Tomioka Giyu's days became calm, like still water untouched by wind.
During this time, he lived together with Tanjiro and the others.
Every morning, he would wake to the soft patter of Nezuko's footsteps—she was always the first to rise, quietly pulling weeds in the courtyard before preparing a steaming pot of miso soup.
Tanjiro would follow soon after to practice his breathing, sometimes calling for Giyu to join him, but Giyu always declined politely with the same excuse: "My arm isn't convenient."
Zenitsu never woke before noon. The first thing he did every day was complain, "Why aren't there any cute girls here?" before being dragged up by the ear by Inosuke.
Inosuke loved to hunt in the mountains behind the mansion. He would return by sunset, proudly carrying a few wild rabbits while shouting, "We're eating roasted meat tonight!"
Life was peaceful—so peaceful it made him uneasy.
Giyu often sat alone in his room by the window, watching the four of them laughing in the courtyard. His empty sleeve hung limply at his side, and yet his mind wandered elsewhere—to the "dream."
To Shinobu's flushed ears when she handed him her poison powder. To To's stubborn back as he practiced sword swings. To Kanae's gentle smile after surviving. To Kyojuro's bright laughter.
Those memories pierced his heart like needles, making it impossible to truly settle into this quiet life.
"Giyu-san, it's time to eat."
Nezuko's gentle voice came from the door. She entered carrying a tray with a bowl of rice and several small side dishes.
"Today we have salmon and radish—your favorite."
Giyu blinked, returning from his thoughts, and nodded slightly.
Nezuko placed the tray on the table. Her expression softened with concern as she studied his pale face.
"Tomioka-san, you've been spacing out a lot lately. Are you feeling unwell?"
"No," Giyu said as he picked up his chopsticks, though his appetite was faint. "Just a little tired."
Nezuko didn't press further. "If something's troubling you, you can talk to us. Everyone's worried about you."
Then she quietly turned and closed the door behind her.
Giyu looked down at the food, then at his empty right sleeve. That hollow ache inside him returned again.
If the "dream" had been real, he should have both arms now. He should be training To, discussing poison formulas with Shinobu—not sitting here in safety, haunted by what was missing.
He set his chopsticks down and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.
For a fleeting second, he could almost hear Shinobu's voice again—soft, teasing, and warm. "Giyu-san, skipping meals again? That's bad for your health."
His eyes flew open, but the room was empty.
Then a gentle female voice spoke from behind him, light as a breeze. "What are you thinking about?"
Every muscle in his body tensed. He turned sharply.
In the middle of the room stood a woman wearing a pale lavender kimono. Her build was slender, her presence faintly familiar—she looked very much like Shinobu.
But strangely, even though he could see her clearly, he couldn't remember her face at all. Whenever he tried to focus, the details blurred away, leaving only the vague feeling of familiarity.
"Who are you?"
Giyu stood up, instinctively reaching for his waist before remembering he no longer carried a sword.
The woman didn't answer. She walked toward the window, gazing outside at Tanjiro and the others laughing in the courtyard.
Her voice was soft. "Isn't your life good now?"
"What do you mean?"
"The demons are gone. Muzan is dead."
She turned back toward him, her eyes calm and piercing.
"You survived. You broke the curse of the Mark. You still have Tanjiro and the others by your side. The Ubuyashiki family provided you with enough wealth to live comfortably forever. Isn't that enough?"
Giyu froze.
Enough?
He should be content. This was the ending every swordsman had fought for—a world free of demons, peace restored, and the chance to live on.
If he had never dreamed that dream, maybe he would feel satisfied—like the others who found peace after endless battle.
But he had dreamed it. He had seen another possibility—one where everyone lived.
"I…"
Giyu's voice came out hoarse. "I'm content."
The woman smiled, and though her face was still a blur, her smile felt achingly familiar. "Really?"
She lifted her hand, her fingertip tracing the air as if parting invisible threads. "The people from your dream—Shinobu, Kanae, Kyojuro, To… Don't you want them to live too? Don't you want to go back—to the time when you could still change everything?"
Giyu's heartbeat slammed against his ribs.
How did she know about the dream?
"Who are you?" His tone hardened, guarded but trembling with unease. "How do you know… those things?"
"I know all your regrets."
Her voice softened, tinged with something like sorrow.
"You say you're content, but your heart is filled with guilt—for failing to protect them, for surviving in this broken ending. What you truly want isn't peace. You want a future where everyone lives, don't you?"
Giyu's breathing quickened.
She had struck straight through his soul.
He did regret it. Every day.
"You don't have to deny it," she continued gently. "You're someone who values bonds deeply. You'd rather die yourself than watch your comrades fall. How could someone like you ever be satisfied with this world?"
Giyu's fist clenched so tightly that his nails cut into his palm.
He stared at the woman's indistinct face, emotions surging like a storm within him.
Unwillingness, regret, anger, longing—all those emotions twisted together until Giyu could no longer keep his calm.
"Yes."
His voice trembled with suppressed emotion as he finally spoke.
"I'm not satisfied! I'm not satisfied with how things turned out!"
"I want Shinobu to live! I want Kanae to live! I want Kyojuro to live! I want everyone to live!"
"I'm the one who least deserves to live! Why was it them who died and not me?! If trading my life could bring them back, I'd do it without hesitation!"
His long-buried feelings erupted at last, his voice choked and eyes turning red.
The woman watched him, a faint smile of satisfaction forming on her face.
Slowly, she raised her hand and spoke softly. "Good. That's your true answer."
As her words faded, the world around Giyu shifted.
The room, the furniture, the courtyard beyond the window—all disappeared.
In their place stretched an endless void—no sky, no ground—only him and the woman standing face to face.
She waved her hand, and the white emptiness began to fill with color.
Blue for water. Red for flame. Green for wind.
The colors twisted together, forming flowing images like a lantern reel passing before his eyes.
Shinobu mixing poison in the Butterfly Mansion. Kanae smiling among blooming flowers. Kyojuro teaching Senjuro how to hold a sword. To training earnestly beside him, practicing breathing techniques.
Finally, the shifting images stopped—on the face of Kocho Shinobu.
The girl stood in her Butterfly Mansion uniform, a medicine pouch in hand, looking up at him with a hint of puzzled curiosity.
Her voice came through clearly: "Is that you, Tomioka-san?"
Giyu's heart clenched, and tears spilled from his eyes before he even realized it.
"Are you truly satisfied with your life now?"
The woman's voice returned, gentle yet guiding.
"Would you go back—to the point where everything could still be changed—to protect them?"
"I would!"
"Even if doing so means it will end with your death?"
Without a second of hesitation, Giyu shouted, his voice firm and resolute.
"I'll go back! I'll save them all! Even if it costs me my life, I'll still go!"
The woman nodded slowly, her smile turning soft and almost tender. "Good. Your resolve is strong enough."
She lifted her hand, and a gentle light fell upon Giyu's empty right sleeve.
Warmth flooded through his body. He could feel it—his missing arm returning.
Bone. Muscle. Skin.
Piece by piece, it regenerated until his right arm was whole again, warm and alive, fingers flexing with familiar strength.
Then, dizziness hit him like a wave. His vision blurred, and as he fell into unconsciousness, the woman's voice reached him one last time—gentle, wistful.
"Tomioka-san… this time, don't let yourself regret it again."
Before he could answer, darkness swallowed everything.
When he opened his eyes again, Giyu was lying on a tatami mat.
Sunlight streamed through the wooden window, falling softly across his right hand—whole, warm, and real.
He sat up sharply and looked around.
It was his outpost from when he was sixteen.
On the table rested To's half-polished wooden sword. In the corner lay the medicine packs Shinobu had sent. Outside the window came the sound of sword swings.
"Sensei! You're awake!"
To's voice rang out from the courtyard. Moments later, the boy burst through the door, wooden sword in hand, face bright with energy.
"What are we training today? Water Breathing or Wind Breathing?"
Giyu looked at To's lively face, then at his own complete left hand, and finally at the medicine packs on the table. His eyes grew wet.
Was this the dream—or was that the dream?
He couldn't tell anymore.
That woman…
Something in his mind prevented him from recalling her clearly. He remembered only that she was a woman—the shape of her figure, her voice, her scent—all had faded into fog.
But deep down, he felt certain she was someone he had known.
Who was she? He didn't know.
Yet after everything, his resolve had reached its peak.
If his determination wavered, he would be trapped—forever jumping between twenty-five and sixteen, until the curse of the Mark claimed him in the older timeline.
That woman had forced him to confront his true desire, stripping away hesitation and confusion.
"Sensei? Why are you crying?"
To looked at him with worried eyes. "Are you hurt somewhere?"
Giyu shook his head and reached out, ruffling the boy's hair more gently than usual. "I'm fine."
He stood, took up the Nichirin Sword from the table, and his gaze sharpened with a new, unshakable resolve.
"Today," he said quietly, "we'll train in Hinokami Kagura."
He would never let himself regret again.
This time, he would hold his blade firmly, protect everyone he wanted to protect, and forge a future where no one had to die.
Sunlight filled the courtyard. To's cheerful voice mixed with the sound of steel slicing air, and birds sang somewhere in the distance. Together, they wove the rhythm of a vivid, living now.
He didn't care which world was real.
As long as there was a world where everyone lived, that world was truth enough.
The world might be false—
but feelings never were.
Giyu drew a deep breath and assumed the starting stance of Hinokami Kagura.
Golden light flashed across the blade as it caught the sunlight—brilliant and unyielding, a radiance cutting through the darkness to illuminate the path ahead.