Pillars, are the top-ranked and most powerful swordsmen among the Demon Hunters in the Demon Killing Corps who serve as its elite warriors.
It has been known throughout all the Demon Hunters that currently there are nine pillars.
Flame. Water. Wind...
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Shocked, he stopped on his track. Because of the height differences, she can only buried her face to his back.
"How about breakfast?" Her voice muffled, her mouth covered on his haori.
"...Sorry, not again today."
It has been awhile since the last time they eat breakfast together. Not only that, it has been awhile since they even eat together, be it breakfast, lunch, even dinner.
These days, he will come back in the middle of night, only to go again on early morning.
It's no exaggeration to say that she misses him, despite living together.
They stayed that way for awhile, not moving even one muscle, relishing on each other's presence.
He wanted to stay like this forever too.
"Chihiro?" the Water Pillar finally break the silence.
"Hmm?"
"Do you... really don't want to stay at oyakata-sama's residence?"
He can feel her stiffen up, yet not answer come.
Suddenly, her embrace became tighter around him.
"Why.. Do you always ask that?" She question him, not answering his question.
This time, it's his turn to keep silence. Why? Why does he always try to drive her away?
Because he can't protect her.
"...You are much safer on his place. Even the other pillars think so too."
Suddenly, he can feel something wet seeping to his clothes, followed by a sob.
"Why? I.. I'm already robbed of my one and only purpose in life. Now, if I can't even follow my choice to live here, with you, where.. Where would my freedom be!?"
Her sobs continue to get bigger and louder, and so is his guilty.
He gritted his teeth, bangs covered his eyes. This is all his fault.
"I'm sorry. Just as usual, we will meet at the Headquarter."
He gripped softly to her hands, before prying her arms off around him before dazing off, out from their house. Leaving her alone in the darkness.
She fell to her knees, tears still flowing out her eyes.
I.. I'm no different than ten years ago.. I will always be weak. This is all my fault.
She brought her hands to her face, continuing to cry her heart out.
There, she sat on the floor, like a flower's petals falling out.
But, even though the petals fell off, its receptacle and stem are still there, standing high and strong.
After awhile, she stopped crying.
Giyū, I'm sorry I'm so weak. But I will never give up.
The hatred from ten years ago still flow strong on her blood. The very memories are carved on her brain and heart.
She wiped her tears off her face, a determined look finally adorning her face. The flame on her eyes letting her grow to a beautiful flower yet again and again.
"Kibutsuji Muzan.. I will surely break this stupid curse of yours!"
She stand up, proceeding to take a bath and fold the futon up.
Putting her cherry-blossom-patterned kimono on carefully, —starting from the white juban, adjusting the height of the kimono on her body, until putting on the obi on her waist—she looked at the mirror. A woman, clad in white kimono that ended just under her ankles, was there. She brought her hands to both of her cheeks. Suddenly, she slapped on them, hard. The slapping voice echoed throughout the room.
She looked at the mirror once again, to look at the reflection in front of her, now with red cheeks.
She finished up cooking breakfast and eat like there's no tomorrow, finishing it with her slamming the rice-bowl to the small table. "Thanks for the food." She brought her hands together, making a prayer form.
She took her swords, putting it on her back. Her silky pale pink locks, —ended with pale violet streaks— let loose on her back.
Looking at the mirror once again, she can see a reflection of a little girl.
It looked like Sakurajima Chihiro on that day, covered in blood and mud. The reflection looked back at her with the same fiery gaze.
Yeah, I'm no different from ten years ago. My hatred will always be the same, as long as I'm still alive.
She closed her eyes, walking to the door, not looking back even once.
