right person, wrong time.
pairing: giyuu tomioka x f!reader
You never believed in silent love.
You were the noisy one. the laughing, talking, fearless one. Joyful even in tragedy. Warm even in bloodshed. The kind of person who made the darkest corners of the Demon Slayer Corps feel alive.
Until him.
Until the first day your eyes landed on Giyuu Tomioka — the Water Hashira whose presence felt like cold mist clinging to your lungs. He wasn't striking because of beauty or power, though he certainly had both. It was the loneliness in his eyes. The way he stood at the edge of every room, invisible despite being impossible to ignore.
The moment you saw him, something in you shifted.
You fell in love. Quietly, hopelessly, and far too deeply.
And suddenly, you, the extroverted girl who never shut up… couldn’t speak.
Whenever Giyuu entered the room, your voice died. Your hands fumbled. Your heart clenched. Around everyone else, you were a wildfire. Around him, you were smoke.
You tried to ignore it, heaven, you've tried, but even Mitsuri noticed.
“Y/N!” she gasped one afternoon, grabbing your hands. “You like him!”
Your face turned red instantly. “W–What? I don’t— I mean— He’s just—”
Shinobu smiled at you over her tea cup, eyes filled with annoying knowing. “You stutter too much when he’s near. It’s adorable.”
“It’s pathetic,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.
“It’s love,” Mitsuri said cheerfully. “And you should talk to him!”
You almost choked. “Talk to him? Mitsuri, he barely talks to anyone!”
Shinobu shrugged with an innocent smile that wasn’t innocent at all. “Exactly. You’d be special if he spoke to you. Go on. Just try.”
And because you were foolish—or maybe brave—you did.
====
The next morning, you gathered every scrap of courage you owned, walked up to Giyuu at breakfast, and forced yourself to speak.
“H–Hello, Tomioka,” you managed.
He blinked. Slow. Blank.
“…Hello.”
Silence.
Painful, suffocating silence.
You could survive being sliced open on a battlefield, but standing here in awkward silence made you want to disappear.
“Um… did you sleep well?”
“…Yes.”
Another silence.
Mitsuri watched from a distance, giving you a dramatic thumbs-up. Shinobu looked like she was trying not to laugh. You wanted to strangle them both.
Still, it was something. A beginning.
Slowly, day by day, you tried again.
“Good morning, Tomioka!” “…Morning.”
“Are you heading to train?” “…Yes.”
“Did you finish your patrol?” “…Yes.”
It wasn’t much. Just pieces of conversation. Small, short, clipped replies that barely qualified as answers.
But you convinced yourself it mattered.
That maybe he just needed time.
That maybe cold things learned to thaw.
A week later, you were assigned a mission with Giyuu — just the two of you. You tried not to panic. You tried not to stare at him when he wasn’t looking. And when the battle ended and you both limped back down the forest path, you tried to speak.
“Tomioka,” you said softly, “your arm… is it injured?”
He didn’t respond at first. You thought maybe he didn’t hear you. You tried again, gentler, worried.
“Let me see it. I can wrap—”
He turned his head sharply, eyes narrowing.
The glare hit you like a punch.
Cold. Sharp. Irritated.
Like he wished you would shut up. Like your concern was disgusting to him.
You froze.
“I don’t need anything from you,” he said flatly. “Stay focused on yourself.”
Then he walked ahead, not bothering to see if you followed.
Your feet felt heavy. Your chest felt hollow. You stared at the ground, blinking hard so your tears wouldn’t fall where he could see.
You finished the walk in silence.
And that silence drowned you.
You didn’t go to dinner that night. You didn’t meet Mitsuri or Shinobu. You sat alone in your room, hugging your knees, letting the tears fall quietly, angrily, endlessly.
You had been kind. You had tried. And he looked at you like you were nothing.
So the next morning, you changed.
You greeted everyone, except him. You smiled at everyone, except him. You walked into a room and pretended you didn’t notice he was there.
If he didn’t want you near him, then you would leave him alone.
===
Days passed. Then weeks.
No more “good mornings.” No more soft smiles. You stopped glancing at him. You stopped hoping for him.
And slowly, painfully, you let him go.
Sanemi noticed before anyone else.
“You’re quieter,” he grumbled during training. “Weird. Don’t like it.”
You snorted. “You don’t like anything.”
“Yeah, well…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “I like it when you’re annoying.”
Somehow, that made you smile.
===
Giyuu noticed the silence immediately.
At breakfast, your usual seat was empty. In the courtyard, you talked with everyone, except him. Even during missions with other Hashira, you seemed brighter. Lighter. Happier.
But not with him.
He told himself not to care.
He told himself you were safer staying away.
He told himself he didn’t want to ruin your life the way he ruined everyone else’s.
But telling himself didn’t stop the ache.
He started looking for you.
When you walked past him one evening, your eyes didn’t even flicker in his direction. No greeting. No hesitation.
He stopped walking.
For a moment, he just stared at the empty space where you used to stand beside him.
It hurt.
He didn’t understand how badly until the night he found himself outside your room, hand raised to knock, but he couldn’t do it.
He whispered into the dark,
“…I’m sorry.”
But you didn’t hear him.
Too late
Weeks later, he finally worked up the nerve to speak to you. To apologize. To explain the fear that kept him distant. To tell you the truth that he cared. That he always cared.
He searched for you outside, in the courtyard, where you liked to sit in the evenings.
But you weren’t alone.
Sanemi stood beside you, holding out a peeled peach, cheeks slightly red. You laughed and thanked him. He looked at you like someone who finally found something worth protecting.
Giyuu’s heart twisted painfully.
He stepped forward. Just one step.
“…Y/N, I—”
Your laughter drowned his voice. You didn’t even know he was there.
Sanemi leaned a little closer, brushing a stray leaf from your hair. You didn’t pull away. You smiled at him—the smile Giyuu used to secretly wait for.
And for the first time, Giyuu understood,
You had survived loving him. You had grown past the hurt. You had found warmth somewhere else.
He opened his mouth, your name trembling on his tongue, but no words came out.
He wasn’t brave enough.
Not the way Sanemi was. Not the way you were.
So he turned away.
Quiet. Small. Broken.
You fell in love with him at the wrong time. He realized he loved you when it was too late.
And neither of you would ever know the words the other never said.