hadn't.

"You're right. It wouldn't do me any good."

His tone was as calm as ever, but there was a weight behind his words. He wasn't saying he didn't care—Just that exposing her wasn't his goal. Not yet.

He studied her, searching for something in her expression, in the way she held herself. Even now, she was guarded. She was always guarded. Like someone who had spent too long looking over their shoulder, waiting for the moment they were caught.

"But it wouldn't do you any good either."

A quiet statement. A warning.

He wasn't the only demon slayer—Wasn't the only Hashira. He wasn't the only one watching.

If she wasn't careful, someone else would expose her. Someone who wouldn't give her the patience he had.

The wind shifted between them, rustling the trees. He could feel the weight of the unspoken words between them.

"You fought differently that night. You held back today."

It was a fact. She could deny it, but they both knew the truth.

Finally, he turned his head fully to face her. His blue eyes were steady.

"So tell me... what are you running from?"