A Choice; A Decision

She clenched her trembling fingers—looking away.

And After a long pause. "Two completely different sides..."

Giyuu watched the way her fingers trembled, the way she looked away as if the answer was too heavy to speak.

He recognized that silence.

It wasn't because she didn't know the answer. It was because saying it aloud would make it real.

His gaze flickered to the haori she wore—Periwinkle, moving gently with the night breeze. A color too soft for someone who carried such weight in their eyes.

"Two completely different sides."

He repeated her words, as if testing them, feeling the weight of what she left unsaid.

Did she mean the way she fought? The way she pretended to be someone else? Or was it something deeper?

Still, he didn't press her. Not yet. If she wanted to run in circles around the truth, he would let her. But he wouldn't ignore it.

"Then which side is the real one?"

His words were quiet, but they struck like a blade. A question she couldn't avoid forever.

"None." She replies, biting her lips down to stop them from trembling.

. . .

This is a hard conversation for her. It's... heavy. it's stabbing deep.

She placed a little wooden box beside him, before she proceeds to leave.

"But I can't stop now." — "I can't afford it."

She then banished into the shadows. As always.

Giyuu didn't stop her.

He could have. He could have stood, said something, forced her to stay and answer. But he didn't.

Because he understood.

Some wounds weren't meant to be reopened so easily. Some answers weren't ready to be spoken.

So he let her disappear into the shadows, just as she always did.

But his gaze lingered on the spot where she had stood, on the space she had occupied only moments ago. Then, slowly, his eyes fell to the small wooden box beside him.

Shake daikon.

His favorite.

Giyuu stared at it for a long moment. It wasn't just food. It wasn't just a gift. It was something else. A message. A silent offering.

An apology? A thank you? A farewell?

He wasn't sure.

But as he reached out, his fingers brushing against the wood, he realized something.

She was running from something. From herself. From whatever truth weighed so heavily on her shoulders.

But despite that... she had still left this behind.

And maybe, just maybe—

That meant she didn't want to disappear completely.

~ ~ ~

A Few Days Later.

The world moved on as if that conversation had never happened.

Training continued. Missions were assigned. Slayers came and went, sharpening their swords, strengthening their bodies. Life in the Demon Slayer Corps was a constant cycle of survival. There was no time to stop, no time to dwell.

And yet, Giyuu found his thoughts returning to that night. To her words. To the way her fingers trembled when she clenched them. To the little wooden box she had left behind.

He hadn't mentioned it to anyone. He had simply taken the shake daikon, eaten it in silence, and let the weight of her unspoken message settle in his chest.

But he wasn't the type to ignore things.

And he knew—neither was she.

Slayers gathered in the large hall, their quiet murmurs blending with the rustling of parchment as missions were assigned. The higher-ranked slayers stood toward the front, while the newer ones lingered in the back, waiting for their orders.

She was there.

She always was. Always at the edge of the room, keeping to herself, blending into the background. To most, she was just another skilled slayer, competent but unremarkable. But to him?

She was a puzzle with missing pieces.

And he isn't the type to leave things unfinished.

He moved before he had fully decided to, stepping through the crowd with quiet precision. She had sensed him before he even reached her—He could tell by the way her shoulders tensed, the subtle shift in her stance. But she didn't turn around. Didn't acknowledge him.

Fine.

"You're going on a mission soon."

Not a question. A fact.

She exhaled softly before replying, her voice controlled.

"Of course. That's what we do."

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he watched her, noting the way she kept her gaze forward, as if pretending he wasn't there would make him go away.

"Alone?"

This time, she hesitated.

That was all the answer he needed.

"Where?"

She finally turned to face him, her expression unreadable.

"Does it matter, Hashira-sama?"

A challenge. A dismissal. A quiet plea to let it go.

But he wasn't the type to let things go.

"It does if you don't plan on coming back."

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

She didn't flinch, but he saw the flicker of something in her eyes. Something raw. Something close to breaking.

And for the first time, Giyuu realized—She wasn't just running from something.

She was running toward something. Toward an end. Toward a truth she couldn't escape.

And that—more than anything—was what made him speak his next words.

"I'm coming with you."

Not a request. Not a suggestion.

A decision.