A brave confession
Time slipped quietly through day after day of grueling training. On the surface, the days flowed by slowly and peacefully, like a stream in the mountains. But every member of the Demon Slayer Corps knew that beneath this calm surface lay a surging undercurrent capable of swallowing everything. Muzan and his demons, like ferocious beasts lurking in the shadows, could suddenly strike and shatter this hard-earned peace.
On the training ground, the sweat and cheers never cease. Under Jiuzhu's dedicated guidance, the younger generation of players are growing at an astonishing rate.
Tanjiro's swordsmanship grew more refined, switching between Fire God Kagura and Water Breathing with ever-greater ease. Each swing of the flame, imbued with the power of the sun, carried a searing aura. While Agatsuma Zenitsu still frequently clutched his head and screamed, "I'm going to die, I'm really going to die," his Thunder Breathing became ever more condensed under the extreme pressure, the golden flashes swifter, faster, and more elusive. Hashibira Inosuke, combining his bestial instincts with the meticulous control taught by Shiro, wielded his twin blades with less ferocity and more cunning and precision.
The three of them joined forces and were able to withstand more than a dozen moves from Yiyong. Although they were still completely suppressed, it was a world of difference compared to the initial situation where they collapsed at the first touch.
And at the edge of the training ground, there is an exceptionally quiet and warm corner.
Nezuko, now able to speak normally and with her figure stabilized in a young girl's form, sat obediently beside Shiro in a clean kimono. She no longer needed to stay in the box and could move freely in the sunlight, though she was still a little sleepy.
"Sister Bai," Nezuko's voice was crisp and a little soft. She looked at her brother who was sweating profusely in the field, her pink eyes full of dependence and a little bit of heartache, "My brothers and others, they are working so hard."
Bai smiled gently and handed her a piece of the prepared dessert, but his eyes kept following the dark blue figure in the field. "Because they have their reasons for becoming stronger. To protect you, and to protect everyone else."
Nezuko nodded vigorously, taking small nibbles of her snack before looking back at Shiro, her eyes sparkling. "Sister Shiro and Mr. Tomioka, you have a really good relationship."
Bai's cheeks flushed slightly upon hearing this, and she subconsciously touched her belly, where a subtle feeling of fullness still lingered. A secret, instinctive anticipation grew within her. She whispered to Nezuko, "When you grow up, you'll meet someone you want to be with forever."
The whistle for the training break sounded.
Yiyong sheathed his sword and walked to the sidelines. His dark blue uniform was soaked with sweat, and his hair stuck to his skin, but his breathing remained steady. Bai immediately grabbed the water bottle and towel he had prepared and rushed over to meet him.
"Thank you for your hard work, my husband." She handed him the kettle naturally, then stood on tiptoe and carefully wiped the sweat from his forehead and neck with a towel. Her movements were gentle and focused, and her dark eyes were filled with undisguised love.
Yiyong stood quietly, looking down at her, letting her take care of him. Only when facing Bai did the cold and aloof aura around him completely melt away and become gentle.
At an angle that no one else could see, such as when Bai was adjusting his collar, she would quickly move forward and place a kiss on his cheek as light and quick as a feather.
Yiyong's ears would turn red at a visible speed, but he would not dodge, but his eyes would become deeper, as if silently promising something. Sometimes, when no one was paying attention, he would quickly shake her hand, his fingertips gently scratching her palm, causing a subtle throbbing.
These subtle acts of intimacy, like pebbles thrown into a lake, created ripples of happiness in their hearts and became the sweetest comfort during these tense years of preparation.
Nezuko watched from the side, covering her mouth with her little hands and laughing secretly, her pink eyes filled with longing for this beautiful relationship.
The setting sun's afterglow stretched their shadows, interweaving them. Training continued, the drive to become stronger never stagnating. But in this brief moment of respite, the warmth of love and being loved sustained them as they faced the inevitable, fate-deciding final battle. They cherished every moment of peace, knowing it might be fleeting.
As night fell, the moonlit courtyard of Tomioka's residence seemed remarkably tranquil. The day's noise and sweat had been carried away by the night breeze, leaving only the subtle fragrance of wisteria flowers and the steady sound of each other's breathing.
Bai Zheng knelt in the hallway, carefully polishing Giyu's Nichirin sword. The ripples of water flowing across the blade shimmered in the moonlight, a faint blue sheen. Giyu sat beside her, silently observing her movements, his gaze deep, as if laden with thoughts. This strange silence lasted for a long time, a stark contrast to the usual atmosphere of exhaustion and peace after training.
Bai keenly noticed his abnormality, put down the knife cloth in her hand, gently leaned against his side, looked up at his profile, which was somewhat cold and hard outlined by the moonlight, and asked softly, "Husband, you seem a little different today. Are you too tired from training? Or is there something on your mind?"
Yiyong's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. He lowered his eyes, avoiding Bai Guan's gaze, and his gaze fell on the empty darkness of the courtyard, as if he could penetrate time and see some heavy past. After a long while, he spoke in an extremely low voice with a barely perceptible hoarseness:
"Bai... a few days ago, the lord convened a meeting of the pillars for the training of the pillar instructors."
Bai listened quietly without interrupting.
"In the meeting... I..." He seemed to be at a loss for words and paused for a moment before continuing, "I said... I don't plan to participate in this training with the Pillar Instructor."
Bai's eyes widened slightly in surprise. She knew the importance of Zhu's guidance and training, and she also knew that Yiyong was not an irresponsible person. He must have made such a decision for a very profound reason.
"Why?" Her voice became softer, for fear of disturbing his fragile heart.
Giyu's fists clenched slightly, his knuckles turning pale. "Because... I don't think I'm worthy enough." He finally confided the thought that had been lingering deep within him, threatening to consume him. "I'm unworthy of being a Pillar and guiding these members who risk their lives to become stronger."
He raised his head and looked at Shiro. Those eyes, always as calm as the deep ocean, were now surging with waves of pain and self-loathing. "Buzukawa... was very angry at the time. He said I was arrogant, that I looked down on the other pillars and team members... He might be right. But what really made me change my mind... was when he mentioned you."
"Me?" Bai was even more confused.
"He said..." Yiyong's voice deepened, a stagnation of recollection. "'We have all witnessed the efforts and progress of your important stepson, the girl named Bai. Are you going to use such a ridiculous attitude to deny her efforts and all those who trust you and need your guidance?'"
Bai's heart trembled violently. She couldn't imagine that in such a solemn occasion with all the pillars gathered together, Mr. Wind Pillar would mention her name in order to "awaken" Senior Giyu.
"At that moment... I wavered." Yiyong's voice was filled with a hint of fear. "I can't... let you be humiliated by my ridiculous idea, and I can't... disappoint the little hope you might have had in me."
He finally turned his gaze completely to Bai, which was filled with struggle and an almost naked honesty, as if he wanted to reveal his most unbearable side to her: "Bai, do you know... why do I think I'm unworthy?"
Bai shook his head slightly, his heart tightening slightly as he anticipated the heavy past he was about to reveal.
Yiyong's gaze drifted away again, as if he had traveled through time and space, returning to the snowy mountain road, and to the tomb of Xuantu where he and Bai first met.
"When we first met... you were stealing offerings from Xuantu's tomb." His voice echoed from afar. "That Xuantu... he... was the one who should have truly become the Water Pillar."
He began to recount that dusty past, stained with blood and tears. About the final selection, about that young man in a fox mask, strong, cheerful, and shining like the sun—Sento. He recounted how Sento had saved his peers with his sheer strength, how he had almost single-handedly wiped out the demons of Fujikiyama, but ultimately, while protecting him—protecting Tomioka Giyu, who was weak and powerless, and could only watch helplessly—he exhausted himself and died at the hands of a once-insignificant demon.
"If it weren't for saving me...Xiantu wouldn't have died." Yiyong's voice was dry, and every word sounded like it was honed through sandpaper. "He possesses true strength and character. He is the true Water Pillar. And I... I'm just a defective product... who luckily survived. I was able to pass the selection not because of my own strength, but because Xiantu... used his life to pave the way for me."
He raised his hand, looking at his calloused palm, his eyes hollow. "The power held in these hands, the title 'Water Pillar'... all of this should have belonged to Xuantu. I stole his position, his glory, his life... What qualifications do I have to guide others as a victor?"
Bai's breath caught. She finally understood why Giyu-senpai always clung to an indelible loneliness and alienation; why he sometimes revealed a deep-seated inferiority complex; why he held such an obsessive, even clumsy, insistence on being his "companion" and "guardian." It all stemmed from the heavy burden of survivor's guilt. He blamed his friend's death on his own incompetence, carrying the deceased's legacy as he struggled forward, yet never allowed himself to savor the glory earned with his life.
Tears suddenly filled Bai's eyes. Not out of sympathy, but out of deep heartache. She reached out and tightly grasped Yiyong's clenched, cold hand, trying to pass on all her warmth and strength to him.
"No... Giyu-senpai." Her voice was choked with sobs, but she was remarkably firm. "You're wrong. Absolutely wrong."
She forced him to look at her, her dark eyes flashing with an undeniable light:
"Mr. Xuantu chose to protect you, not because you are 'weak' or 'unworthy'! It is precisely because he sees your value and the potential for your future that he would not hesitate to exchange his own life for yours! He believes that if you live, you can create greater value than he can live, and can protect more people who are as dear to you as he is!"
Her tone became increasingly intense, as if she wanted to completely pull him out of the quagmire of self-denial:
"You said you stole his position? No! You inherited his will! You became the Water Pillar, and with the swordsmanship he taught you, you protected countless people, including me! You slew countless demons, moving step by step towards your goal of ending Muzan! Isn't this the best reward for Mr. Santo's sacrifice? If you sink into despair and deny yourself, then you will truly be wasting his sacrifice!"
Yiyong stared at her in a daze, seeing her cheeks flushed with excitement, seeing the tears welling up in her eyes for him. Her words, like a heavy hammer, struck the frozen lake in his heart, creating a crack.
"And..." Bai's tone softened, filled with endless pity. "You know, in my eyes, Tomioka Giyuu is Tomioka Giyuu. Not a substitute for anyone, nor a lucky survivor. You were the one who helped a stranger in the snow who stole tribute and ate a 'suspicious' girl; you were the one who patiently taught me swordsmanship and gave me a place to stay; you were the one who trusted me and protected me with your life, giving me a name and a place to belong! Your strength, your gentleness, everything about you, I witnessed and felt with my own eyes! Could this be false?!"
At this moment, Yiyong spoke again, his voice even deeper than before, as if touching a deeper wound:
"And... my sister, Tsutako."
Shiro held his breath, knowing he was about to reveal a deeper pain.
"When I was very young... she was killed by a demon." Giyu's voice was eerily calm, but beneath that calmness was a sadness that had solidified for decades. "It happened right in front of me... I... couldn't do anything. Just like Santo back then... I could only watch... watch someone important to me being taken away..."
He finally spoke out his deepest fear, his blue eyes filled with vulnerability that threatened to overflow:
"Bai...you, and Santu, and my sister...you are all equally important to me. I can't...bear losing anyone important to me anymore. I absolutely cannot...lose you again."
At that moment, Bai understood everything. All his inferiority, alienation, and even his clumsy protection stemmed from the trauma of losing important people throughout his childhood and adolescence. He was afraid to get close because he was afraid of losing them again; he denied himself because he couldn't forgive himself for being unable to protect them back then.
Her heart felt like it was being tightly grasped by an invisible hand, causing her to ache uncontrollably. She offered no more words of comfort.
She loosened her grip on his hand and instead gently held his face with both hands, forcing him to lower his head. Then, without hesitation and firmly, she kissed him on the lips.
This kiss was different from the gentle and lingering ones she had given him before. It had an almost divine soothing power, carrying all her understanding, heartache, love, and promise. Through this kiss, she tried to dispel the years of ice and snow in his heart and warm his cold fear.
At first, Yiyong's body was stiff, as if he were still lost in the pain of the past. But gradually, under Bai's gentle and persistent kiss, his tense nerves gradually relaxed. He felt the softness and warmth of her lips, the clear presence of her, and the steady, strong heartbeat of her chest against theirs.
This wasn't an illusion, not a fragile dream. This was the real thing, his wife, the one he had vowed to protect with his life.
He began to respond to the kiss clumsily, his arms slowly rising, and finally, tightly, almost with all his strength, he embraced her in his arms, as if to rub her into his bones and blood, to confirm her existence and dispel the fear of loss that followed him like a shadow.
After a long moment, their lips parted. Bai's forehead rested against his, their noses touching, their breaths mingling. She looked into his blue eyes, which were finally no longer empty but reflected her own image, and whispered softly, word by word:
"Do you feel it, Giyu-senpai? I'm here, truly here. I won't leave easily, and I won't be taken away like them. I will always be by your side, fighting with you, and living with you. So, don't carry such a heavy past alone anymore, okay? Let me share your sins and your pain."
Under the moonlight, Yiyong gazed deeply at Bai, as if he wanted to carve her appearance into the depths of his soul. After a long moment, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the confusion and pain in his eyes, though not completely gone, were replaced by a deeper, more resolute light.
He tightened his arms again, buried his face in her silver hair that exuded a faint fragrance, and responded in a low voice that was almost a sigh:
"Um."
This single word carried a weight of a thousand pounds. It represented the relief of having lifted some of the burden, a promise for the future, and the fact that he had finally allowed himself to completely trust and rely on the moonlight in his arms, the light that had saved him from the abyss of loneliness.
The night wind blew through the courtyard, and the wisteria flowers swayed, as if sending silent blessings to this pair of lovers whose hearts were truly embraced.
The days at Tomioka's residence found a delicate balance between the tension before the decisive battle and the intimate tenderness of the two. Training remained as rigorous as ever, the sound of swords slicing through the air echoing daily in the courtyard. But beneath the sweat and exhaustion lay a tenderness that only they could understand, flowing through their eyes and fingertips.
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