Archive of Our Own ^beta

A thoughtful look lingered on Serena’s face as she sat behind her desk with fingers loosely folded, her gaze was unfocused as if it had drifted somewhere far beyond the walls of the office.

The room itself was quiet, a bit too quiet maybe.

It existed outside any singular world, nestled within the domain of their Goddess, untouched by time nor decay. Soft light filtered in from no visible source, illuminating shelves lined with records of countless timelines with each one catalogued with meticulous care.

Serena herself fit seamlessly into the stillness.

She appeared to be a young woman barely into her twenties, with long chestnut-brown hair drawn into a high half-ponytail and left the rest cascading down her back in gentle waves.

Her eyes was a pale violet that reflected neither impatience nor doubt. Fox ears that matched the color of her hair sat neatly from the crown of her head, betraying more emotion than her face ever did.

She was dressed in layered red and black garments fitted for movement rather than style, and she looked every bit like someone accustomed to carrying out tasks without question.

Her thoughts, however, were elsewhere.

She remembered the meeting she had just finished with her younger twin sister, Sienna, inside this very office not too long ago. The memory replayed itself unbidden and vivid despite Serena’s efforts to remain focused.

Sienna had been sprawled unceremoniously across one of the sofas with her legs kicked up and fox tail swaying lazily as she spoke with barely contained excitement.

“So!” Sienna had said brightly with a large grin. “The timeline stabilized, the King of Monsters awakened, Nidhorgg dealt with, and everyone survived. Well, mostly.”

Serena at that time had sighed, already bracing herself for what was to come.

“You’re skipping details.”

“Oh, fine.,” Sienna waved a hand dismissively, “Cale fought Nidhorgg in his Titanus Gojira upgraded form and the Hollow Earth cracked open. It was very dramatic, but eh, we won so.”

Serena would have heaved a sigh of relief of it wasn't for Sienna's eyes sparkling then, clear mischief bleeding through her next words.

“Oh! And I may or may not have poked Thalrion while he was asleep.”

That caused Serena to look up and ask her sharply.

“You what?”

Uncaring for her reaction, Sienna simply laughed.

“Just a little! He kinda sorta deserved it, anyways. And oh oh! the look on Cale’s face when I bungee-jumped out of nowhere? Priceless.”

That had been when Serena’s patience finally thinned.

“Sienna,” she had said calmly, though her voice had hardened, “you are meant to observe and intervene only when necessary. These missions are not games.”

Sienna, however, had only shrugged still, clearly and utterly unapologetic with her actions.

“Relax~, everything turned out fine, didn’t it?”

That had been the end of the memory.

Serena shook her head slowly with her fox ears flicking once as if to dispel the lingering image.

“Centuries pass,” she sighed out to the empty room, “and you never change.”

Yet, despite herself, there was no real irritation in her tone, only resigned fondness.

She exhaled softly once more before reaching forward and began to tidy the papers on her desk with practiced movements. Reports were stacked neatly, records aligned, and the last of distractions pushed to the back of her mind.

There was a lot work to be done.

After all, a new Cale Henituse, this one from an entirely different timeline, would be assigned to her soon.

And somehow, Serena already suspected that this one would be no less troublesome than the rest.

And sure enough, only a few hours later, Cale Henituse appeared in her office.

The guy for once had no dramatic arrival.

One moment the sofa was empty and Serena was alone, and the next, a man sat stiffly on the couch positioned before Serena’s desk with his posture tense, red hair slightly disheveled, and eyes unfocused as though he had been dropped into the scene without any warning.

Which he was, to be honest with you.

Serena had acknowledged his presence with nothing more than a soft hum.

She rose from behind her desk and moved to the sofa opposite his before settling down with unhurried grace. Her movements were quiet yet deliberate, as if she were stepping into a role she had already done countless times.

It seemed the mission had finally begun.

Cale had only become aware of his surroundings slowly, like a man waking from a disorienting sleep. He took in the unfamiliar office, stared at the shelves lined with countless records on walls that seemed to stretch farther than they should, and with light coming from no discernible source.

This wasn’t the familiar office of the God of Death.

That realization sharpened his focus instantly.

His gaze snapped forward, landing on the woman seated across from him. She looked young, and utterly unbothered by the way Cale was already assessing escape routes.

Cale did not let himself relax.

Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned back slightly, his every muscle coiled in tension.

“You’re not the God of Death,” he said flatly.

“No,” the woman replied without offense, “I’m not.”

She regarded him with the same serene expression as she had since earlier, as though he were an expected guest rather than a man who had no idea how, or why for that matter, he was here.

“My name is Serena,” she continued, not minding his reactions as if she was quite used to it by now. “I am a faithful servant of another Goddess.”

Cale felt his mouth twitched at that revelation.

Seriously? Another one? 

He scanned the room again, his eyes still have their sharpness yet he already felt tired without even listening to the other's words.

“Which Goddess?”

His words made Serena pause briefly.

“One who has taken a particular interest in you,” then she whispered in a barely audible voice, “I do suppose you might know her...”

Cale clicked his tongue again, irritation flaring despite himself.

Gods and goddesses, he had more than enough of them. 

“I don’t accept divine favors,” he finally said coolly. “Whatever this is, I’m not interested.”

Still, Serena did not react and instead, she folded her hands in her lap and spoke evenly.

“Even if it concerns your current state of existence?”

That made Cale's turn to pause.

“…What do you mean?” he asked, though dread had already begun to settle in his chest.

Serena met his gaze fully now.

“This is a proposal from my Goddess. But before you can decide, there is something you need to understand.”

Her voice did not waver as she continued to drop bombs.

“Cale Henituse, you are dead.”

“That’s ridiculous,” almost immediately, Cale scoffed.

Yet the denial rang hollow even to his own ears.

“If that were true,” he continued, his voice more stiff than it had earlier, “I wouldn’t be here.”

“Then tell me,” Serena replied, her voice remaining gentle despite the cruel reality of her words, “what is the last thing you remember?”

The question had cut deeper than any blade. Cale opened his mouth, but.... stopped.

His brow furrowed as ge searched his mind instinctively, reaching for Record, the ability that had never failed him, that had catalogued his life across lifetimes with perfect clarity.

Yet, there was nothing.

There was no final battle, just the constant buzz of something not there.

His eyes narrowed as the realization dawned. Record wasn’t responding properly. It wasn’t gone, but it was damaged, as if a page had been torn out and burned before he could read it.

That could only mean one thing.

He didn’t want to remember how he died.

Cale exhaled slowly through his nose and looked away with jaw tight from how hard he clenched.

And seeing this, Serena continued speaking with her voice still as steady as she had.

“The war between Good and Evil has ended. It concluded with your sacrifice... one that ensured victory.”

Cale did not respond to that, still the woman went on.

“My Goddess,” Serena slowly added, “could not accept that ending.”

She then leaned forward slightly, her eyes softening just a fraction.

“She intervened. She pulled your soul from purgatory before the God of Death could claim it.”

That finally drew Cale’s attention back to her.

“And the price?”

“She exhausted herself,” she answered. “Interfering with the natural order comes at a cost. My Goddess is now in slumber recovering her strength.”

Silence filled the office once more as the two occupants silently let those words drift.

Cale Henituse stared at the floor with fingers curling slightly against the couch. He had lived too long to believe in coincidences.

“…So,” he said at last, “you dragged me back.”

And unsurprisingly, Serena met his gaze without flinching.

“Yes.”

Serena allowed the silence to linger just long enough for Cale’s thoughts to spiral before she spoke again.

“You will be resurrected,” she said calmly, as calm as one would discus the weather. “in accordance with my Goddess’ wishes.”

That caused Cale’s head snapped up.

“Resurrected?”

“Yes,” Serena inclined her head slightly, “and in time, it is even possible for you to return to your original world.”

The words were everything he had ever wanted to hear.

And yet...

Cale narrowed his eyes once more. He had dealt with gods far too long to miss it. The hesitation wasn’t in her tone, but it was there.

“…There’s a ‘but,’” he continued for her flatly.

Serena’s lips curved in approval.

“Indeed,” she nodded. “according to the Laws of Causality, resurrection is a forbidden act. It violates the Cycle of Life.”

She then continued with the detachment, as if someone reciting an immutable truth.

“Ordinarily, such interference would be met with immediate correction.”

Cale leaned back against the couch, his arms crossing instinctively across his chest as he chewed on her words.

“Ordinarily.”

“My Goddess chose to defy it,” Serena continued nonchalantly, “for you.”

That alone should have unsettled him more than it did.

“The price for that defiance,” Serena said, “has already been partially paid.”

Cale’s jaw tightened once more

“By her.”

“Yes.”

Yet despite his heightened wariness, Serena still met his gaze evenly.

“However, the Laws do not permit imbalance to remain unaddressed. Even with my Goddess bearing the brunt of the cost, causality still demands recompense,” she then gestured faintly toward him. “That is where you come in, Cale Henituse.”

Immediately, Cale let out a quiet and humorless laugh.

Of course.

“You have saved countless lives,” Serena continued. “worlds, even. Those acts carry weight, what mortals would call good karma.”

Cale stiffened slightly at the term.

“For most beings, accumulating enough of it to offset a resurrection would be impossible.” she then paused. “But you are not most beings.”

Cale looked away, irritation now prickling beneath his skin. He hadn’t asked to be exceptional. He had just done all he could to survive.

“Thanks to your past deeds,” still Serena went on, “and my Goddess’ actions, you have nearly met the required threshold.”

“Nearly,” Cale echoed drily.

“You require one final mission,” Serena nodded. “and the salvation of one thousand additional souls.”

Her words landed with terrifying casualness, causing Cale to stare at her blankly.

“…One thousand,” he repeated slowly.

He desperately hope he heard wrong, but alas Serena nodded her head. Cale heaved a sigh as he dragged a hand down his face.

“You’re saying that like it’s nothing.”

“It is,” Serena replied serenely. “relatively speaking that is.”

“Where exactly does one find ‘just’ a thousand souls?”

Her fox ears twitched at that, the only sign of her own amusement.

“That,” she said, “will become clear soon enough.”

Cale fell silent once more. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like any of it. But he had never been given clean choices, only survivable ones.

And then finally, after a long moment, he exhaled and said, “Fine.”

His rather easy agreement caused Serena straighten immediately.

“You accept?”

“I accept,” Cale replied with his voice returning to it's usual flat. “on the condition that I know what kind of hell you’re dropping me into.”

“The world you will be sent to,” Serena said, then gave him a knowing smile. “is plagued by man-eating demons.”

Cale froze once more. Ahahahaha, surely he misheard?

“…I’m sorry?”

“They prey upon humans,” she mercilessly continued. “A virus upon the world. Your mission is to eradicate them, or well, at the very least, uncover a method to do so.”

Cale stared at her in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape from how casual she was being at it.

Seriously???

“Absolutely not,” he said immediately. “I’m weak.”

His vehement rejection made Serena tilted her head slightly in curiousity.

“I don’t fight, I don’t swing swords, or whatever you’re implying, that was more Choi Han's area” Cale frantically gestured. “How exactly am I supposed to deal with vicious demons?”

Like seriously??

Unexpectedly, for the first time since he had arrived in wherever this is, Serena’s expression shifted into a small genuine smile.

And that was deeply unsettling.

Sure enough, Cale's bad feeling came true the moment she opened her mouth.

“There is no need to worry,” she said rather lightly. “I have already prepared a suitable trainer for you.”

Cale already felt his soul attempt to leave his body again.

“…A trainer.”

“Yes.”

Cale sank back into the couch, dread now pooling in his stomach.

“I have a very very bad feeling about this.”

Seeing this sight somehow made Serena’s smile widened just a fraction.

“As you should,” she giggled out.

And for reasons Cale could not yet articulate, he instinctively knew without a doubt that whatever awaited him next would be far worse than the man eating demons.

Cale stared up at the vast expanse of stars as he lay sprawled unceremoniously on the ground with his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

The sky here was painfully clear, a bit too clear now that he think about it. Countless points of light stretched endlessly overhead, much too indifferent to his exhaustion, his sore muscles, and his growing resentment and spite. If he had the energy, he might have appreciated the view.

Unfortunately, he was far too tired to care.

It had been two months since he arrived in this strange place, and in those two months, he had moved far more times than he would have liked.

There had been no period of adjustment and even a gentle transition. And Serena, true to her word had wasted no time.

The moment their conversation in her office ended, she had delivered him directly to his so-called trainer.

Cale still remembered the sinking feeling in his stomach as he was led into an open arena with its grounds littered with practice dummies and scattered weapons.

The air there had smelled of wood, sweat, and something unidentifiable. And then, just as despair began to creep in at the sight alone, heavy footsteps approached the two.

Shortly after, a man of immense stature had emerged, his presence quiet but overwhelming. He had red hair tied back neatly and his expression calm to the point of severity, yet eyes sharp with an intensity that made Cale instinctively straighten despite himself.

“Yoriichi Tsugikuni,” the man had said simply.

That had been the entirety of his introduction.

He nodded once to Serena and then without further ceremony had seized Cale by the arm and dragged him into the arena.

Training began immediately.

During it all, Cale missed his villa.

He missed his soft bed, his sunlit room, and the peace finally had. The bed here was admittedly of excellent quality, better than most he’d slept in, but what use was comfort when his body was wrung dry every single day?

Morning to night, he would run, push-up, conditioning drills, and sword swings.

Again. Again. Again.

There was no room for complaint, because whenever thoughts of his family surfaced, Cale would bit down hard and pushed them away. Thinking about them only made the ache worse. He had left them behind, and no amount of exhaustion could numb that truth.

So here he was.

Two months into training, sustained by coffee and pure unfiltered spite.

Honestly, if it weren’t for his experience as Kim Rok Soo he would have given up long ago.

Yoriichi was relentless.

He criticized Cale’s “noodle physique” with bluntness and compensated for it by running him into the ground.

Endurance runs at dawn, strength training until his arms trembled, and then wooden sword...

Cale grimaced at the thought once more.

He had to do one thousand swings a day.

Every. Single. Fucking. Day.

His shoulders burned just thinking about it.

Oh, how he missed Choi Han. If Choi Han were here, surely he would have put a stop to this madness. Or at least shared the suffering. But instead, here Cale bore it alone.

Physically, the results were… embarassingly modest.

His frame hadn’t changed dramatically, but there was more muscle now with even the faint outline of abs beneath his shirt.

Should he be grateful for that?

Yoriichi, on the other hand, was clearly not impressed.

But what could he do?

Some people were born warriors, but his current body was not.

And then as if the devil has been summoned by his thoughts, Yoriichi’s shadow fell over him.

“Break is over,” the man announced calmly.

Cale let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a curse as he rolled onto his side. Every muscle protested as he forced himself upright, and stars briefly swimming in his vision before he steadied himself.

“Yes, yes.” he grumbled under his breath.

Yoriichi, too his credit, remained wholly unbothered.

Cale picked up the wooden sword once more, his fingers now tightening around the familiar grip even when exhaustion settled deep into his bones.

Because giving up had never been an option.

And then, in a blink of an eye, half a year had now passed before Yoriichi finally deemed Cale ready for the next step.

“You will learn Total Concentration,” he said one morning, his voice calm as if announcing something as trivial as the weather.

Cale, already drenched in sweat and barely upright, merely squinted at him.

“That sounds… manageable.”

Yet, Yoriichi merely looked at him.

“…You will maintain it at all times,” he added, as if an afterthought. “even while sleeping.”

Cale stared incredulously at him before laughing.

“That’s impossible.”

Please no.

Yet Yoriichi did not argue, he simply turned away signaling the end of the discussion.

Cale learned very quickly that impossibility had never stopped Yoriichi Tsugikuni before.

The training that followed was brutal in a new way. Total Concentration wasn’t about raw strength, it was about control. Every inhale was measured, and every exhale was deliberate.

At first, Cale could barely maintain it while standing still, let alone while running drills or swinging a sword.

And sleep?

Sleep became a battlefield.

Because every time Cale’s concentration slipped, every single fucking time, Yoriichi would appear.

Sometimes it was movement beside his bed. Other times, it was a sudden pressure of killing intent. Once, it was even the cold brush of a blade stopping a hair’s breadth from his throat.

What sane person does that??

Cale learned the hard way that Ancient Japan was hardcore.

Fucking hell.

And then finally, a year passed and somewhere along the way, Total Concentration stopped being something he did manually and became something he automatically does.

Finally, his breathing no longer faltered under stress even when jolted awake by Yoriichi’s sudden attacks, or when exhaustion pressed on him and blurred the edges of his vision.

It was not fun to live like that.

But it somehow worked.

“You are ready,” Yoriichi said suddenly one day, watching Cale recover from yet another ambush. “I will teach you Sun Breathing.”

His words made Cale froze.

Sun Breathing.

From what he had gathered, it was the origin, the technique that gave rise to all others.

“…Are you serious?” Cale asked faintly.

Yoriichi nodded his head. And honestly? Cale would have rejoiced if what followed was nothing short of agony.

Sun Breathing demanded more than precision, it demanded harmony between body, breath, and spirit.

And yet, as Cale practiced the forms, something felt… off.

The movements fit, but the power did not settle correctly.

Of course Yoriichi noticed.

“You are restraining yourself,” he remarked.

“I don’t know how not to,” Cale replied honestly.

That was when Yoriichi gave him new instructions.

“You will incorporate your Ancient Powers,” he hummed out, “they are part of you. Rejecting them weakens the technique.”

“That’s your homework?”, Cale grimaced.

“Yes.”

“And what does that even mean?”

“Embrace your innate traits.”

Then he walked away, as usual, leaving Cale alone with a task that made absolutely no sense to him.

Tsk, this is why geniuses are no good as teachers.

Still, Cale tried.

He listened to the wind brushing past his skin, to the earth beneath his feet, to the heat coiled quietly in his chest, and to the familiar presences in his soul. He stopped forcing himself into Sun Breathing’s mold and allowed his powers to flow naturally alongside it.

And now two years had passed since he had arrived here and endured hell.

One evening, under a sky streaked with fading sunlight, something finally clicked as Cale raised his blade and breathed and let power flow and intertwine with the elements that had always answered his call. 

Yoriichi watched in silence as the technique took shape and when Cale finished, the realization settled deep into his bones.

He had finally done it.

Two years after arriving in this strange realm, Cale Henituse had forged his own path.

His very own Breathing Style.

Nature Breathing, born of his Ancient Powers and the elements themselves.

The sound of steel clashing against steel rang sharp in the arena.

Cale and Yoriichi moved across the arena in a flurry of real katanas clashing with neither man holding back. There was no room for hesitation here.

Serena stood at the edge of the arena, the sole witness to the spar. Her posture was relaxed with hands folded neatly and her pale violet eyes tracking every movement with quiet attentiveness.

She did not interfere as she did not need to.

She watched that with every twist of Cale’s body, the sheer effort he had poured into these past years was evident. His movements were no longer cautious or reactive. They flowed unmistakably confident.

Cale Henituse’s body was not the same as Kim Rok Soo’s had been.

It had taken him far longer to temper it to his liking, to forge strength from something that had once been soft and untested. He did not possess the broad, bulging build of his previous life, nor did he aim for it. His frame remained relatively slim, honed for balance and endurance rather than brute force. With a katana in hand, that proved to be an advantage rather than a flaw.

His palms, once smooth and carefully tended by Ron, were now rough with calluses and hardened by countless hours of gripping a sword until his hands ached and bled. They told a story of repetition of swings and his refusal to give up.

His hair had grown long as well with the deep red strands reaching his waist. He had considered cutting it more than once, especially during the worst days of training, but had never followed through.

Ron would scold him for being careless and the children would look at him with quiet disappointment.

And so, he kept it.

It was impractical in a fight, yes. But it was also the last fragile tether to the family he intended to return to. He could not bring himself to sever it.

Meanwhile, the clash continued.

Blade met blade causing sparks to flash briefly as their swords scraped and slid. And yet neither Cale nor Yoriichi showed any sign of fatigue as their breathing remained steady with Total Concentration maintained flawlessly even under the strain.

And then there was an opening.

Cale moved without thinking. He stepped in close, twisted his body, and drove his heel forward. The kick landed cleanly, knocking Yoriichi’s sword from his grasp as it skidded across the ground. Then in the same fluid motion, Cale brought his blade up and stopped it just short of Yoriichi’s neck.

The arena immediately went silent.

Cale held his stance and grip steady.

He had finally won.

Yoriichi did not move, he simply looked at Cale with his expression as composed as ever.

But his eyes... for the first time, they were warm with pride for him.

Yoriichi inclined his head slightly, a gesture so rare it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else.

And seeing this scene Serena smiled.

Serena’s office was quiet as it always been.

Cale sat across from her at a low table with a porcelain teacup cradled loosely in his hands. Steam curled upward, fragrant and soothing, a stark contrast to the exhaustion that still lingered deep in his bones.

Yoriichi sat beside him with his back straight and movements minimal as he lifted his own cup.

And for a brief moment, the three of them simply drank their tea in comfortable silence.

It was only a while later that it was broken by Serena.

“You’ve completed your training,” Serena started at last, “Congratulations, Cale Henituse.”

Cale huffed softly into his cup.

“That’s one way to put it.”

Yoriichi said nothing, though the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. Serena’s lips also curved slightly before she continued.

“Now, as promised, I will brief you on the world you are about to enter.”

Cale straightened instinctively and leaned towards her. Finally, the information he's been seeking for is here.

“Your primary area of operation will be the country known as Japan,” Serena explained slowly. “It is plagued by demons, creatures that consume human flesh and spread like a disease.”

She continued to speak evenly and outlined the structure of the world like the Demon King, Kibutsuji Muzan, and the hierarchy of demons beneath him. The Demon Slayer Corps, an organization of swordsmen dedicated to exterminating them. The Breathing Techniques and the Hashiras.

Cale listened without interruption, expression neutral, though inwardly he felt his chest tighten.

“When you arrive,” Serena said, “you will join the Demon Slayer Corps as an official member.”

Cale hummed before nodding his head in agreement.

“Figures.”

It was inevitable for the sake of the mission.

But before Serena could continue explaining, Yoriichi chimed in quietly.

“There is something I would ask of you.”

That made Cale turn toward him, curiousity in his eyes. Afterall, whatever could the man want?

“My brother,” Yoriichi began slowly. “He strayed from the path became a demon.”

Cale once again froze at his words.

Seriously??

“He now stands as the second strongest under Muzan,” Yoriichi continued. “If the opportunity presents itself… I ask that you save him.”

What? The second strongest even?

These brothers are munchkins. What's with their genes?

The revelation seemed to make air in the room grow heavier.

Then finally, Cale met Yoriichi’s gaze and  searched his expression. Only to find that there was no desperation there, instead there was hope.

After a moment, Cale sighed out deeply.

“…I can’t promise miracles,” he said honestly. “but I’ll try my best.”

Yoriichi’s lips curved into a small genuine smile.

“That is enough,” he replied.

And truly it is.

He then rose smoothly to his feet and inclined his head to both of them.

“I will return to watching over my brother.”

With that, he turned and left the office without any regrets and hesitation, his presence fading as quietly as it had always been.

...watch over his brother?

Serena then shifted her attention back to Cale and continued her explanation before Cale could dwell further on the strangeness of it.

“In that world,” she said, “your identity will be that of a swordsman from a foreign land. A member of a distant clan sent to Japan to continue your training.”

Cale felt a shiver run down his spine, with goosebumps even appearing on his arms.

“…Training,” he echoed weakly but Serena mercilessly ignored that.

“You will be known as a foreign swordsman. Further details regarding your mission will be disclosed once you officially join the Corps.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re giving me?” Cale grumbled out, a frown now marring his face.

“For now, yes.”

He opened his mouth to argue once more when Serena inclined her head slightly as if to concede.

“However,” she added, “I will grant you one ability.”

“What kind?”

“You will be able to sense individuals who may aid you on your journey.”

“…That’s incredibly vague.”

Yet, Serena simply smiled serenely. And that smile has never bode well for him thus far.

“Yes.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“No.”

And then before he could protest any further, the floor beneath him shimmered causing Cale’s eyes to widen in alarm.

“Wait–”

A portal opened beneath his feet with gravity vanishing in an instant as he was pulled downward.

“Goddammit!” his voice echoed as he vanished downwards. “This always happens!”

And with that as his final words the portal snapped shut and silence returned to the office.

Serena lifted her teacup once more and took a sip before she snickering.

Ah, she supposes she can't really berate Sienna with her actions.

Above a dense forest, Cale plummeted through the sky, his body slicing through the wind as curses tore themselves from his lips like wildfire.

His eyes darted desperately, scanning for anything, anything, he could grab to stop his inevitable collision with the earth.

Finally, a gnarled branch jutted out at just the right angle. Then with a surge of adrenaline, he yanked himself toward it and locked his fingers around the rough wood. His heart hammered frantically in his chest, adrenaline and relief mingling as his descent finally slowed.

But, of course, would he truly be Cale Henituse if misfortune didn’t have a personal vendetta against him?

No sooner had he exhaled the branch snapped under his weight.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he grumbled out as he snapped his eyes shut to brace for the pain that was sure to come.

His mind raced with frustration, he had barely arrived, and already he was about to be battered like a ragdoll.

Yet then, just as the ground rushed up to meet him, a pair of strong solid arms wrapped around him, halting his fall in an instant.

The man holding him was imposing yet calm, with dark, almost obsidian hair that framed a face carved with stoic precision.

His eyes was a deep shade of blue and scanned the forest with sharp vigilance. A patterned haori fluttered slightly with the sudden movement yet his posture radiated quiet strength.

A peculiar tingling sensation ran along his spine and it was at that precise moment that Serena’s words about the ability to sense those who could help him echoed in Cale’s mind.

Huh, is this what she meant?

He hadn’t expected to put her gift to use so immediately, yet here it was already in front of him.

Tomioka Giyuu’s dark eyes quietly studied the man who had quite literally fallen into his arms.

The figure was lithe yet sturdy, the angles of his bones betraying a male frame, but there was something in his face that made Giyuu momentarily falter.

His high cheekbones caught the light, lips that seemed naturally poised, and eyes the color of warm chestnut that glimmered like sunlight.

His hair, a vivid cascade of red, framed his face with a careless elegance and tumbled down past his shoulders.

Even in the disheveled state of having just fallen from the sky, he was breathtaking. The very embodiment of beauty that could silence a room without effort.

Giyuu’s focus only returned when the red-haired man’s soft voice cut through his daze.

“Ah, nice catch.”

The words were casual but carried a unique charm that made the brief moment of danger feel oddly light.

Giyuu’s hands lowered him gently to the forest floor. To which the man gave him a grateful smile, then bowed his head slightly in thanks.

Giyuu nodded in acknowledgment before tilting his head slightly, curiosity now flickering in his otherwise calm expression.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice measured and betraying none of the curiosity in his mind. “And what were you doing up in the trees?”

His question caused Cale’s eyebrows to twitch.

“I’m fine,” he said smoothly, “I was… looking for a spot to sleep when the branch decided it no longer wanted to hold me.”

Giyuu inclined his head once with a hum, sensing that further questioning would only pry at walls the red-haired man wasn’t willing to lower.

Finally, Giyuu offered his own introduction, his voice as calm and composed as ever.

“I am Giyuu Tomioka.”

Cale’s eyes lifted to meet his gaze.

“Henituse Cale,” he finally replied.

So he was indeed a foreigner.

Giyuu’s mind noted it without surprise, though there was an inexplicable satisfaction in hearing the name spoken aloud.

For a moment,  Giyuu thought simply,

It was a pretty name.

A month had passed since Cale had landed, quite literally, into Giyuu’s life, and in that time, he had managed to convince the stoic demon slayer that he was a wandering swordsman sent to study under the renowned corps.

Giyuu, ever the quiet observer, had nodded only once when he saw the katana resting at Cale’s waist and the black uniform he wore, which bore a subtle resemblance to their own, minus the haori. 

Cale had learned quickly that the Annual Final Selection had already ended and wouldn’t resume for another six months.

That left him with little choice but to bide his time.

Yet somehow, the pair had found themselves traveling across Japan, Cale occasionally assisting Giyuu during his missions.

Giyuu had been clear that he didn’t need the help, and the demons he pursued were dangerous, but Cale had never been one to let a “golden opportunity” pass.

After two grueling years of training, this was his chance to live out a slacker swordsman dream, even if only for a short while.

... it's not like he will stop exercising daily. He's afraid Yoriichi will suddenly appear one day and smite him.

Anyways, there was one quirk, though, that made everything feel oddly… anchored.

The strange tingling sense Serena had gifted him, the one that alerted him to people who could help, had never reacted to anyone except Giyuu. 

And yes, they were on first-name basis now.

It had taken some convincing as Cale wasn't used to being called "Henituse-san, Henituse-san", but Cale had finally persuaded the silent swordsman to allow it.

In return, Giyuu insisted that Cale call him simply “Giyuu”.

It was a small compromise, but Cale would be an idiot to reject that.

Traveling with Giyuu was… peculiar in the best ways. The man was pleasant, if a little intense, and occasionally, yes, vicious.

Yet somehow, when two silent broods travels together, Cale became the talkative one. He had learned to tease him recently. Like for one instance.

“Hey, Giyuu,” Cale would say as he elbowed the other lightly during a walk through a crowded street, “you’re scowling again. I swear, you’re auditioning to be a grumpy statue in someone’s garden.”

And Giyuu would narrow his eyes at him silently for a moment before replying dryly.

“Focus, we have work.”

“And yet, here you are, letting me drag you into a crowded market for snacks,” Cale shot back with an infuriating smirk.

And then sometimes, they acted like an old married couple, whether they meant to or not. Observers frequently misjudged them, whispering rumors whenever the pair walked hand in hand through crowded streets.

It had become second nature of Giyuu to grab Cale’s hand to guide or protect him through a crowded street when pimps almost took him away, and Cale, almost unconsciously, would pat his head or stroke his cheek when the swordsman drifted into his thoughts.

Mornings followed their own rhythm.

Giyuu, ever patient, would nudge Cale awake and coax him from the comfort of the futon, while Cale would groan and mumble, rolling over lazily before relenting to the day.

Nights were quieter in the flickering lamplight of inns or temporary lodgings, but they would share silences that somehow spoke more volume.

It was a strange situation, unconventional by any standard, yet neither found it problematic.

For a while, life had been relatively peaceful since Cale had literally fallen into this world.

He had begun to enjoy the quiet predictable days spent traveling with Giyuu, the occasional missions, and the rare moments of genuine respite.

It was… pleasant, a welcome change of pace from the chaos that seemed to follow him in his previous life.

That peace, however, would prove fleeting as three months later, Cale found himself forced to retract his earlier optimism.

Giyuu had been assigned to investigate a village where reports of suspicious demon sightings had surfaced.

The work would demand long hours of walking and surveillance, and Giyuu, ever practical and considerate, suggested Cale remain behind at their lodging to rest.

Cale, however, was not one to be cooped up for long as the persistent tug of his ancient powers proved insistent.

And so by mid-morning, he slipped out of the small inn and began wandering toward the lively market that bustled with the merchants, townsfolk, and the scent of roasted foods and fresh timber.

It was there that he first noticed him.

A bright-eyed boy, energetically advertising his wares, Kamado Tanjiro, as he would soon learn, had set up a small stall for the coals his family produced in the nearby mountains.

There was a sincerity in the boy’s movements, the way he spoke and gestured, that drew Cale’s attention immediately.

And then his spidey senses activated causing Cale to hum thoughtfully with his brow slightly furrowed.

The boy seemed untrained, inexperienced, almost ordinary… yet why did his senses react so strongly?

Intrigued, he stepped forward and asked a casual question about the coals.

Tanjiro’s face lit up in response as he answered every question with a bright energy that made the market feel warmer somehow, and when Cale bought a small bag of coal, the boy thanked him profusely, bowing deeply as if the purchase had made his day.

Cale would have lingered and probed further, asking questions about his life, his family, just to satisfy the questions in his mind.

But, as fate would have it, Giyuu’s sharp voice soon cut through the noise of the marketplace.

“Cale!” he called, his exasperation and relief mingling in a single sigh as he finally found him.

Cale had to restrain a grin as Giyuu’s eyes narrowed, half-frustrated and half-something else he couldn’t quite place as he held the raven-haired man's hand and went back to their lodging after bidding the boy farewell.

And then, from that day onward, as Tanjiro descend from the mountains twice a week to sell his coals, Cale would invariably be there.

Their conversations became a more lighthearted exchanges over mundane wares, though Cale found himself quietly savoring the boy’s genuine optimism.

Giyuu, of course, noticed.

His jaw would subtly tighten when Cale lingered too long at the stall, before asking in a slightly sharper tone, “Why do you seem so interested in him?”

But Cale, unfazed, would simply shrugged with an amused smile curling at his lips.

“Tanjiro? He feels like a protagonist,” he replied, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

Heh, he can finally to do that to someone else.

Giyuu had blinked at him and fell silent for a moment, confusion flickering in his deep blue eyes.

He didn’t understand quite and Cale himself didn’t elaborate.

Yet in the pit of his stomach, a small knot of unease formed, though neither of them realized that the thing they hadn’t named yet was jealousy.

Still, life moved forward.

And then, a month into knowing Kamado Tanjiro, tragedy struck the Kamado family.

He and Giyuu was scouring the mountains as they finally had a lead on the demon when they smelled the strong scent of blood.

They saw the remains of a lost household lost, a family wiped out by demons leaving only one survivor. And yet, the sister who remained had been claimed by the darkness, transformed into a demon herself.

Cale felt the familiar tingling surge through him, the same subtle signal that had always reacted to Tanjiro.

Now he understood.

And later, as Giyuu listened to Tanjiro’s heartfelt pleas, the boy’s voice raw with grief and fear, he finally allowed himself to be convinced.

Giyuu’s master would handle the boy’s training, and the path ahead would be harsh but necessary.

Cale watched from nearby as Tanjiro hesitated, caught between duty and desperation.

“Don’t worry about your family,” Cale said softly as he placed a reassuring hand on Tanjiro’s trembling shoulder.

“You can’t save them, not now. But you can save your sister. So go and hurry. The night won’t wait, and she might still be in danger.”

Tanjiro’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as his hands tightened on his bag of supplies.

“I… I’ll do it,” he finally nodded, his voice cracking as he continued. “Thank you… thank you so much.”

“Just go,” Giyuu added at the side, his tone clipped but carrying the faintest hint of encouragement.

And left with no choice, Tanjiro bowed deeply, gratitude spilling from him in hurried words and promises.

With one last glance at the two of them, he disappeared down the mountain path, determination and fear warring in his every step.

Once Tanjiro had gone, Cale turned toward the Kamado house, a heavy weight settling in his chest.

He had promised to bury the family, yet nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him upon entering.

The rooms, once filled with warmth and laughter, were now empty and cold, bearing the scars of carnage.

The air smelled faintly of smoke and sorrow, a bitter reminder of the cruelty that lingered in the world.

Cale knelt before the simple graves he had helped dig with his hands folded on his lap, his heart heavy but this incident just hardened his resolve.

“May your souls find peace,” he whispered, “I will not let your deaths be in vain. I swear it.”

The scene etched itself into Cale’s memory, seared into his Record as the first true testament to the cruelty of the demons he had vowed to fight.

That day, kneeling in front of what was lost, he understood once more the weight of his mission.

For the souls of the innocent, he would continue. For Tanjiro, and for every life stolen, he would see it through.

It was a moment of solemnity, the moment he truly grasped the cost of mercy and the necessity of cruel justice.

And in that silence, beneath the moonlit sky, a fire ignited within him.

A few weeks later, Cale stood at the edge of the mountain as dawn finally crept over the horizon.

Pale light spilled across the clearing, washing over bloodstained soil, shattered blades, and the remnants of a nights that had demanded far too much from those who survived it.

The air still smelled faintly of iron and damp earth, a quiet reminder of how close death had come.

The Final Selection was finally over.

Against relentless demons and gnawing exhaustion, Cale had endured. He rolled his shoulders slowly, feeling his muscles protesting beneath hastily wrapped bandages, and let out a breath he felt like he had been holding for days.

“You passed,” Giyuu said beside him.

His voice was it's usual calm as if the trial hadn’t been a brutal sieve designed to kill most of its participants.

The morning light caught on his haori, the steady presence of him grounding in a way Cale had come to rely on more than he cared to admit.

Cale huffed at him, tension finally easing from his frame.

“Figures,” he replied dryly. “It’d be embarrassing if I didn’t, after all that trouble.”

Giyuu’s gaze the  shifted and lingered briefly on the blood-darkened edges of the bandages peeking from beneath Cale’s clothes. His brows knit almost imperceptibly.

“You’re injured.”

“I’ve had worse,” Cale waved it off with a lazy flick of his hand. “Besides, you’d nag me if I said I was fine.”

“That’s because you never are,” Giyuu replied without hesitation.

Cale stared at him for half a second before breaking into amused laughter.

“Wow, that's harsh. I can’t believe you’d say that to a newly certified demon slayer.”

Giyuu didn’t respond, but he stepped closer and pressed a water gourd into Cale’s hand, his fingers brushing briefly against his own before retreating. 

They descended the mountain together with Giyuu matching Cale’s pace without comment and subtly positioning himself close enough to catch him if his legs gave out.

And then, from that day forward, Cale Henituse was officially a demon slayer. 

Strangely enough, or perhaps inevitably, he and Giyuu continued to take missions together.

“You don’t need to keep pairing with me,” Cale remarked one evening as he lay sprawled across the engawa of a quiet inn while Giyuu sharpened his blade nearby. 

“You know I can handle myself now, right?”

Still, Giyuu didn’t look up as he answered.

“I know.”

“…Then why?”

The scraping paused and for a moment, only the chirring of insects filled the silence.

“You’re efficient,” Giyuu finally said before resuming his task. “and you don’t slow me down.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Cale snorted at him.

“Hm.”

And then, when Cale finally received his nichirin blade, it was exactly as strange as he was.

Instead of settling into a single hue, the metal shimmered with every color at once, a shifting kaleidoscope that caught and fractured light with each movement.

The swordsmith had stared at it in stunned silence, and began muttering under his breath rapidly, before chasing after Cale to ask him to be his muse.

That was not a fun time, who knew blacksmiths here are that tenacious?

From there, time blurred.

Mission after mission melted together, with villages rescued, demons cut down, and long nights spent traveling dirt roads and forest paths. Cale grew accustomed to Giyuu’s quiet presence, the way food would appear beside him when he forgot to eat, and especially the way Giyuu’s eyes always seemed to find him first in the aftermath of a fight.

And then somewhere along the way, Giyuu’s care stopped feeling unusual.

It simply became… their normal.

And with that, a year passed almost without Cale noticing.

One day, he was summoned to HQ, and together with Giyuu, he stood before Master Ubayashiki and the leaders of the corps, listening with muted disbelief as words like exceptional merit, unprecedented record, and Hashira were spoken in his direction. It all felt unreal as the air was heavy with obvious implications of why he was called over.

“…You’re promoting him?” someone, a silver haired dude (or  was it white?) asked incredulously.

“He’s earned it,” Master Ubayashiki replied without hesitation.

At that, Cale glanced sideways and narrowed his eyes slightly at Giyuu, who met his gaze calmly and looks utterly unsurprised.

“You knew,” Cale grumbles  under his breath.

Giyuu simply nodded once, without any intention to hide behind pretense.

“It was something that was bound to happen.”

“…I hate it when you’re right.”

And when it was over, Cale let out a long weary sigh and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“Well,” he said in frustration, “there goes my slacker dream.”

Giyuu studied him for a moment before speaking softly.

“You can still rest.”

His words caught Cale off guard, especially when he sensed the sincerity in it.

“Good,” he replied with a small smirk. “because I’m counting on you to make sure I do.”

And just like that, one year after falling from the sky into an unfamiliar world, Cale Henituse found himself standing at the top as a Hashira.

When Master Ubayashiki granted Cale a mansion of his own, the honor was meant to signify his rank, his achievements, and his place among the Hashira. Cale thought about the empty rooms and wide corridors that was already most probably gathering dust in his mind before promptly bowing.

“With all due respect,” he started carefully yet firmly, “living alone sounds like a nightmare. I don’t want to clean all that by myself.”

The room went immediately silent, with the Hashiras alternating gazes between him and Giyuu.

Whatever that meant.

It’s not like two friends can’t live together, no?

Ancient Japan can be conservative at times, or hm, maybe because he’s a modern person.

Still, his flying thoughts came back when Ubayashiki laughed softly in understanding.

“Very well,” he said. “You may stay where you feel most at ease.”

After that, no one was surprised when Cale returned to the Water Mansion that same evening.

“Are you sure?” Giyuu asked later that night as he set two cups of tea down on the engawa. The cicadas hummed softly in the dark. “You don’t have to stay.”

Cale accepted the cup with a blissful sigh, his shoulders loosening as the steam warmed his face.

“Why would I leave? You’re quiet, you cook decently, and you don’t complain when I steal your blankets.”

“…You do that?” Giyuu asked, mildly incredulous and amused.

“Every night.”

There was silence between them. Cale must have felt a bit awkward as he scratched the back of his head and sheepishly retracted his words.

“…I’ll get another blanket.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind,” Giyuu said with a smile.

Well, it’s not like you can refuse a smiling face, no?

Seasons changed almost unnoticed, marked only by the way the air grew heavier or colder on missions. Yet through it all, one constant remained. Giyuu was there, so consistently at Cale’s side that it eventually stopped being remarked upon with surprise and instead became fodder for gossip that the Hashiras takes a delight on every bi-annual meeting.

“Careful,” Tengen warned one afternoon with a grin far too sharp to be innocent as he clapped Giyuu on the shoulder with unnecessary force. “At this rate, everyone’s going to start calling you Cale’s wife.”

Sanemi barked out a loud and ugly laugh at that.

“Start? We already do.”

Cale, on the other hand, nearly inhaled his tea the wrong way and coughed violently as he slammed the cup down.

“Hey! I didn’t agree to this!”

Giyuu, however, merely looked at them once before patting Cale on the back calmly.

What he said next was made them not so calm though.

“Is that a problem?”

The laughter died instantly at his words, as every Hashira present stared at him with widened eyes. Although Shinobu and Mitsuri were smiling ear to ear as they watched the spectacle they were making.

“No,” Mitsuri said quickly, her smile a little too bright as she waved her hands frantically. “not at all.”

It was Cale’s turn this time to slowly turn to stare at Giyuu, disbelief written plainly across his face.

“You could at least pretend to be offended.”

“I don’t mind,” Giyuu insisted, his tone still even as though being labeled Cale’s spouse was no more noteworthy than discussing the weather.

That, Cale would later realize, should have been his first warning sign.

Then later, somewhere along the way, Cale’s earlier deduction proved devastatingly accurate. Kamado Tanjiro was, without question, a protagonist.  Because wherever the boy went, catastrophe followed close behind.

The truth of it struck hard when Tanjiro was dragged unconscious before the Hashiras. Cale took one look at him and felt something in his chest snap cleanly in two.

“Are you serious?” Cale growled under his breath as he saw Sanemi lunged forward with his blade flashing.

“If he’s a demon sympathizer, he dies..!”

Cale stepped forward without thinking, his hand twitching at his side towards his own blade. Giyuu moved at the exact same moment and positioned himself just enough to block Sanemi’s path.

“Touch him and his sister,” Cale said calmly, yet his voice was frighteningly low, “and I will forget my vows.”

That caused Sanemi to bristle with his eyes wild and manic.

“You threatening me?”

“I’m promising you,” Cale emphasized, “you are not the Master, Sanemi. Remember that.”

The two stared at each other before Sanemi huffed and stomped off to the side. With that, they decided to wait for the Master for his decision.

Fortunately, the trial ended without any bloodshed.

Unfortunately, then came the train mission.

From the moment Cale set foot onto the platform, he had a bad feeling about it.

The iron beast loomed ahead of them, steam hissing and billowing into the night air like a mad bull.

Beside him, Rengoku Kyojuro boarded with unrestrained enthusiasm with his booming laughter cutting through the murmur of passengers.

“Ah! I feel an evil presence!” Rengoku declared cheerfully, yet his eyes sharp despite his smile.

Cale stopped mid-step and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Please don’t,” he said, already exhausted just at the thought of it. “I just want a peaceful ride, just one. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Rengoku laughed even harder before placing a bento in his hands.

“Excellent spirit! But vigilance is the duty of a demon slayer!”

Cale did not like the way that sounded. Then the Kamaboko Squad arrived, adding to his mounting headache with their noise. It was the first mission without Giyuu by his side, so he was unconsciously at the edge.

Then as if to say he was right, everyone fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself back at Roan, back to his family.

…and yet, his Record tells him that this was not reality.

So, Cale stares at their faces one by one before running to his room where he will be alone and slitting his own throat.

He opened his eyes again with a gasp before surveying his surroundings. Indeed, there was a child bound with a rope with him. He gazed at the wide and frightened eyes of the boy and sighing out, he caught the dagger aimed at him before swiftly knocking out the kid on his seat.

“Seriously… who the fuck uses kids…”

The train lurched forward soon after with the wheels screaming against the rails.

“…Seriously?” Cale grumbled out as he steadied his stance.

And then later, just after defeating a Lower Moon, a fucking Upper Moon appeared just as the train crashed in the dead of night.

The battle that followed was a nightmare as Cale fought with everything he had. He could hear Rengoku’s unwavering loud voice clashing against the suffocating darkness.

By the time dawn finally broke, the train lay broken, and the threat had run away to the safety of the forest.

Yet, victory did not feel triumphant.

When Cale regained full awareness, he was lying flat on his back in the Butterfly Mansion with the familiar scent of antiseptic and wisteria filling his lungs. Bandages wrapped his torso and his limbs felt heavy and aching with every breath reminding him that he had pushed himself far past his limits.

He stared up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes, as if the plain wooden boards had personally wronged him.

“I am never,” he finally voice out, his voice hoarse from the unuse, “getting on a train again.”

It was then that a familiar presence sat beside him and Cale didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“You fought well,” Giyuu said praised him calmly.

Cale turned his head just enough to shoot him a tired look.

“That’s not comforting.”

Giyuu was silent for a moment. Then, he shifted closer and held his hand, staying right there as Cale closed his eyes and let the man comb through his unwashed hair.

Yet peace, apparently, was still a luxury he wasn’t allowed to have.

Because less than a month later, Tengen Uzui attempted to kidnap him.

Literally.

Cale had been enjoying a rare moment of peace when a shadow fell over him and the world abruptly tilted sideways.

“I need you!” a booming and far-too-energetic voice announced as Cale was hoisted off the ground with alarming ease. “For a flashy mission!”

“What?!” Cale yelped as he found himself slung over a broad shoulder, his vision bouncing wildly with each step. “I did not consent to this! Put me down–!”

“You’re perfect!” Uzui Tengen declared loudly and utterly ignoring him as he strode forward with theatrical flair. “Absolutely perfect!”

“This is a kidnapping!” Cale shouted as he pounded weakly against Uzui’s back. “I have rights!”

“You’re a Hashira, you’ll survive,” Uzui laughed out loud.

Cale would learn a short while later on why Uzui had been so insistent.

When the explanation finally came and with it, the neatly folded outfit laid out before him, Cale stared at the fabric in stunned silence. It was silk in bright colors and far too many decorative details.

Then slowly, he looked up at the grinning man and deadpanned.

“Absolutely not,” he said flatly. “I will not dress as a courtesan.”

Uzui sighed dramatically, yet looked unbothered as he rested his chin in his hand.

“Such a shame. You’d be dazzling, truly unforgettable.”

“I am a swordsman,” Cale replied, his scowl deepening as the brainless conversation continued. “not a honey trap.”

Uzui opened his mouth again to argue–

Only to freeze with cold sweat dripping down his forehead.

And there, across the room, Giyuu had lifted his gaze to stare at the hulking man. There was no raised voice and no overt threat yet the temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

“…You know what?” Uzui coughed as he slowly backed off with raised hands. “Never mind. We’ll find another plan.”

Cale exhaled deeply as the tension draining from his shoulders, as if he’d just avoided a catastrophic fate.

He did not want to add this to his black history.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Giyuu smiled at him.

And then, should he say he was surprised? Because as expected wherever Kamado Tanjiro went, something big followed close behind.

The Entertainment District became a battlefield and vibrant streets reduced to rubble and ash as the laughter was replaced by smoke and screams. By the time the fighting ended, entire blocks lay in ruins and the cost of victory carved deeply into the city.

Uzui survived, though he lost an arm in the process. Watching him grin through clenched teeth as the medics worked stirred an uncomfortable sense of familiarity in Cale’s chest.

“…Mary could probably fix that,” Cale muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

Giyuu, who was standing beside him, tilted his head slightly at the unfamiliar name.

“Who?”

Cale shook his head to say it was nothing, before turning away and walking off.

“It’s a long story.”

He left it at that, though his eyes still linger on the wreckage and quietly adding another entry to the growing list of reasons he trusted his instincts.

By the time everything was finally settled, Cale exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. Every muscle ached, his shoulders screamed for relief, and even the simple act of breathing felt like work.

And for once, he thought, maybe he could finally rest.

That hope was quickly boosted by Mitsuri’s enthusiastic cheer as she appeared before him with her hands clasped tightly and eyes sparkling with pure energy that made Cale’s tired gaze widen in both awe and mild terror.

“Hot springs!” she declared loudly, practically vibrating in her excitement. “You deserve a break! Come on! Come on! Come with me!”

Oh dear, she didn’t need to tell him twice.

“Yes,” Cale agreed immediately, his voice a mixture of relief and surrender. “I am coming. I am resting. I am not fighting anything.”

He then stretched one arm lazily, already imagining the warm water soothing his aching muscles.

The world, of course, had other plans.

“…Why,” he asked slowly as he felt the familiar cursed presence that crawled along the edges of his awareness, his voice was deliberately calm and soft, “are there demons here too?”

Giyuu, bathing with him inside the spring, silently reached for their blades thrown together at the side.

Cale pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a longnweary sigh, before rubbing his temples as though it might erase the sudden surge of danger from his body.

“We should’ve just stayed in bed Giyuu,” he whined, his voice dripping with reluctant resignation.

Behind him, Mitsuri squeaked loudly, but Cale didn’t have the energy to look at her for now. The warmth of the hot springs was already taunting him, a promise of comfort he barely enjoyed.

And just like that, what should have been a peaceful and restorative day off turned into another battlefield.

Later that night, once the demon slayers Giyuu had been training finally retreated to their rooms, the estate grew quiet in a way that felt earned.

The hum of voices faded, replaced by the soft chorus of cicadas and the distant rustle of wind through the trees.

It was only then that the two of them allowed themselves to slow down.

They sat side by side on the engawa with a low table between them, steam curling lazily from their cups of tea.

The sky stretched endlessly above with stars scattered like fragments of glass, Cale stared up at them with unfocused eyes. And every so often, a tired sigh would slip past his lips, the sound barely audible but heavy all the same.

Of course, Giyuu noticed. He always did, he had that uncanny ability.

Without a word, he shifted closer and brushed his fingers against the back of Cale’s hand, rubbing small familiar circles into his skin.

It was their quiet signal, an unspoken question when words became too much to speak.

–Are you alright?

Cale glanced at their joined hands, then gave a small shrug. Instead of answering, he leaned sideways and bonelessly rested his head on Giyuu’s shoulder.

“I’m so tired…” he grumbled out, the words stretched into a soft whine.

Giyuu’s expression softened immediately. He set his cup aside and lifted a hand to Cale’s back and rubbed slow and steady patterns that eased the tension from his shoulders.

“You pushed yourself again,” he said quietly.

“They’re seriously overworking me,” Cale complained, his eyes slipping shut as he let out a blissful sigh.

“I swear, if I hear ‘Hashira emergency’ one more time, I might actually disappear,” he paused before adding in a softer voice, “I miss those days when it was just the two of us.”

Giyuu let out a low chuckle at that, the sound warm and fond as he hummed in agreement.

“I miss them too,”

He then shifted slightly and wrapped an arm securely around Cale’s waist and tugging him closer so he could sit more comfortably against him.

“But… I’m glad you’re here.”

Cale smiled faintly at his words, nuzzling closer without thinking.

“You say that like you’d be lost without me.”

“…I would be,” Giyuu replied, so simply that it stole the breath from Cale’s lungs.

For a while, they sat in silence with Giyuu’s thumb tracing idle circles at Cale’s waist. Cale reached up absently, his fingers brushing Giyuu’s jaw before lingering there and letting his thumb stroke along his cheek in a slow affectionate motion.

“You’re staring,” Cale whispered without opening his eyes.

“I know,” Giyuu whispered back, earning him a quiet laugh.

“You’re terrible at hiding things.”

Giyuu then leaned down just slightly and pressed his forehead against Cale’s temple.

“You don’t make me want to hide them.”

Cale went still for a heartbeat before relaxing completely into him.

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

“If I am,” Giyuu replied softly as he tightened his hold just a little, “then I’ll stay with you until the end.”

“...you're curious.”

“I won't deny that.”

“Why don't you ask then?”

This time, it was Giyuu's turn to smile at him. It was a beautiful smile, one without pretense nor doubt. And when he spoke again, his voice was oh so gentle.

“Because I'm willing to wait for you.”

Cale could only bury his face in the other's chest, trying desperately to ignore the rapid beat of his own heart. Yet, he also noticed that the other's was also frantically beating, as if in rivalry with his own.

At that, Cale could only let out a faint smile despite his red face.

“Dummy.”

The final confrontation, the one that would decide humanity’s fate, had finally arrived.

Most of the Hashira lay bedridden after the brutal battle within the Infinity Castle, their bodies pushed past every limit imaginable. It was a small mercy that the Biwa Demon had been defeated before she could claim lives outright, but the victory tasted bitter nonetheless.

He was able to fulfill his promise with Yoriichi and set his brother to the afterlife with him.

And then there was the cost no one could truly prepare for.

Master Ubayashiki and his family.

Their sacrifice had shaken the entire corps to its core, a deliberate act meant to stop Muzan at any cost.

Cale felt the weight of it settle deep in his chest heavily.

Too many lives had already been lost on this path and too much blood had soaked into the earth.

This could not fail.

For his sake, for the corps’, for the countless souls who had already been laid to rest, and above all, for Giyuu who had to resort to using the Demon Slayer Mark.

The night before the battle, tension hung thick between the two of them. They stood alone, yet Giyuu’s jaw was tight and hands clenched tightly at his sides as Cale calmly outlined his plan.

“No,” Giyuu said immediately with his voice sharp in a way it rarely was. “absolutely not.”

Cale didn’t look surprised at his reaction.

“It’s the most efficient option,” he insisted, “Muzan’s attention is already on me. If I draw him away–”

“You’ll die,” Giyuu cut in desperately, his voice breaking at the end, “you’ll make yourself bait.”

Cale finally turned to face him.

“Someone has to.”

Giyuu stepped forward and desperately grabbed Cale’s wrist before he could take another step back.

“It doesn’t have to be you,” he said, his eyes burning into him. “We can find another way. We will find another way. Please, Cale–”

“There isn’t time,” Cale answered softly, “you know that.”

Giyuu’s grip on his wrist tightened as the trembling worsened.

“Then let me go instead.”

Cale immediately froze at his words.

“Giyuu–”, he tried to dissuade him.

“I don’t care,” Giyuu cut him off, his voice rising despite himself. “I don’t care about the most efficient strategy or odds or something. I care about you.”

His breath then hitched, and he swallowed hard before forcing the next words out.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want to lose you. Because I–”

His voice cracked completely.

“Because I love you.”

Cale stared at him stunned, his mind going blank in a way it hadn’t in years.

“You… what?”

Giyuu didn’t stop, no, he couldn’t. His hand slid down to lace their fingers together, clutching tightly as if letting go would make Cale disappear.

“I love you,” he repeated himself, more desperate now. “Please, stay with me. Don’t do this. I don’t want to wake up in a world where you’re gone.”

Cale’s felt his chest ache sharply.

Then slowly, carefully, he reached up and cupped Giyuu’s face, his thumbs brushing away the tears Giyuu hadn’t realized were falling.

“Hey,” he whispered gently. “breathe.”

Giyuu shook his head frantically.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered back. “I won’t survive it.”

“You will,” Cale said firmly as he rested his forehead against Giyuu’s, “and I won’t let you. I’m not planning to die.”

Giyuu laughed weakly through his tears.

“You’re terrible at reassuring people.”

“I know, but listen to me,” he smiled faintly as he squeezed Giyuu’s hands. “I promise, we’ll both live. We’ll survive this, and when it’s over, we’ll grow old together somewhere. Maybe even farm a little? You'll grow so sick of seeing me so much.”

“Never,” Giyuu breathed out before closing his eyes and pressing closer, “you’d better keep that promise.”

“I will,” Cale whispered. “so you stay alive too. That’s our deal.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other as if afraid to let the other go.

Because tomorrow, the world would burn and tomorrow, they would face Muzan and everything that came with him.

But tonight, they were simply two people clinging to each other and a promise neither intended to break.

Yet.... that promise was broken.

It all happened in an instant, so fast Cale barely had time to register the wrongness of it before it was already too late.

Muzan’s laughter echoed as his blood surged like a living thing, piercing through flesh and bone and threading itself through Cale’s veins. Cale felt his body betray him, his muscles locking, and breath hitching as something foreign took hold.

He was parasitized.

“No–!” Giyuu’s scream tore through the battlefield, his voice raw and desperate. His blue eyes were wide with horror as Cale’s body turned against him and crimson veins crawled beneath pale skin like cracks in porcelain.

Cale tried to speak, tried to warn him, heck he tried to say anything at all.

But his mouth wouldn’t obey him anymore.

All he could do was look at Giyuu.

I’m sorry.

He mouthed the words slowly, carefully, praying to the Gods he detested that Giyuu would understand. Giyuu shook his head violently, his tears spilling freely now as he staggered forward.

“Don’t, please–” Giyuu pleaded him. “Don’t look at me like that. You promised me! You said– we said–”

Cale felt Muzan laughing inside him, at their desperatation and elated at their despair. He felt his body being twisted and turning into a something that the sun didn't stop Muzan anymore.

And with that, he didn’t hesitate anymore.

If this was the end, then he would choose how it ended.

He gathered everything, every last shred of power left to him, and forced it inward. Yet, still his gaze never left Giyuu’s face.

'Live,' he thought desperately, 'please live.'

The explosion that followed was blinding as sound vanished and heat swallowed the world whole as Cale detonated from within, tearing Muzan apart at the source. Pain existed for only a heartbeat before it disappeared entirely, replaced by an overwhelming sense of falling.... then nothing.

And when Cale opened his eyes again, the smell of blood and ash was gone.

He was back in Serena’s office.

For a moment, Cale simply stared at the ceiling, disoriented, before pushing himself upright. His body felt whole and very much alive. 

Huh, guess that worked.

Serena stood nearby, her expression heavy with sorrow. She didn’t speak at first and instead, she stepped forward and pulled him into a brief and firm hug.

“You did well,” she said quietly when she finally pulled away. “better than anyone could have asked.”

Cale swallowed, yet, his throat felt oddly tight.

“You’ve accumulated enough good karma now,” Serena continued as she met his gaze. “Your task is complete, you can return to your own world now.”

The words should have brought relief, the closure he seeked for, the ending he worked his butt off.

Yet... Cale didn’t answer.

His mind drifted back to the battlefield, to the a pair of blue eyes reaching for him with unrestrained desperation. To Giyuu’s voice breaking as he screamed Cale’s name. To the promise they had made with their foreheads pressed together in the dark.

We’ll grow old together, he said.

Heh, he really was a liar.

Cale clenched his fists before slowly letting go as he finally looked back at Serena.

“…I hesitate,” he admitted quietly.

Because no matter how many worlds he had lived in, no matter how many deaths he had faced, the image that haunted him now wasn’t Muzan’s end.

It was Giyuu, crying, reaching, and loving him in his final moments.

When Cale woke up again, it was to a ceiling he knew far too well.

Artificial sunlight filtered softly through familiar curtains, and dust motes danced lazily in the air as if nothing in the world had ever gone wrong.

For a long moment, Cale simply lay there, staring upward, listening to the quiet of a house that was undeniably and unmistakably his.

And then the door burst open.

“Cale!”

“Cale-nim!”

“Young Master Cale!”

“Dad!”

His name was spoken in overlapping voices, their voices trembling with shock and disbelief.

Then before he could even sit up properly, arms wrapped around him from every direction. Eruhaben's grip was tight, almost painful, as if afraid Cale would disappear again if he loosened it. His children sobbed openly and curled around him as tears dripped onto the blanket.

“You’re awake… you’re really awake…”

Familiar warmth surrounded him. Cale returned the embraces awkwardly, patting backs, and murmuring reassurances until the tears slowly eased.

He told them he was fine, that everything was over now, that he was finally home.

He should have been happy.

He knew that. Truly, he did.

Yet even as laughter replaced sobs and relief filled the room, Cale felt a hollow ache settle deep in his chest.

And when he closed his eyes, it wasn’t the Roan Kingdom he saw, it was warm hands clutching his own and fingers trembling in his hold.

It was blue eyes filled with fear and love, begging him to stay.

'Live with me, please.'

The memory of it all refused to fade.

He didn't know if he was fortunate to have Record or not.

And finally, aweek passed. Life resumed its rhythm around him, his group bustling around, reports piling up at Alberu's desk, and responsibilities waiting patiently for their commander to fully return.

Still, Cale spent most of his time indoors, claiming fatigue, and cooped up in rooms that felt far too quiet.

They didn't dare to question it, as he looked far too saddened and glum since his return despite the smiles and reassures he gives them.

It was when they were scrambling ways to cheer him up that Choi Han came to him with a strange expression caught somewhere between excitement and caution.

“Cale-nim,” he started, unable to keep the energy out of his voice, “I found someone in the Forbidden Forest.”

Cale raised an eyebrow, intrigued now. Now, what are those Gods up to?

“Someone?”

“Yes, he’s… human. And he looks Asian.” Choi Han’s eyes practically lit up as he spoke, though his posture remained alert. “I approached carefully, of course. He doesn’t seem hostile, but he’s clearly trained and seems very skilled.”

Cale's interest rose despite himself.

“Anything else?”

Choi Han hesitated, before adding in a cautious tone.

“He has black hair and blue eyes. And, oh, he’s carrying a katana.”

Cale felt his world immediately stop at Choi Han's words.

Then Cale shot to his feet so suddenly his chair screeched backward across the floor. His heart slammed violently against his ribs and his breath coming sharp and uneven.

No, that couldn’t be–

Before Choi Han could react, Cale was already moving and throwing the door open and sprinting down the hall. His sudden urgency drew startled looks, causing hurried footsteps to follow behind him, but he didn’t slow down.

No, he couldn’t.

It can’t be… surely not? No... please…

His legs carried him on instinct alone. He reached the drawing room and didn’t bother knocking as he slammed the doors open with enough force to rattle the hinges.

And there a familiar silhouette stood bathed in the afternoon light.

Broad shoulders beneath a dark haori, a katana resting calmly at his side, black hair tied back neatly, and when the man turned, blue eyes met Cale’s.

Cale felt his breath hitched painfully.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Recognition flashed instantly across the man’s face. His eyes widened, lips parting as if to speak but Cale didn’t give him the chance.

Tears blurred his vision as he crossed the distance in a heartbeat and threw his arms around the man and clinging to him with everything he had.

“Giyuu–”

The name broke apart as it left his mouth, dissolved by a sob he hadn’t even realized he was holding back.

Giyuu stiffened for only a second before his arms came up, wrapping around Cale just as tightly, his hands pressing firmly into his back as if anchoring him to reality.

“You’re alive,” Giyuu whispered hoarsely, his voice shaking. “I found you.”

Cale buried his face against Giyuu’s shoulder, his fingers curling desperately into his clothes.

“I thought I lost you,” he sobbed out. “I really thought…”

Giyuu held him closer, forehead now resting against Cale’s hair.

“I promised you,” he said softly. “We’d live, together.”

And finally, for the first time since waking up, the ache in Cale’s chest finally eased.

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END