Archive of Our Own

It's snowing the day Giyuu finally opens the letters.

The ground is icy, blades of grass frosted so hard they crunch as he walks on them. He starts with the four from Shinobu, eyeing the two from Tengen with an odd sort of dread. There's one from Rengoku and another two from Mitsuri. It doesn't surprise him that there's none from Iguro or Tokito. The lack from Himejima doesn't surprise him either, given the obvious.

It's been four months since Muzans defeat. The ache where his arm used to be doesn't hurt as much, anymore. It'd been a team effort from Yushiro, Shinobu and some doctors to make a prosthetic that worked. The arm suspends from his body by a leather shoulder saddle and single strap that passes under the opposite underarm. Yushiro and Lady Tamayo had prepared a whole plethora of prosthetics and demon-specific medicine prior to the fight. What was left of Yushiro's blood demon art was carved into the underside of his arm, letting it lift with a thought and only minor effort.

It wasn't the same as having an actual arm, too heavy and clumsy, but it was so much more then he ever expected to have after.

Sanemi had lost fingers in the fight, but denied any offer of a prosthetic. He switched sword fighting arms and challenged himself daily with a bokun and some dummys instead, despite there being no reason to fight anymore.

He told Giyuu that he needed something to pass the days now that killing demons wasn't an option.

Giyuu had spoken to Shinobu little since the battle, since his attempt. The events had happend so soon after each other that there hadn't been any time to reach out. She needed a brace to walk these days, the poison and damage she had sustained from Douma left her too weak to walk alone. Canes and occasionally a wheelchair were there when even a brace wasn't enough.

The fact that she was alive at all after being consumed is a miracle.

Kanao had been the one to cut her from the demons corpse, to feed her a handful of his flesh. Just enough to give her strength. She'd observed Genya enough to know just how much. She herself didn't leave the battle whole, a red patch over her left eye marked what she'd lost.

Tanjiro had never regained sight in his eye either, though he rarely wore a patch. Rarely did he wear the prosthetic arm he'd been given either. He seemed happy, though. At peace. He and his now human sister had all but taken over the left wing at Giyuu's estate, turning half the empty rooms into places for their friends to stay. Nezuko's eyes still weren't quite right, and there were stretch marks on her body that no fifteen year old should have, but she too was at peace.

Giyuu couldn't lie and say he hated their company, because he didn't. He was glad for it, so glad. Them being close, making room for themselves, them being where he could always see them, it soothed a part of him that had ached for decades.

The rooms they made up were often occupied by their friends. The boar boy that no longer wore the animal head, that now clipped his hair back with a small, blue butterfly, that now wore a haori over his shoulders. Even if with no shirt underneath. The blonde whiner who rarely complained now. Who had scars cracking over his skin like porcelain, whose hair had grown longer than Giyuu's own.

And Genya.

Genya whose hair had never returned to fully black, his pupils stained yellow, his teeth sharp. Who had a scar down the centre of his face — his entire body — that would never heal. The itching would leave him in tears some days, the ache from remembering what it had been like to be cleaved in half making him bed bound. The recovery was slow, so slow. There were days when Sanemi refused to leave his side. Haunted by the memory of almost loosing him.

His friends tried to make it better. Kanao would come and just sit with him. Zenitsu would play the shamisen. Tanjiro would go in and talk, smiling around the scars now littering his face. Nezuko seemed to help the most just by being there. She understood in a way no one else could.

Tokitos visits were rarer, given the distance of where they lived, but he came whenever his body would allow it. Tengen often came with him, new prosthetic gleaming like silver. Some days he would bring all the children in his charge, and the three surviving Ubuyashiki were quiet, hesitating. So slowly were they beginning to express themselves, learning that there was no longer any danger in their individuality. That the demons and their curse was finally gone.

One of the girls wore her hair like her late mothers, the other cut hers shorter. Kiriya grew his hair longer. Every change was met with an onslaught of pure praise from Tengen, something he would gloat about to all who listened. It helps, Giyuu thinks. He was by far the best to teach them this.

They didn't talk much when the man came over. Not about Muzan, not about before. They were hashiras, demons or not, and the needs of others came before themselves. Tengen talked to Tanjiro, to Zenitsu. Gave advice for life without an arm and an eye, advice for dealing with the overbearing sounds of the world.

Only ever said 'hello' and 'goodbye' to Giyuu and Sanemi.

He didn't mind.

Himejima took on what was left of the demon slayer corps. The children and barely adults who had lost their friends, their leader, their purpose in life. He built a large estate on his land, gave them food and a place to stay. Dug the graves for the fallen with his own bare hands. When you went up to his mountain these days, you could find trained swordsman with arms full of cats, worrying about crops instead of lives. Himejima would offer their services to towns that suffered through disasters, to people who had nothing. The demons were gone but Himejima's need to help others had stayed.

The flame hashira's estate was the quietest, but by no means the emptiest. Rengoku and his brother lived far from their father, the contact between them sparse. Kanroji's estate was the closest to them, and she and Iguro were frequent visitors to the flame hashira. It wasn't unusual to wake and find two talking crows struggling with a basket of goods between, noted towards Giyuu and the others. It seems she filled her days without demons with baking, and Iguro filled his with doting on her.

With all that had happend, all that they had to recover from, Giyuu thinks he can be forgiven for putting the letters on the back burner of his mind.

But it's been four months, the new year has come and gone, and the letters are still there. They don't taunt him, not anymore. It's a haunting sort of curiosity. Almost masochism but he'll deny it. He doesn't think what's in them will be bad, will make him spiral, and that hope within itself is what gives him the courage to open them.

Shinobu's first begins like this:

*

Dear Tomioka,

I will not lie to you and say I have no idea why you left in such a hurry yesterday, nor will I deny waiting at your door for your return home. I will, however, deny breaking in and searching your estate.

Honestly, you've worried me for quite some time. Long before yesterdays meeting. I believe I understand what you're going through, as much as I can. As ugly as your haori is I've always known why you wear it. I suppose I'm just lucky my sister had better taste.

There is no shame in what you're going through, though I know those words will be lost on you. Truly it's a miracle no hashira before you has fallen to the same fate. But I'm certain they thought about it. I know I have. I know you've noticed the poison, I know you at least suspect my plan. But you've stayed quiet. You offered me your arm when I struggled to stand and never waited for thanks. You took my food when I struggled to eat so the others would not notice. I owe you for that.

If you come to my estate I swear not to say a word. I will fix the damage and we never have to speak of this again.

— K.Shinobu

*

Giyuu blinks at the words. At the warm white of the paper contrasted with the harsh cold of the snow. There's something like surprise in his chest. Like
warmth.

Her second is similar.

*

Dear Tomioka,

I have been patient, but as the days pass on you are beginning to worry me. Rengoku walked by your estate and said you've left the letters we sent on your step. He's moved them to the window sill so the rain doesn't soil them.

I know you are a solitary creature by nature, and I know you don't like to talk at all, let alone about your feelings. But if you would only read my last letter you would know that you needn't fear coming to see me. I won't make you talk. I'll even send Tanjiro on an errand if that's what scares you. He's kind enough not to question it.

How are your wounds? Did you stitch them or just wrap them? Are they disinfected? What did you stitch with, if at all? Are you changing them regularly?

I'm a doctor, Tomioka. I'm perfectly capable of patient confidentiality. Friends or not I won't say a word about your condition if you don't want me to. Just please come in so I can make sure you're well. We can't afford to be down a hashira right now, not when we're so close to the end. I know you know that. Just come in so I can tend to you're wounds, then you can happily return to your hermit lifestyle.

— K.Shinobu

*

The third is less kind.

*

Dear Tomioka,

Are you even there? Have you left the estate? Ran from the corps? The master will not answer my questions. He says simply that you are resting. Does that mean you're dead? Are you dead, Tomioka? You're not allowed to ignore me even if you are. I still expect an answer.

Don't make me tell Tanjiro you're ill. You won't be able to hide from him.

Perhaps you're on vacation. The coast, perhaps? A city escape? Maybe you've had yourself admitted somewhere. No, no. Far too sensible for you. Perhaps you've dug a hole to hide in. How sad, Tomioka.

Himejima knows where you are, doesn't he? I know the man too well, he can cry and pray all he likes but I know he's keeping something from me. I know you're not on his mountain, I've checked all the spots Kanae used to hide in and you're not there. Himejima knowing implies the involvement of someone else. It can't be the master, none of us are allowed to know his true residence, and you're not in his guest house.

A fellow hashira then. Certainly not Iguro or Shinazugawa. Not Himejima nor I. Rengoku? No, he would not lie to me. I can't imagine Kanroji would either, but I suppose it's possible. Tokito? Perhaps the most likely.

If I'm right, you won't receive this letter, so you won't be able to heed this warning. I am going to pay the mist hashira a visit tomorrow, and if you are there, I'll drag you out by your senile birds nest hair.

— K.Shinobu

*

Ah. Yes, that's far more like the Shinobu he knows. He almost smiles at the thought of her rage when she found out how wrong she'd been. So quickly she had dismissed the possibility of Sanemi being the one he was with.

He doesn't recall her exact reaction during that meeting, only her twitching expression and honey sharp words.

If he'd been in a better state of mind and read the letters he would've laughed in her face when she realised.

The final letter is the most hostile.

*

Dearest bastard,

So Mitsuri knows, but I don't? Tomioka, I'm hurt. I thought we were closer then that. Oh she tried to lie, but I've seen beetles scream for their lives better. Her face turned so red when I questioned her I honestly thought she'd been struck with a sudden illness.

It was almost as bad as Tanjiro's.

So interesting how a boy who didn't even know you weren't home now suddenly knows about your 'change in residence'. You aren't at Tokito's, and I searched, nor is there a secret bunker anywhere on your estate.

You would think me some kind of hulking monster they way you're hiding. Can a lady not simply be concerned for her friend? Can I not simply want to make sure you're well? It is not like I am going to gobble you up, you know. I am trying to save your life. Knowing you, you've stitched yourself into an infection, and that's a far worse death then anything you can do to yourself. You can lose limbs to infection, you know. How will you run from me without legs?

Die if you must, but know that I am trying to help you.

Know also, that if I find out where you are before that, I will save your life whether you like it or not.

— K.Shinobu

*

Giyuu stares at the finished letters for a while. At some point Nezuko had brought him a tray of tea, and the smell of herbs float up to him. The sun has risen to fully peak and the reflecting light against the snow is blinding.

It reminds him of the snowy mountain he found Tanjiro on. The one he rescued Genya from.

Strange how such small things can change so much.

Helping Shinobu when she felt weak, eating her leftovers, they hadn't felt like favours to be repaid when he did them. Simply what was right at the time. Something he could do without messing up. Was that why she had tried so hard to befriend him even when he scorned her?

How kind she was, even when she thought she wasn't.

There's still two from Tengen, two from Mitsuri and one from Rengoku. He can't read Tengens, not yet, so he picks up Rengokus.

*

To my friend, Tomioka,

How are you? Last weeks meeting was unfortunately eventful. Could have been more unfortunate still, but you are far stronger than anyone gave you credit for. I hope you are well. I came by your estate to see how you are fairing but you seemed to be out. No matter. I will come by again at the end of this week.

I've been meaning to thank you for helping me walk to the masters estate. It was due to my own pride that I refused Shinobu's crutches for the journey and had to rely on you. Thank you for helping me. I meant what I said, I owe you a debt for helping me, especially when you had injuries of your own. More then any of us knew, even.

You have a good heart, Tomioka. I have known you for five years now, and never have I seen your faith waver nor your intuition fail. No other hashira would have seen the true goodness in Kamado Nezuko like you did. It's only due to your kindness that we have the chance we do now.

I hope you know just how valuable you are to the order. You created the eleventh water form. You have saved more people than you or I could possible count. You have shown kindness to those who would not, even on your worst of days.

Thank you, Tomioka, for being who you are.

— Sincerely, Kyoujurou Rengoku

*

He was a fool to believe that Rengoku's letter would be easier to bare. Rengoku, with his infinite kindness and endless compassion. Giyuu should have known how devastating his letter would be. He should have prepared.

Something wet drops on the paper, and Giyuu goes to wipe it with his prosthetic hand before he remembers. He looks at the wood bending the papers and shudders out a breath. He has to set the letters aside for a moment, has to take a moment to breathe. Reaches toward Nezukos tea and takes a sip of the cooling liquid as he lets the emotions pass.

Somewhere behind him, in the estate, he can hear Kanao's soft, lifting voice being met with Inosuke's rough one. She sounds like she's explaining something. He sounds like he's struggling to understand.

Across from Giyuu, by the front gate, he can still see the small footprints Aoi left on the white when she came to visit earlier. She may still be here, Giyuu isn't actually sure.

He finishes the tea and picks up Mitsuri's letters, the faded and indecipherable scent of perfume still lingers on the paper.

*

Dear Mr. Tomioka,

Hello, how are you? I know I haven't written to you in quite some time, ever since you lended me your notes on creating your own form. Can you believe that was so long ago? I was still Rengoku's tsugoku then! I don't think I ever returned those to you, and for that I sincerely apologise.

I was thinking of making some salmon daikon later this week and was wondering if you would perhaps like to come over and have some? It's completely fine if not! I'd be more then happy to send a parcel! Truthfully I've gotten so used to making large meals adding an extra portion would be no hindrance.

I was also going to make a new western recipe for dessert. Truly it varies on my success for such things, so an extra opinion would be welcome!

Please let me know as soon as you can!

— Sincerely, Mitsuri Kanroji ♡

*

Giyuu finds himself smiling at the paper. Whether it's for the words or the mention of salmon daikon, he couldn't say.

The second is hastily written. The corners bent like it was folded wrongly at first. It starts with an apology.

*

Dear Mr. Tomioka,

I am so so sorry. I did not mean to let it slip to Mr Himejima where you moved to! Mr Iguro said you were resting and I'm so sorry if I interrupted that. Honestly, I don't know how it happend! One moment he was visiting and he drew a kitten out of his sleeve and the next I was telling him all about you and Mr Shinazugawa!

Maybe that kitty was magic? It could have used its cuteness as a form of hypnosis, eI suppose.

Oh, not that there's anything to tell about you and Mr Shinazugawa! I only told him what Mr Iguro told me and it truly wasn't much! Only that you were now living together in the wind estate and that Mr Shinazugawa was acting very protective and kept staring at you when your back was turned. In a very platonic way, I'm sure! I'm not trying imply anything, I swear!

Again, I'm truly very sorry. Me and my big mouth will be firmly closed from now on.

— Sincerely very sorry, Mitsuri Kanroji

P.S Please don't tell Mr Shinazugawa it was me who told. Pretty please.

*

Giyuu was laughing into his sleeve halfway through the letter. A soft, hoarse sound. It'd been a while since he truly laughed.

In truth, he'd always known who told Himejima where he was. He'd known the moment Sanemi confessed to telling Iguro that Kanroji would be the second to know. That's just how it was. But Himejima bringing a kitten to entice her? That was news. A dirty play, also. Sanemi had said the man was far more nefarious then anyone realised.

Using kittens as a form of manipulation probably wasn't  what he had been picturing, though.

The only letters left now are Tengens. Giyuu doesn't truly know how to express his hesitation towards them. Maybe it was because Tengen was one of the two surviving hashira who had held the title before he joined. He was three years older than Giyuu, and at sixteen that had seemed so much more than it was.

He had been self assured and open in a way Giyuu wasn't. Actually, he was everything Giyuu had never thought he could be. Everything he'd wished he could. It isn't like that anymore, not as much. But part of the insecurity lingers.

And he was the first hashira to know. The first to tell everyone just what it was Giyuu had done. How he'd failed. How he'd failed the order, them, and himself.

He'd seen through him before that, as well. Just from the way he'd held Rengoku he'd been able to tell Giyuu was more injured then he said. A part of him was still scared Tengen would take one look at him and figure out a secret Giyuu himself didn't know.

The judgement from an elder. The insecurity from someone who seemed everything Giyuu wasn't. The fear of being known. That's what Tengen represented to him. That's why he hesitated, hand hovering over the final two letters.

It won't be that bad, he tries to reason. The others hadn't been. Why would Tengens be worse?

He can't make his hand move.

The squeak of a hinge and a gurgle of noise jars him from his thoughts. He looks up and sees — sees Tengen. There's a bundle of red tucked in the crook of his arm and he's paused, head bowing and white hair loose as he tends to the noisy thing. Kuina, the Ubuyashiki sister who cut her hair, is with him. She has one hand on Tengens sleeve and is peering up at the bundle, purple eyes bright.

Giyuu goes to stand, to greet him, to direct them to Tanjiro and the others, but Tengen looks up and sees him first. And he smiles. Big and bright. He walks across the otherwise untouched lawn, breaking the perfect white to stop in front of him. Adjusts his stance to dip slightly and show Giyuu what he's carrying.

It's a baby.

"It's a boy," Tengen says. Grinning like he can't stop. "Tenma. We haven't been able to take him outside before, otherwise we would've been here weeks ago. Look at him, isn't he perfect?"

The babes hair is as white as his father and adopted sisters, and even with eyes half closed Giyuu can see the blue underneath. He leans closer, lets Tengen angle his arm down before slowly reaching out, watching Tengen for any sign of protest. He finds none. The new father lets him reach out and gently touch the babes forehead without complaint.

The skin is soft, fleshy. Eyes blink open, surrounded by wrinkles of skin. The baby makes a noise and swings his fist, bubbles coming out of his lips. The hand latches onto Giyuu's smallest finger, grip surprisingly strong. Giyuu stops breathing.

Tengen beams.

"Isn't he just the flashiest thing you've ever seen? And look at that grip strength! Already following in his daddys footsteps."

Kuina smiles and adjusts the blanket around the infant. "He's so quiet," She whispers, like a secret. "He didn't even cry when he was born."

"He may not cry much but that doesn't mean he's quiet. He certainly has a lot to say for himself." And then Tengen does something impossible. He leans down and deposits Tenma into Giyuu's good arm before he can stop him.

Tengen stands up straight again, stretching the one arm he can, the silver one staying limp. The movement is deliberately casual but Giyuu can see the way he watches him hastily adjust his grip, muscle memory from his time spent at his fathers side helping him through surprise labours in the middle of the night, when the clinic was closed and people would bang on their doors in desperation.

His sister, Tsutako, would always hold the womens hand, wipe the sweat from their face and check their pulse with his father ordered her to. Giyuu would run around and fetch what ever his father needed, staying close by his side so he didn't miss the next order over the sound of screaming.

There was muscle memory from holding Nezuko, too, from when she regressed. Though it was usually bigger than this.

The babe is so small he threatens to disappear in the fabric he is wrapped in.

Tengen makes a small noise, but doesn't take his son back. Just smiles like he's satisfied with something. He opens his mouth to speak and Giyuu sees the way his good eye drops on the letter in his lap, the open ones next to him, and he closes his mouth and blinks.

"You still have those?" He asks.

Pressing his lips together, Giyuu looks down at Tenma. He really is quiet. Silent as he studies the man holding him. His fist is still swinging aimlessly, so Giyuu offers the wooden pinky of his prosthetic. It's an acceptable substitute, the babe is free to twist and slobber over it as much as he likes.

Quiet babies were never usually a good sign with his father. He told Giyuu that the best noise in the world during labour is the sound of a babies cry. Giyuu had disagreed, too many nights of earache. But he never forgot the night he didn't hear the baby cry. Never forgot how wrong it felt, how his father and the mother had panicked.

He wonders if Shinobu delivered this one. If she panicked when he didn't cry.

Tengen is watching him, deliberating.

He sends Kuina inside, tells her to find a warm spot to set the baby down, maybe go ask for some sheets from the kids or Sanemi. When she leaves Tengen brushes the open letters aside and sits down beside Giyuu. Picks one up aimlessly and scans the contents.

Giyuu can tell by the lack of water damage and scent that it's Rengokus.

"You never read these before, did you."

It's phrased like a question but Giyuu knows it's not. Still, he answers. "No. I wasn't here."

The former hashira hums, keeps reading the letter before looking at the others. He turns them over and flicks his eye over the contents before dropping them again. He looks at the unopened ones his son now sits on.

"Saved the best for last, huh?" Tengen reaches out and snags the pair. "Well, let me save you some time. The only thing this first letter says is 'I'm sorry.'"

Giyuu blinks. "'I'm sorry'? Why would it say that?"

He shrugs. "Because I am. Because I was. Guess it makes sense that you never read it given the way you acted the next time we saw each other. I'm sorry for telling other people your business, sorry for not taking better care of you when you joined the hashira."

"Taking care of me?'" Giyuu repeats, incredulous. "Why would it be your job to take care of me?"

"Because you were young and new. And I was already a hashira. I knew what it was like to be thrown into the ass end of this hashira bullcrap, I should've given you a helping hand. Even the girls said so. I mean, I did when Rengoku became a hashira, tried to when your man became one, but I never offered with you. It was shitty."

The baby swings Giyuu's pinky hard enough to make it creak.

Truthfully, Giyuu hadn't noticed the double standard. He'd been so caught up in himself, in his own self imposed isolation, he had never noticed the others ignoring him. It's what made Shinobu's attempts stand out so strong.

"I didn't realise," He admitted. "I probably wouldn't have taken it."

"Really? I thought for sure you did. Beat myself up about it more then once," Tengen leans back on his arms, looking up at the clear sky. "It wasn't your fault. You just reminded me of my little brother. The living one, anyway. And I hate him. I thought you had that same look in your eye, all cold and distant. It's why I encouraged Iguro and Shinazugawa's old bullshit. Thought it was my intuition giving me a heads up. Wasn't until that meeting that I realised how wrong I was, how I was seeing things that weren't there."

Giyuu doesn't know what to say. He'd known Tengen had siblings but didn't know any still lived. Didn't know Tengen had disliked him like Iguro and Sanemi used to. He just thought they weren't close. He'd appreciated his aloofness, honestly. Never taken it for the ignorance it actually was. He wonders at himself, at how he never noticed something apparently so obvious.

He says nothing.

Tengen continues, "Of course, when the meeting happend, I realised what I fuck up I made. I blurted it out to everyone like that would magically undue everything. It didn't, then I had something else to feel guilty for. That's what this is," He explains, holding up the second folded letter. "Well, not entirely. I was definitely more on the defensive side when I wrote it. Then I saw you again and you wouldn't even look at me. You wouldn't even yell. I wish you had. It would've made me feel a hell of a lot better about myself, not that I deserved to. Kept trying to provoke you and get it over with, you know?"

"I don't like yelling," admits Giyuu, quiet. No one in his house had yelled. It wasn't a habit he got into. When he fought, sometimes. If he got worked up enough, if he had to.

A sigh falls from Tengens lips. "Yeah," He says, "I noticed. Didn't help that your hair's all spikey like his, either. I convinced myself of it, and for that I really am sorry."

Tenma fidgets in Giyuu's arm and he's adjusts, moving the blue of his sleeve out of arms reach. "You have nothing to apologise for. I didn't notice, and you didn't actually do anything to me. No harm done."

"There was, actually. Complacency harm or whatever. I could've helped you, should've at least tried. I had no good reason to single you out like that, or to encourage Shinazugawa and Iguro to do the same. I even tried to 'warn' Rengoku, not that he listened. Maybe if I had helped, if I hadn't given you a hand in isolating yourself, you wouldn't have gotten that bad."

"My illness isn't your responsibility, Tengen. It's mine. You didn't know, it's not on you."

Tengen looks down at his son, white hair falling on his covered eye. "Maybe. Let's just agree to disagree, yeah?"

There isn't really a chance to respond further because the door behind them slides open and out comes the kids. Tanjiro heads straight for Giyuu, looking over his shoulder to coo at the new baby. Nezuko isn't much better, she slides into Giyuu's other side to get a better look.

Then it's chaos as the rest of the house join. Kanao, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Aoi, even Genya comes out, helped by Kuina and Urokodaki. Sanemi is behind them, brows scrunched as he hangs back, almost purposefully.

Giyuu hands Tenma off to Nezuko with Tengens permission. Stands and watches his spot be quickly filled by baby struck teenagers. Sanemi snags his hand as he walks to him, pulls him into his side as they watch the scene unfold. Zenitsu is declaring the kid already leagues more handsome than his father, which Tengen laughs off. Kuina is telling them about something Tenma did the other day as the baby snags some of Nezuko's hair. Tanjiro gently strokes the top of his white hair while Inosuke grips the back of his shirt, peering at the baby like he doesn't know what it is. Aoi whispers something in his ear as Kanao coos.

"Ugh," Sanemi says, faux disgust in his tone. "More Tengens? That's the last thing we need."

But his eyes are on the small amount of the baby they can see, the tip of his foot is poking out the blanket and kicking excitedly at all the attention.

"It's cute," Giyuu murmurs back, a confession. "Kuina says it's hardly cried yet."

"Give it time. Wait till it realises what screaming is, then people will stop finding it so cute."

Giyuu's lips curl into a smile. "You don't want to steal it?"

Sanemi's purple is flick to his and away again. He snorts. "No. We've got enough kids here, thanks. Any more and people will think we're running an orphanage."

"I heard Iguro and Kanroji want a kid now that Muzan is dead. Are you going to ignore that one, too?"

"Please, it took Iguro years to even tell the woman his first name, there's no rush to prepare for babies on that front."

"Are you sure? They might want to make up for lost time."

"They aren't us," Sanemi replies, quick. "They aren't going to rush into things."

"We rushed into things?"

"... Maybe we weren't the best example. You know what I mean."

Tengens laugh draws their attention back to the group. He has his son in his arms again and is stepping onto the veranda and heading straight for them. Sanemi stiffens.

"Oh no, absolutely not." He says, sharp. "I don't want it."

"Aw, Shinazugawa, you're breaking my heart! I mean, if two one-armed men can handle him, I'm sure a seven-fingered one can," And he holds out the babe.

Sanemi backs up. "That's not what I meant. Keep the shitter away from me."

"You know you want to,"

"I don't. Give him to Tanjiro or something."

"Giyuu," Tengen almost whines, "Help me out here."

He looks between them, not really sure he can. The look Sanemi gives him is daring. Giyuu takes the baby from Tengen carefully with both arms and presses it into Sanemi's chest.

The same instinct that came back to Giyuu hits Sanemi twice as hard. His hands snap up immediately, and Giyuu quickly backs away, leaving him standing there awkwardly.

"Do you... know how to hold a baby?" Tengen asks, amused.

Sanemi scowls, immediately adjusting so he's cradling the back of the babes head in the crook of his arm, propping so he can see. It's an obviously practiced motion, one that makes Genya look away with wet eyes.

Something on Tengens face softens.

"Ah, good. I don't have to worry about you dropping him, then. Well, I'm beat. I think I'm gonna go have a nap. You don't mind, do you, Giyuu?"

Sanemi breaks eye contact with Tenman, looking panicked. "I mind! Take your damn kid, Uzui."

"Hey, last I checked this was the water estate, not the wind. Giyuu's the master here."

"It's fine," Giyuu says, "There's a bedroom down the hall."

He gets a betrayed look from Sanemi that he smiles at while Tengen bids them goodnight. The kids immediately gather around the baby again, and consequently Sanemi. His eyes drop back down to his precious bundle and Giyuu knows he isn't imagining the way he thaws. The almost wondrous care he uses to brush the hair from his face.

The sun is shining and the snow trampled and white. The letters lay forgotten on the steps.

It's a good day.