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Tomioka Giyu gazed at the bouquet of bluebells trembling in the breeze with an expression as cold as the winter-wrapped wind. The flowers were tucked safely into a pot, decorated in a water pattern, protecting them from the snow, and Giyu leaned forward to once again adjust them; he had originally placed them to hide the name etched upon the cold stone, but it didn’t do the boy buried beneath him justice. It was a form of punishment, he guessed, to force himself to look at the single cursive word: ‘Sabito’ .It had been so long since he had last gotten to speak with the other boy, nearly seven years, and not one day had passed in all that time where no guilt thrummed through his veins. Sabito was the boy who should have survived that mountain, the boy that should have become a Demon Slayer– the boy that should have been turning twenty this year, and the boy that should have risen to the rank of Hashira; Sabito was certainly stubborn enough to do that. He was like a fireball, a meteoroid burning through everything around him and scorching any demon stupid enough to approach him. But it had warmed Giyu with friendship, in Sabito’s own ‘throw them to the wolves’ kind of approach.And yet… he had gotten too close, and had been burned because of it.That was the issue with fire: they’re always so big and grand, burning off of the things around them, making it hard to believe that one day it would burn out– but the truth was that as long as there was no one there to fuel the fire, it would one day burn out… wax would always melt, and oil would always evaporate, and kindling would dwindle through the cold nights. A fire was always one measly breath away from being extinguished, no matter how great it had once seemed.A new pain drew up in his heart as he thought back to that night just over a year ago, to that young boy and his little sister; the Kamados he had later discovered through the townspeople. Tanjiro, specifically… he to those people had been that fire, both by way of brightening their lives with his personality, and literally in selling them charcoal. And yet the kindling to his fire was his family, only to then have them be ripped away from him– there was but a slight bit left: his cursed kid sister. Giyu had decided to fan the flames of that dying blaze– to what end, he still didn’t know, but he had just had this feeling, and before long and before thought, he was acting upon it.Sitting at the grave of a boy he failed, he prayed for that Kamado boy; he prayed for Sabito’s spirit to guide him through that mountain, that he would protect Tanjiro as he had protected Giyu, and Aoi and Murata, and every other person that had survived his Final Selection. And most of all he prayed that he wasn’t wrong, that by accepting this boy into the ranks would bring the Demon Slayer Corps back from the edge it seemed to be balancing on .Finally standing up to leave, Giyu braced as the wind whipped around him, tossing his ponytail and haori tight to his body. Though the breeze seemed to carry something with it, something Giyu didn’t expect to hear in such a solemn place. He heard singing… gentle and light, soft and sweet, melodic and beautiful. It was something he had never heard before– then again, he never really came to the graveyard. Having said that, whoever it was and whyever he was there didn’t matter. His feet found themselves following the voice.The weather was also never something Giyu put much thought into; when it was cold, he’d wear a scarf, when it was hot, he wouldn’t; he’d travel in denser forested areas when it rained and when it was sunny. His relationship with the weather was absent of significant emotion–But the sun in this cloudless sky shining down on that scene stopped Giyu in his tracks; it haloed the familiar figure of the Flame Hashira perfectly. The wind lighting his hair with life, tussling it in the same way that flames would flicker in a light breeze. His haori, on the other hand, fell like a waterfall off his shoulders, splaying out on the ground behind him. It was like he had just walked out of a painting– and not only that, but the singing Giyu had heard was coming from the very same man who so effortlessly embodied the flame.Rengoku Kyojuro had an expression Giyu had never seen from him; his eyes were lidded, and whereas he was still wearing a smile, it was only gently tugging at his lips. It was then that Giyu realised the movements of his junior’s hand gracefully stroking another, near-identical head of hair. He had overheard Rengoku speaking of his younger brother, and it was clear to even the blind how much he loved that boy– but to see such love displayed in person had the usually stoic Giyu almost tearing up.Everyone who undertook the responsibility of being trained under a Water Hashira were told that since the dawn of breathing styles there had always been a Hashira of Water and a Hashira of Flame, but many misconstrued that as simple trivia. It wasn’t. That became ever the more clearer as he looked at Rengoku now; the Water Hashira paled in comparison to the prestigious bloodline of the Rengoku Household. Water Breathing was simple and easier to learn, and it was by far the most common form of breathing style, but there was never more than one or two people on earth at any one time that could effectively use Flame Breathing. And one of those people was right there in front of him, burning with the energy of the sun.Not that the current Flame Hashira used the prestige of his heritage to make his name: he’d already won over the hearts of the lower ranks as he had climbed them, being dubbed the ‘older brother of the Demon Slayer Corps’ long before he was even close to reaching Hashira rank. Then he had so effortlessly held his ground against Shinazugawa– which had reduced the overall fear of the Wind Hashira, even if his reputation was a bit more tarnished. And even at that fact, Rengoku had tried to convince others to the contrary…‘The Wind Hashira didn’t mean to hurt me, but to teach me what he had thought I failed to notice.’‘The Wind Hashira is simply a good person who bad things have happened too.’‘The Wind Hashira’s anger comes from a place of kindness.’Of course, nobody was willing to argue with the purity of Rengoku Kyojuro, even if they did gossip about how they didn’t agree with such an assessment.Giyu couldn’t help but think that if Sabito had been a ball of fire, then Rengoku Kyojuro was a full wall of it– one that stood tall and unyielding. Whether it was when he was warming everyone around him with his sunny disposition, or blazing through any demon who dared to make contact with him. Sabito had been rough and aggressive like the burst of new oxygen popping through wood, but Rengoku was the gentle licking of a flame on a wall– just as dangerous, but tender and graceful all the same.Nevertheless, no matter how tender and graceful it was, fire always set alight anyone who got too close. It was an inevitable fact. Giyu had already seen so many fires flicker out, and had been burned by each one; his sister, his best friend, countless comrades and civilians who he had been just too late to save. He couldn’t afford these emotions towards the junior Hashira– he was surprised anyone else did. Rengoku’s sun would one day set, and when that day came it would shroud the whole Corps in an inescapable darkness.A mournful sigh loosened his shoulders as Giyu turned his back on what had been such a beautiful show of life, knowing that it would one day be tainted by the consuming night…Sabito was interested in Rengoku Kyojuro– of course he was! How could anyone not?! Not only had the boy been a hot topic with his sensei, but the stunt he pulled during that fateful Hashira meeting a year ago was mind boggling. He never specifically sought out the Flame Hashira, opting to stay up at Mount Sagiri or in Giyu’s shadows, but he was certainly curious each time an encounter cropped up.With Urokodaki-san gaining a new student the year prior, Sabito knew that it would only be a couple of months before he’d be busy picking up wherever his sensei left off– he would give the green-clad thirteen-year-old a chance for self-improvement, he had only recently been tasked with splitting the boulder after all. Either way, he wanted to ensure he got to keep up with his dear friend as much as he could before that point.It was always nice to see Giyu visiting his grave, always with a bouquet of bluebells; for gratitude. He would never have changed his decision to face that demon on the mountain, but to know how thankful just one person was at his sacrifice reminded him that it wasn’t in vain. It made it all the more special to him that the person was his best friend.When the singing had first reached them, Sabito initially thought it had been the Sound Hashira, who was almost always there with his wives when Giyu was– and music seemed very on brand for the obscenely tall man. So when it turned out to be the half-deaf best friend of said Sound Hashira, Sabito found himself quite shocked.He still remembered the time when Giyu discovered that the Flame Hashira was hearing impaired: they had both coincidently been at the famed Butterfly Estate treating infections. Giyu’s had been a minor cluster of cuts along his ankles from harsh treks through the mountains, that had gotten infected from exposure to the swamp-like conditions created in lew of melting snow. Rengoku had been in a far more dire state; multiple explosions, and being shot six times. One of the shot wounds, just above his right hip, had gotten infected from the rising dirt and debris from the explosions, and for someone who typically ran hot, his fevers ran even hotter.By a stroke of luck, Giyu had also been at the mansion in one of the rare moments Rengoku had been lucid and they had managed to engage in a small conversation discussing their latest mission. When the junior had eventually passed out due to his fever once more, Giyu asked the Flower Hashira why Rengoku seemed to barely stay on topic in response to whatever he had said.Kocho-san had then explained not only how the then seventeen-year-old was half-deaf from a prior mission complication, but that the fever was hopefully only temporarily dimming what little hearing remained, commenting that the only way Rengoku managed to hold a concise conversation at all had been the set of predetermined physical interactions he had with Kaname– his crow that outright refused to leave his side, barely eating or resting out of worry for his master.That was probably the most remarkable thing Sabito discovered: that not only was Rengoku fluent in sign language, which was apparently how he had only partially lost his hearing and not his life on the mission, but that he had his own separate code with his crow to make up for the deficit– with the added boon of extra stealth! It was the perfect representation of the relationship between a Slayer and his Kasugai Crow. Together they were unshakable.However, no one was without loss, especially in this profession, and encountering each other in the graveyard wasn’t necessarily a shocking occurrence. But the fact that the Flame Hashira had brought along his younger brother was interesting: had their father passed? Or was it someone else both civilian and slayer were acquainted with? Sabito couldn’t help his curiosity, daring to glide past his friend to stand beyond the shoulder of the junior Hashira.The grave was beautiful, but minimalistic; it was lined with five candles of different sizes, the two tallest stood side-by-side, with the tallest of the two neatly placed between the family and given name of the deceased etched into the stonework. The remaining three were clustered in front of those two, the largest of the three in the middle, the middle sized one on its right and the smallest on its left. They looked brand new– but Sabito also noted that the second largest of all five wasn’t lit.He wondered why, before looking to the left of the grave where a picture of five people sat in a frame. The five people were arranged in the same way the candles were; a man, a woman, and what appeared to be their three sons. The owl-like eyes of the current Flame Hashira was obvious even at that age, probably no more than eleven or twelve, and by appearance and how his younger brother similarly clung to him made it clear that he was the smallest figure, around four years old. The middle-sized boy seemed to be the odd one out of the three– his mouth was covered by a scarf, and whereas he had black hair like the woman in the photo, his eyes were so wildly different with one blue and one amber coloured orb– he looked younger than Rengoku, but Sabito for some reason had a feeling like that was wrong…The man and woman in the back were clearly the mother and father of at least two of the boys, and by process of common sense, Sabito concluded that it was in fact the boys’ mother who had passed, illustrated by the unlit candle and reiterated by the engraved name: ‘Rengoku Ruka’.Sabito began to wonder where the woman was– and more so why her visage seemed so familiar to him. He would be able to see her if she were here, but maybe her connection was weak? And yet, even when Rengoku finished his song and lit the fifth candle, she made no appearance. It flagged as strange in his mind, and he looked back at the picture as though it had more answers for him–And that was when it hit him! He did know this woman– the Spirit of the Bridge! The woman that had remained on the bridge between worlds almost as if she was waiting for something, or… someone. But his realisation also came with a degree of frustration; if she was so stubborn as to not move on to an afterlife, why was she not with the people she was waiting for? Curiosity began to eat away at him, and the more he thought about it the more indignation he felt, until he could barely stand it.Seeing her in front of him on the bridge was different than the last and only time he had seen her; back then, he had felt bad for how mournful the woman seemed to be– now it was dampened as he wondered why she stayed here? Why didn’t she walk with her sons? He calmed himself enough to sit next to her without immediately blowing up, thinking about how best to approach the situation.He gave a deep sigh to garner her attention as he finally figured out what to say to try to appeal to her; “I don’t think any one of them would want you to waste away here.” He looked down at the two boys by the grave, holding the other two males that had been in the picture in his thoughts. “And it’s not fair to anyone for you to mourn them like this.” He didn’t look at her directly, just barely catching the way her head shot up. “They’re still alive, and as long as that remains true, you should be thankful.”That seemed to be a touchy straw for the woman, “how can I be thankful when my son is being abandoned?” Sabito was pushed into confused again on just which son she was talking about, but if the mis-matched eyed boy wasn’t her birth son, and with the lack of pressure of the youngest boy that seemed to be carefully tucked away only left the bright Flame Hashira– a man that seemed optimistic down to the very marrow of his bones. “No one bothers to look after him, or even offer him guidance.” The woman continued as though in attempt to answer his silent questions.But he still couldn’t quite get behind it– Rengoku Kyojuro was tactical and intelligent, why would he need that kind of thing…? “He’s a big boy, I’m sure he can look out for hi–”“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” The whisper was so vulnerable that Sabito finally forced himself to look at her– her face was tense with worry and pain for her son. “But he rarely does– he barely eats throughout his patrols, and so haphazardly wraps his wounds and only seems to worry about everyone else around him.”Sabito frowned. “You almost sound like you’re angry at him for being kind,” he began, continuing just as she motioned to argue, “but that’s his choice. It’s no one else’s responsibility to make sure he eats four square meals a day, or goes to bed and wakes up at appropriate times, or bathes on a regular basis. That’s on him . To torture yourself on it, and downright blame other people you don’t even know for it, is so off-target.”“And what would you know of it!” She snapped– and he got it, he wouldn’t like someone questioning him like this on Giyu, but the role of a best friend was wildly different to that of a mother’s, and Sabito knew all too well the necessity of letting go.“Because my person is just as odd! He closes himself off to the well wishes of others, and punishes himself for many things that are out of his control,” he began, looking down into the abyss to his friend. “But you know what? The only time he has smiled recently has been in the company of your son.” He watched out of the corner of his eyes as the anger seemed to seep from the woman’s shoulders. “People find comfort in your son, which in of itself is something you should be proud of. That doesn’t mean he is without loss or pain, but that perhaps maybe he doesn’t want other people, especially his family and friends, to feel what he feels. He closes himself off because he feels alone, but doesn’t want other people to do the same and potentially hurt themselves.”Sabito knew that his expression was unreadable behind a mask, but he met the woman’s eye directly through the mesh of the eye's spaces. “At the end of the day, he has an unbelievable and remarkable strength that no one else has, and it’s not that people don’t recognise it or the pressure it puts on him. They want to help him, but he needs to make the first step in letting them. Forcing him to let them in is just going to hurt everyone involved…”The woman seemed to accept that, and in unison they both looked down at their persons again. And then a thought entered his head, a flashback to when Giyu would talk about his older sister. He was once again speaking his mind.“And he always has your memory to give him comfort and strength, and he will always rely on it…”