68. Found Family

Morning sunlight filtered through the hospital window, casting pale, golden light across the quiet room. Dust drifted lazily through the beams of light, the only movement in a place that had become painfully familiar over the past five months.

Giyuu remained asleep in the hard, wooden chair beside Hana's bed. Even in sleep, he refused to let go of her. Their fingers remained intertwined, his hand wrapped firmly around hers as though loosening his grip would somehow allow her to slip away forever.

The door creaked open quietly. Tanjiro stepped inside first, carefully balancing a tray in his hands. Nezuko followed close behind, carrying a small, ceramic container wrapped in thick cloth to keep the contents warm.

Tanjiro paused, lowering his voice to a whisper. "He's sleeping here again."

Nezuko nodded softly, her eyes moving past her brother to her sister's bedside.

She lay exactly as she had yesterday... and the day before that... and every day for the last five months, her chest rising and falling slowly. A few strands of dark hair had fallen across her face.

Nezuko's chest tightened painfully. She had been forced to get used to the sight of Hana lying there, unmoving and silent, but her heart had never truly accepted it. This was Hana. Her older sister. The person who had shielded her with everything. The person who had thrown herself into danger again and again to protect the people she loved. When Nezuko had been a demon, Hana had never once given up on her. She had held her hand through the darkest nights and promised, with a kindness that never wavered, that they would see the day when Nezuko became human again.

And now, Hana had missed it. She had missed the sunshine. She had missed the peace.

Nezuko's eyes slowly filled with tears.

"Nezuko..." Tanjiro murmured, stepping forward to gently place a hand on his younger sister's shoulder. His smile was gentle, but his own eyes carried the same grief. He understood. Every morning they walked into this room hoping today would be different. Every evening they left carrying the same disappointment.

Then, his eyes shifted to Giyuu. The Hashira looked exhausted. Dark, hollow circles lingered beneath his closed eyes, his face noticeably thinner than it had been before. Even in sleep, his brow was furrowed, his expression weighed down by a constant worry.

Everyone knew he had stopped taking care of himself. Nezuko scolded him daily for skipping meals and refusing proper rest.

Nezuko walked towards the bed and carefully placed the container on a nearby table. The scent of freshly cooked rice and miso soup slowly spread through the room. She glanced toward Hana and smiled. Cooking had always been one of Hana's favorite things. Back when they were children, in the safety of their home, Hana would often help their mother prepare meals, her hands moving with grace while Nezuko eagerly followed beside her, trying to imitate every motion, every pinch of salt, every stir of the ladle.

Giyuu shifted in his chair. His breathing hitched before his brows furrowed deeper and his eyes slowly drifted open. He blinked, the harsh light of the morning sun clearly painful. Then, he noticed Tanjiro and Nezuko standing beside the bed.

"...Tanjiro... N-nezuko," Giyuu said, his voice raspy and thin from disuse.

"Good morning, Giyuu-san," they said in unison.

Giyuu straightened in his chair, his movements stiff and uncoordinated as he tried to overcome the heavy fog of sleep. He looked disoriented, his blue eyes searching the room until they landed back on Hana. His neck ached from another night spent sleeping in a chair. Almost immediately, his eyes drifted back to Hana. Only after confirming she was still there did he finally exhale.

Tanjiro's expression softened.

"You should be in a bed, Giyuu-san. You haven't slept properly in so long."

"I'm fine," Giyuu replied, his tone was dismissive, though his voice lacked conviction.

Tanjiro folded his arms. "No, you're not. You're barely holding yourself together."

Giyuu didn't respond. His thumb absentmindedly brushed across the back of Hana's hand.

Nezuko crossed her arms as well, standing firm glaring at him. The expression was so familiar-it was exactly how Hana used to glare at Giyuu whenever he forgot to treat a wound or neglected to eat after a training session.

"You also haven't been eating properly have you?" Tanjiro asked, his voice low.

"I'm eating," Giyuu countered. "I eat enough to keep going."

"Giyuu-san," Nezuko said, her voice quiet but firm. "Please eat a little more... Hana wouldn't want to see you like this."

Giyuu remained silent refusing to meet their eyes.

Tanjiro sighed, a long, weary sound that spoke of the shared burden they all carried. "You need to take care of yourself, too. You think you're the only one who misses her? You think we don't feel this emptiness in our lives every single time we wake up? We miss her too, Giyuu-san. Every day. We all wish we could wake up and hear her voice again."

"I know you are worried about Hana," Tanjiro continued, his voice trembling slightly as his eyes moved toward his sister. "We all are. We feel the weight of it every second. But if she wakes..." He stopped, his throat closing up. He couldn't finish the thought. "When. When Hana wakes up and sees you like this..."

Giyuu's fingers tightened around Hana's hand.

Tanjiro swallowed hard, his eyes
shimmering with unshed tears. "She would be so upset. She would ask why you weren't eating properly. She would probably scold you for being so reckless with your own health. Is that really what you want her to see the moment she opens her eyes?"

Nezuko nodded, her eyes fixed on Giyuu. She stepped closer, reaching out to gently touch Giyuu's arm.

Giyuu looked at Hana and gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead.

"I just..." Giyuu's voice broke, becoming a fragile whisper. "I'm terrified that if I stop, even for a moment, I'll lose the connection. I feel like if I keep holding her, she'll know I'm still here. She'll know she has a reason to come back."

Neither Tanjiro nor Nezuko spoke. There was nothing they could say because they understood exactly how he felt. Not a single day had passed without them missing her. Her absence had left an emptiness that lingered in every corner of their lives, an emptiness that nothing and no one could ever truly fill.

Nezuko reached for the container she had brought, the lid clicking open to reveal the steam rising from the soup. She placed it directly in front of him.

"You need to eat," Nezuko said softly, her eyes softening. "For her. You need the strength to be here when she opens her eyes. If you collapse, you won't be able to hold her hand."

Giyuu stared at it, the steam curling around his fingers. He looked down at the food, then toward Hana. He finally sighed and nodded and taking the wooden spoon. "...Thank you."

After a while, they began eating together. Tanjiro and Nezuko ate slowly. Giyuu only picked at his food at first. Only after Tanjiro shot him a familiar, unimpressed look did he reluctantly take another bite.

The three of them sat beside Hana quietly. The room settled into a comfortable quiet once more. Only the occasional clink of chopsticks disturbed the silence.

Then suddenly, Tanjiro froze. The spoon in his hand clattered softly against the tray. His eyes lowered, his breath caught in his throat.

His eyes widened. "...Hana." His voice was barely audible.

Giyuu immediately looked up, his eyes wide. "What? What is it?"

Tanjiro didn't answer. He was staring at Hana's hand, the one that had been resting limp against the mattress for so long.

Giyuu saw what Tanjiro was looking at.

Her fingers moved. Only slightly. A twitch, a curl of the knuckles against the sheet.

Everyone went completely still.

Giyuu gasped, his voice trembling. "Hana?"

His chair scraped against the floor as he stood, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He stepped back, his hands hovering, afraid to touch her. He had dreamed of this moment for a hundred nights. He had prayed for it in the dark, quiet hours when he thought he was losing his mind. But now that it was actually happening... he was terrified.

"Hana..." His voice shook, breaking on her name.

Nezuko covered her mouth with both hands, tears spilling down her cheeks in a rush of relief and joy.

Tanjiro stepped closer, his own hands shaking as he reached out to hover near her. "Hana!? Are you there? Can you open your eyes for us?"

Hana's fingers twitched again. A tiny, deliberate movement.

Giyuu couldn't move. He stood frozen, his eyes fixed on her face, his entire world narrowing down to those closed eyelids.

"Hana?" he repeated, his voice barely a breath. "Please. Come back to us."

Her eyelashes fluttered. Once.
Twice.

The three of them held their breath, the air in the room thick with a mixture of terror and hope so profound it felt like it might tear them apart.

And then, very slowly, as if emerging from a deep, long sleep that had lasted an eternity, Hana's eyes began to flutter open.