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Beside Every Closed Door Is An Open Window [GiyuShino]

Story Description: If Shinobu had learned anything in her life it was that life rarely turned out the way one expected. A marriage of convenience could grow into one of deep love and affection. A maimed, poisoned body could carry something beautiful, precious. A life that was supposed to end could make her happier than she ever thought she could be. Perhaps it was true what they said: beside every closed door was an open window.

Fandom: Demon Slayer/Kimetsu no Yaiba

Genre: Canon-Divergent AU, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Romance, Friends to Marriage of Convenience to Lovers, Pregnancy, Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending

Relationships: Giyu Tomioka and Shinobu Kocho Romance & Friendship; Giyushino [Established Relationship]

Characters: Shinobu Kocho (POV Character) and Giyu Tomioka

Rating: T for Thematic Elements (Please see "Warnings" below for more details)

Warnings: Heavy Themes, Survivor's Guilt, Fear of and Mention of Pregnancy Loss, Fear of and Discussion of Possible Miscarriage, Unplanned Pregnancy, Angst (but there is a hopeful ending). SPOILERS FOR THE KNY MANGA!!

Word Count: 3008

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another site.

Thank you for reading! 🦋

“The moon is lovely tonight…”

Shinobu smiled almost in spite of herself as Giyuu’s voice trailed, but as she turned around to face him, she frowned. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

“Sorry,” Giyuu mumbled quietly, taking a seat beside her on the engawa. “It’s chilly out here. Are you cold?”

Shinobu shook her head. “I’m fine. I was warm inside.”

Humming, Giyuu nodded. He leaned back on his hands and stared up at the night sky, and Shinobu was almost sure that this was the end of everything he had to say before he sighed and asked, “Shinobu, is something troubling you?”

She paused and seriously considered a flat out lie. However, it had been ages since she had been able to lie to him whether because he knew her too well to take her deflections at face value now or because he was finally comfortable enough with her to actually call her out for holding things back from him. In truth, there wasn’t much she wanted to keep from him these days. After everything that had happened, secrets usually seemed like a waste of precious energy. “Why do you ask?”

Giyuu blinked at her. The look on his face said, ‘Because I know something is troubling you’ more than any words he could have said in response. However, he said, “Because I’m worried about you.”

Shinobu chuckled with a somewhat dismissive wave of her hand before she playfully poked him in the arm. “What business do you have getting all worried about me, Tomioka-san?” She tilted her head towards him teasingly with a cheeky, crooked smile, but he merely blinked at her again.

“I’m your husband.”

“Don’t remind me,” she teased with a playful roll of her eyes and a smile that she was certain must betray her affection, especially as she watched Giyuu’s mouth twitch in the corners before relaxing into his signature concerned frown. He had used this argument several times in the past, even long before he had actually felt like her husband, back when he lived halfway across the Butterfly Mansion, back when he was cordial but distant—when he would flush red if they so as much as accidentally brushed hands, when he wouldn’t even dream of looking at her the way he was now. In the beginning, their marriage was nothing more than a bond of convenience between two lost and lonely people who were desperately trying to find their way in a world they felt they had no place in. They had both expected, no, had planned to die in their final confrontation with Kibutsuji and his remaining Moons. Surviving was like stumbling over a missed stair in the dark—but there was no banister, no railing to clutch onto just the feeling of falling into the unknown.

They both hated it. Perhaps that had been what had bonded them. Well that and the gossip of the busybody townsfolk wondering what an unmarried man and woman were doing constantly together up at that hospital. Shinobu had never cared much about others’ opinions of her, but as the Demon Slayer Corps had been disbanded, they all depended on civilians for their livelihoods now and couldn’t afford to be social pariahs.

It was Shinobu herself who had jokingly suggested a marriage, months after she had woken from her coma and long after Giyuu had healed from his amputation. ‘You practically live here, Tomioka-san. Everyone in town is talking about you—it’s unseemly. You might as well just marry me and move in,’ she had teased followed, shockingly, by his matter-of-fact but earnest, ‘Okay.’

“Shinobu...” His sigh pulled her out of her thoughts. “What’s wrong? I know there’s something.”

She sighed and leaned back on her hands, staring at the sky rather than at him. “The moon really is lovely tonight…”

Giyuu blinked at her, clearly unamused. “Shinobu…” He stopped. “I’m sure you have your reasons, and you don’t have to tell me…” He reassured her but a hint of desperation, of concern crept into his voice. “Can you just promise me that you’re okay, regardless of whatever it is?”

Her mouth quirked into a smile, and she poked at his arm. “You really are worried about me, huh?”

“Of course, I am,” he replied in earnest rather than playing along with her teasing. “We don’t keep secrets from each other—not anymore…”

She met his eyes and could see the fear in him, that twinge of pain and betrayal that would never completely go away. All the understanding and forgiveness in the world could never completely erase the fact that she had poisoned herself and lied to him about it, but she knew his anger was with himself at being unable to stop her and being unable to protect her rather than with her for keeping it from him. Still, when they had married, despite it having only been for practical purposes, she had vowed to no longer keep secrets from him, and she had kept that promise, at least with big secrets—all except for one, kept and buried out of ignorance then out of denial, then fear. But even he knew that one now…

Shinobu took a deep breath. “Would you believe me if I told you I was expecting?”

Giyuu blinked at her. “Expecting…what?”

A breathy laugh escaped from her mouth, and she rolled her eyes. “You’re such an airhead.” She stopped abruptly and shook her head as she gently patted her abdomen. Though it was already bloated with the beginnings of a slight curve, it wasn’t all that obvious that she was carrying a child yet, but she hoped even the somewhat oblivious Giyuu would catch on to her meaning. His eyes widened.

“Are you…are you really…?”

“Yes, I know it’s unbelievable, but there’s no other explanation for it. I even asked Aoi for a second opinion.”

“Aoi knows?”

Shinobu nodded. “All the children know, actually. It wasn’t my plan, of course, but they figured it out on their own. Those super senses of theirs, you know…Apparently Zenitsu can hear the baby’s heartbeat. He says it’s strong but…” Her voice trailed as she stared down at her abdomen with a sigh. She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “I’m already several months gone, I’m afraid, but not showing all that much yet. I should’ve realised it sooner, but I honestly didn’t think I could possibly be—I never thought I could have a…”

“A baby,” he finished for her though his voice was distant, almost wistful. “A baby—you’re…we’re…” His smile reached his eyes, and his face was bright as he pressed his hand against her belly. “A baby, Shinobu.”

“Don’t.” Knots coiled in the pit of her stomach, and something twisted deep in her chest. She jerked away from him abruptly—her attempts to sound detached failing as she practically pleaded with him, “Don’t do that, Giyuu...”

His face flushed, but he recoiled his hand. His voice trailed off somewhat unsurely. “Shinobu…This is good news...” She shook her head, and Giyuu’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand…”

Shinobu sighed and pulled her knees to her chest, unable to look at him as the words, the fears that had weighed heavily on her since she had discovered her pregnancy tumbled out of her mouth before she could even begin to stop them. “It won’t last, Giyuu. You know what that poison did to my body. It’s a miracle I’ve even managed to conceive. I can’t imagine I’ll actually be able to carry to term...” As her voice trailed, she shook her head bitterly, something sorrowful, something broken in her eyes. “I told you…I told you before we even got married that I probably wouldn’t be able to give you children. You said you didn’t even want them.”

After a long, heavy pause, Giyuu took a deep breath. “That was a long time ago…Things are different…”

“You’ve changed your mind?” she interrupted him more forcefully than she had intended. “You’re concerned about not carrying on your family name?”

He shook his head. “No. That doesn’t matter to me.”

“Then what’s changed?”

The faintest tint of pink flushed in his cheeks. “I love you.”

His words meant far more than he had said. Neither of them had any misgivings about the fact that they had married for purely practical reasons: so that he could stay at the Butterfly Mansion indefinitely without causing a scandal and making them social pariahs in the community they now depended on for their livelihoods, so that he could legally care and provide for her butterfly girls if she was eventually to succumb to the havoc wisteria poison and her battle with Upper Moon Two had wreaked on her body, so that they could share financial stability given that she had a skill that translated to civilian life whereas he did not. There were other reasons too, of course—all of them practical and socioeconomic. Love was never one of them, or at least, not one she had been aware of. That came much later and very gradually, to the point that they had been teased by the family for acting like bashful, lovesick school children despite the fact that they were already married.

That was the fact of the matter though—at the time, they had never really felt married in the first place. It truly was a marriage in name only. They were just two people who happened to live and work in the same household but who had completely separate spaces and lives. They had never even held hands. The idea of having children together, even if they had believed it was somehow possible, was almost ridiculous. Or at least, it had been.

Giyuu was right. Circumstances had changed. Their marriage was no longer purely business, was no longer purely platonic, and neither of them wanted it to be. Each night, Shinobu fell asleep nestled into his chest. Each morning, she was awakened by the faint brush of his lips against her cheek. She had run her gentle fingers through his soft, unruly hair, had kissed him until she couldn’t see straight. She knew every scar on his body, knew his most desperate hopes, his greatest dreams, and deepest fears. She had allowed herself to put down her guard, to feel safe in his arms, to let him see even the parts of herself that frightened her. The steady sounds of his breathing quieted her nightmares and she clung to him as if he was an anchor, the one constant in an otherwise tumultuous life. She still called him “Tomioka-san” when she was cross or wanted to tease him, but in her private most thoughts and in their private most moments, he was Giyuu and he was hers. She knew how much he loved her without him needing to say it.

Still… Shinobu had never dreamed that she could ever give him a child, even if it was something they could have wanted. As far as Shinobu was concerned it just wasn’t going to happen for them, but she could see in Giyuu’s eyes that this hadn’t stopped him from wishing for it—or at least from being overjoyed that it had happened. Something panged in her chest as she thought of that light fading from his eyes when her weakened body inevitably couldn’t bring their child into the world.

“I love you,” he repeated quietly but matter-of-factly. “And you are carrying our child. Do you not want me to be happy about it?”

“Not if you’ll only end up being disappointed…and devastated.” Sighing, Shinobu shook her head and sniffled. Her voice wavered despite her attempts to sound detached, and her words were so quiet she wasn’t sure Giyuu could even hear her. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up…”

Giyuu nodded solemnly, but he reached out to her and ran his hand gently across her back. Before he stroked the side of her cheek with the back of his hand, her eyes burned, and it was only when he asked, “Shinobu…are you unhappy?” that she realized a glistening tear had managed to struggle free.

She sighed. Unhappy wasn’t the right word. Confused. Terrified. Guilty… She wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to be alive. How could she possibly bring a child into a world she didn’t belong in in the first place? But even in spite of that, she loved her child—she wanted her child. She wished she had a stronger, healthier body that wasn’t beaten down from injuries and wisteria. She wished she could be strong enough, sturdy enough to protect and carry their baby. But she feared she wasn’t. The choices she had made long ago had consequences and despite her own suffering in the aftermath, she had never regretted what she had done, until now. Until she carried a child in her poisoned womb. If by some miracle, she managed to bring the baby to term, who knows what kind of health problems the child would have from sharing only the sludge in her blood and her body for nine months. The child was innocent—but never even stood a chance, and Shinobu couldn’t help but feel like a terrible mother.

“This was a mistake…” she muttered quietly.

“The child?”

“The marriage…”

Something sad passed over Giyuu’s eyes, but he shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Giyuu, you deserve someone whole.”

He blinked at her before glancing to his right side where his arm had used to be as if to say ‘I’m not exactly whole myself…’

“A wife with a stronger body,” Shinobu continued.

“I wouldn’t want her…” he replied calmly, matter-of-factly as if it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘Because she isn’t you…’ his eyes said as they met hers.

“Giyuu…” She began to argue though she wasn’t sure what her argument even was at this point. “You deserve someone who can give you a child, continue your family line.”

“But Shinobu, you have given me a child…” He gently pressed his hand to her abdomen again, and she took a long, deep breath. Something prickled behind her eyes, and her words got tangled and jumbled in the back of her throat.

“I…I don’t know what will…I don’t know if I’ll be able to…” She turned to stare at him, and her voice hitched under the weight of her words, “The baby might not make it.”

Giyuu ran his hand through her hair, and his face softened. “Then we’ll meet her in our next life, and Kanae and Tsutako will spoil her rotten until then.” Shinobu could hear the fear in his voice, the sadness, and knew he was being brave, but she also knew that he meant it when he said, “No matter what happens—this isn’t something I regret.”

Something warm and bittersweet panged in her chest, but she asked quietly, “Her? You want a girl?”

His mouth twitched just barely in the corners as he admitted, “A little.” He shrugged his shoulders slightly. “It’s mostly just a feeling…”

As her lips curled into a soft smile, she leaned back against him and nestled into his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, and they sat together in comfortable silence watching the twinkling stars and sparkling fireflies. No more words were said, but they didn’t need to be.

Someday they would sit together like this again when the bulge in her belly grew so big and round that she couldn’t even dream of being comfortable enough to sleep, when the jabs and kicks of the baby were strong and frequent enough to wake her. Someday they would walk around the garden rocking their little one until the night breeze soothed her to sleep. Someday they would sit on the edge of engawa and style their little girl’s hair into a long dark braid clasped with a butterfly hairpin. Someday they would watch her toddle around after Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke until the boys picked her up and tickled her or carried her on their shoulders or until Nezuko showed her how to chase fireflies with big, laughing eyes. Someday they would smile as she picked beautiful flowers with Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho or giggled from her hiding place in Aoi’s laundry basket or watched in wide-eyed wonder as Kanao held a butterfly on her finger. Someday their little girl would run across the garden right into their loving, waiting arms, and someday, by some miracle they couldn’t even begin to comprehend, she may even walk hand and hand with a little boy, a younger brother she loved more than her own life, like history repeating itself. But now at this moment, they had no way of knowing what the future might bring. No one did.

If Shinobu had learned anything in her life it was that life rarely turned out the way one expected. A marriage of convenience could grow into one of deep love and affection. A maimed, poisoned body could carry something beautiful, precious. A life that was supposed to end could make her happier than she ever thought she could be. Perhaps it was true what they said: beside every closed door was an open window.

And Giyuu was right, she supposed—no matter what happened, no matter what the future might bring, her life with all of its ups and downs that extended far longer than she had ever planned, their life unexpectedly shared together for the rest of their days, however many of those they had left, and now perhaps most unexpected of all: their child’s life, another existence, another person born out of love that she was never supposed to want, was never supposed to have—these were not things to regret. It may not be the life she had planned. It may not be the life she had expected, but still…in this moment, she was glad, was grateful to be here to live it.

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