Chapter Text
The shining silver edge of Sanemi’s sword glinted in the sunlight as he leveled it at Giyuu’s chest. It was his way of asking—challenging—Giyuu to spar with him, which was his way of alerting Giyuu that he’d grown bored of swinging his sword against bamboo targets. Giyuu looked up, unsurprised, and wordlessly sheathed his own sword, which he had been polishing, and stood to oblige him.
“I’m not going easy on you.” Sanemi warned him, his eyes wide and angry but his lips in a wicked grin, apparently pleased to have been indulged. Giyuu’s eyebrows twitched briefly upwards and he thought about rolling his eyes, but didn’t, and lowered himself into his fighting stance instead.
Though to anyone else, the two Hashira seemed to hate one another—and Giyuu truthfully wasn’t entirely sure they didn’t—something in Sanemi had changed lately. He didn’t outright ignore Giyuu as often as he used to, even when Giyuu continued to ignore him. Giyuu had noticed him speaking with other Hashira, too, chatting in the gardens with his arms crossed like he resented his own personability.
Perhaps it was Tanjiro’s Hashira training that had jolted him out of his resentment for Giyuu. Perhaps it was the death of a friend that had shaken him. Giyuu remembered a long time ago, in what felt like a different life, Rengoku once remarking that he and Sanemi weren’t as different as it seemed. He’d not really elaborated, now never would, but it was these moments when Giyuu realized how right he’d been.
While Giyuu watched him in calculated silence, Sanemi shot forward sword-first, true to his word that he would not hold back. Giyuu sidestepped, not unsheathing his sword yet, allowed Sanemi’s strike to pass just beside his ear, ducked again when Sanemi returned with a slash to the side.
“Oh come on, I wanted to spar, not a dance lesson.”
This time the gibe managed to elicit a nearly involuntary scoff out of Giyuu, which Sanemi apparently took as encouragement. He leapt back, sword leveled for a moment, feigned right and went left, finally forcing Giyuu to unsheathe his own blade to block the strike. Their swords clanged loudly together; Giyuu’s footwork was smooth and quick, Sanemi’s powerful and precise. After a moment, and a particularly close call with Giyuu’s sword snapping toward his stomach, Sanemi fell back and watched him.
“Alright. Done with your warmup?” He panted, visibly winded by effort. “Ready to spar now or do you need to stretch a little more?”
Giyuu scoffed again, a short, amused sound that bordered about as close to a laugh as Giyuu ever came. The irony was not lost on him that he and Sanemi got along best when Sanemi had a sword at his throat. Probably something about a sense of manly respect. Not necessarily something Giyuu shared, but it certainly wasn’t foreign to him, either. In fact it felt familiar, achingly so.
It was easy in those moments to recognize Sanemi’s standoffish attitude as the type of only half playful taunting so typical of eldest brothers.
He knew about Genya. Not because Sanemi had told him, but because he had eyes and could see that he and Genya were the spitting image of one another. Giyuu knew better than to ask what that situation entailed, why Genya trained under Himejima and not Sanemi himself, why Sanemi never mentioned a brother and why Genya never so much as came near him. But whether they were on speaking terms or not, that label isn’t something that leaves you.
Giyuu slid to the side, struck hard with the hilt of his sword to try to knock Sanemi down, leapt back when Sanemi tried to return. Sanemi’s sword was a blur coming fast toward him, he blocked a few strikes, dodged a few more, before abruptly Sanemi disappeared from his view. Giyuu blinked and he was on his back, Sanemi having ducked down, sweeping his leg out to trip him.
He grunted and rolled to stand, but was blocked by Sanemi planting a foot down on his chest and laughing as he pointed his sword at Giyuu’s throat.
“Losing focus?” Sanemi asked, laughing. Giyuu frowned at him and squirmed beneath his foot, no longer quite as amused by his brotherly joking. “Aw, so eager to try again? You sure you’re up for it?”
“Knock it off, Sanemi.” Giyuu protested. Sanemi’s eyebrows pulled up, his grin fading.
“Huh?”
Giyuu shoved him again. “I said knock it off—”
Sanemi watched as, beneath him, Giyuu paled. Abruptly he planted his palm against Sanemi’s ankle and shoved him off with none of the restraint he’d shown moments prior, his mouth a tight line. Giyuu let his breath escape his nose as he retraced his own words and realized what it was he’d actually said.
Knock it off, Sabito.
“Who’s Sabito?” Sanemi regained his footing after being shoved so forcefully, crossed his arms and cocked his head a bit to the side in his curiosity. Giyuu ignored him and rolled quickly to stand. His face burned; he retrieved his sword from the ground and replaced it in his scabbard and hoped Sanemi didn’t hear it clacking against the sides as his hands shook.
“What’s your problem?” Sanemi’s grin was gone and had been replaced with a deep scowl. Giyuu backpedaled. “Hey!” He tried again. Giyuu turned on his heel and fled the training yard without another word, leaving Sanemi to watch after him in silence.
X
He didn’t actually remember much of that day. Later he’d hear others describe how they remembered their most traumatic moments in perfect detail and almost wish he could, too. At least give Tsutako the respect of recalling what it was like when she was torn slowly apart, eaten alive while he hid like a coward. The clearest part of the whole ordeal was her final instruction to him before she shoved him into his hiding place and slammed the door shut. The closet wasn’t big enough for both of them. In an instant she’d chosen, in an instant she’d sacrificed herself to save him, pressed her finger to her lips and told him:
Don’t make a sound.
All he could do was obey her. He’d hid there for what felt like a lifetime, his eyes shut tight, palms pressed as hard as he could muster against his ears.
The screams still made it through.
He remembered, when he crawled out from the hiding place once the world, his world, had fallen silent, the blue light of dawn coming in a harsh sliver through the crack in the door of the closet, that he’d promptly vomited. The floor was covered in more blood than he would have thought possible. It soaked the dirt floor, ran down the walls in rivers, dripped from the edges of tables and collected in a vast ocean before him. He could barely see through the tears in his eyes but there was no sign of Tsutako among the sea of red.
Giyuu had tumbled out of the apartment and into the deserted early morning street, finally breaking his last promise. He screamed and screamed and screamed and didn’t stop as he picked himself up and sprinted for Main Street, his bare feet leaving scarlet footprints.
“Help me! Help! Monster! Please, help me!” His voice was hoarse from disuse, it broke and cracked but he did not stop. Giyuu ran into a crowd of early commuters and grabbed the nearest one by the arm and screamed up at him.
“Help me!”
The man recoiled. “Whoa, kid, calm down!”
He just kept screaming. The crowd closed in, more than happy to gawk at the screaming child but not listen to what he was saying.
“My god, is that blood?”
“Somebody call the police!”
“Please!” Giyuu begged. “Th-the monster! There’s a monster!” Through that same crack in the closet he’d seen its ink black hair, needled teeth, twin horns rising from its gray forehead like spires. He’d seen its silhouette rising into view in the moonlight, dwarfing his sister’s tiny figure. Giyuu pulled on the man’s sleeve. “Help me! Help me!”
The man wrenched his arm away. “Alright, alright, calm down!”
“Police! Stand aside!”
“Get him to the hospital, I think he’s gone mad!
Somebody was pulling him away, gently at first, then with more force as Giyuu resisted. The more he reached out and begged and screamed the harder he was pulled until finally he felt cold metal around his wrists as they were restrained behind him.
“Please! There’s a monster! It had horns and teeth and—please! Help! Help me!”
He was placed in the back of a police carriage between two officers, still had not stopped screaming. He was ushered into a private room with white walls and floors and sheets and still did not stop screaming and begging someone to listen to him, if they’d just listen he would take them back to their apartment and help him find Tsutako and his world would un-shatter and everything would be alright.
He did not stop screaming until the sedatives kicked in.
Finally he could hear staff talking as his consciousness drifted in and out and the medication rotted his memory away like mold.
“—blood everywhere. Must’ve been some maniac with a knife.”
“…no body…dismembered.”
“No parents, we found death certificates from a few years ago…”
“…poor kid…”
*
A woman in a white dress was adjusting his pillow and humming a song. He abruptly sat up and blinked at her, stopping her from continuing her work, and wondered how long it had been since he’d been taken to the hospital. His head pounded and throat ached.
“Your visitors will be here soon.” The woman said as she smoothed his white sheets. He stared at her.
“Tsutako…” he murmured. The nurse made a sympathetic face at him and knitted her hands together.
“It’s your family. They’re taking you home today.”
“Family?” He felt his brow furrow. The only family he had was his parents. His sister. The nurse spoke before he could.
“They’re your aunt and uncle, from Tokyo.” The nurse said. “They’re doctors. They want to take care of you.”
He didn’t want his aunt and uncle. He didn’t want to be taken care of. He wanted his dirty apartment and tiny bedroll and the way his sister cooked his rice. More than anything he wanted somebody to listen to him. “But…the monster…”
The nurse patted his hand. “It’s alright, Giyuu.” He didn’t recall telling her his name, and wondered how she knew it. “There’s no such thing as monsters.”
His eyes filled with tears as the door to his room opened.
A well-dressed couple was led into his room by a third man in a doctor’s coat. Giyuu stared at them and scanned their faces for any familiarity. They had dark hair but that was about where the resemblance ended. Their gaze was cold and detached, like they were looking at him through the lens of a microscope. They greeted him quietly and told him their names. The woman did not get close to him, but the man knelt down beside his bed.
“Dr. Kikushi tells us you’ve been a very good boy today.” No outbursts, the delusions seemed to have slowed considerably --had been the Doctor’s actual words. “How would you like to get out of here?” Giyuu stared at him in silence, mouth hanging open for a moment before the man continued. “There is a very special school, full of boys just like you, where you can learn and get the care you need.”
Boys like me? Giyuu thought. School? He understood later that the man was not describing a school. He was describing a sanatorium.
The woman stepped forward. “We brought you some clothes. We can leave tonight once you get ready, we already have tickets for the train.”
“Leave.” Giyuu echoed. “B-but we can’t leave. The monster is still out there somewhere!”
“Now, Giyuu.” The man--his uncle--said. “We know what you’ve been through was just awful, and it must have frightened you very much.” Giyuu narrowed his eyes. “But there are no monsters here, and none where we’re going, either. We’re going to be safe.”
Lured in by the concept of safety, numbed by sedatives and exhausted by the crumbling of his world beneath him, Giyuu obeyed his visitors and dressed in their clothes, sat beside them on the trolly to the train station, let them hold him by the wrist while they waited on the platform. The night was cold; Giyuu wished one of them would give him their coat like his father used to. Instead they stood detached and calm beside him, his uncle holding him by the wrist and his aunt holding onto the handle of a brown leather gladstone bag and Giyuu watched the faces milling around him.
A sound near their platform drew his attention. Laughter. A girl and her father were exiting a train that had just pulled into the station; he was wrapping a scarf that was too big for her around her shoulders and neck and head, swallowing her up and making her giggle. They looked like they were headed back into the city, back home from some holiday. He watched as they crossed the platform and stared openly at the girl, who met his eye back and smiled at him. Her eyes were blue, like his. Like Tsutako’s.
The monster is still out there somewhere. If it could take his sister it could take her too. Her, her father, the strangers across the station and across the city. They were in danger.
If he couldn’t save Tsutako, maybe he could save them.
“Wait.” he told his uncle, who turned to look at him. “Wait, we can’t leave yet.” He tugged very lightly against his uncle’s grip and found it to be fairly loose.
“Giyuu.” his uncle warned. “What have we told you about this?”
“We can’t leave yet. The monster is still out there! It could hurt somebody!” His uncle leaned down and nodded at his wife, who set her medical bag on the ground and opened it.
“Giyuu, there is no such thing--”
“You’re not listening to me!” Giyuu began to holler, drawing the attention of other passengers. “It killed her! It killed her, I saw it!” The first time he’d used that word. Kill . The first time he allowed himself to accept what had happened. Tsutako was gone. It was too late for her. It may not be too late for the rest of them.
“Giyuu! Be quiet, you’re going to frighten the other passengers!” His uncle hissed. Don’t make a sound. That’s what had gotten him into this in the first place. If he hadn’t opened his mouth, if he’d just followed his sister’s instructions…
Then she’d still be dead.
He wrenched against his Uncle’s grasp. Over his own shouting he heard him call to his aunt.
“The sedative.” He hissed.
“No!” Giyuu’s scream became high and shattered and frantic. The other train passengers turned to stare as Giyuu finally managed to rip his wrist free of his uncle’s grasp. They both called his name, high and sharp and authoritative, but Giyuu did not listen. Instead he turned tail, sucked in a breath, and ran.
X
It wasn’t totally out of the ordinary for Giyuu to drop everything, go silent, and give him the cold shoulder, Sanemi supposed. He didn’t pretend to understand what went on in that freaky mind of his. But it also wasn’t out of the ordinary for Sanemi to refuse to let something go. This time whatever was going on in Giyuu’s brain involved him too, since it was he who Giyuu had called by the wrong name. So Sanemi refused to let it go.
First he tried to find Giyuu directly and ask him again who this Sabito person was. It was so like Giyuu to throw a fit and disappear, and this time he’d done a particularly good job at disappearing. After a few hours of searching he changed strategy.
Shinobu was in her garden making notes on her various flowers in a large, neatly bound leather book. She looked up when she saw him enter and smiled.
“Good afternoon, Shinazugawa. What brings you here?”
He crossed his arms. “You and Tomioka are friends, right?”
Shinobu stared at him, then slowly closed her book. “We are?”
“Well, he likes you more than me.”
She furrowed her brow. “He does?”
Sanemi groaned and rolled his eyes. “Look, would you just answer something for me?” She waited and watched him shift his weight in apparent discomfort. “Who’s Sabito?”
“Sabito?” Shinobu tested the name a few times on her lips. “Hmm. I’ve never heard of a Sabito before…where did that name come up?”
“He accidentally called me that while we were sparring. Then he gave me the silent treatment like he always does and ran off. He was probably just being an ass.”
Shinobu’s thin lips pulled into a frown. “I wouldn’t know. The only one he really ever spoke with was Rengoku.” She said sadly. “Why don’t you ask Tanjiro? I bet he’d know! They had the same teacher, after all.”
“No way.” Sanemi wrinkled his nose and groaned. “I’m not asking that little brat anything.”
“Now, now!” Shinobu chided, though she could tell Sanemi’s heart wasn’t really in it. Sanemi sighed and shifted his weight again. He never did have it in him to be cruel to Shinobu.
“Well if you don’t know, I’ll just ask him again.”
“…do you think he’ll tell you?” Shinobu raised her eyebrows.
“He will if I make him.” Sanemi crossed his arms again and Shinobu shot him a look. “Doesn’t it bother you ? The way he’s always walking around and staring, refusing to talk to anyone?” It was angry, but he said it with the tone of someone defending himself. “Like, we all get it, you’re so high and mighty. You’re so much better than all of us.”
“I don’t think that’s why he’s quiet, Sanemi.”
He didn’t really believe her, but also couldn’t argue with her when she was making that face at him, with her big, haunted eyes. Before he could say anything, the shrill cry of a crow distracted him, causing them both to look up to see Sanemi’s crow fluttering down to perch on his shoulder.
“Orders from the Master!” The crow announced shrilly, directly into Sanemi’s ear, prompting him to wince and lean away. “You are to head North with the Water Pillar Giyuu Tomioka to investigate a demonic presence!” Shinobu grinned at him with the distinct impression of someone trying not to laugh.
“Well, looks like you’ll be able to ask him after all.” She said.
Giyuu had gotten the same message; if he didn’t have such respect for the master he would have thought he was playing some kind of trick on him. Why he’d called Sanemi by Sabito’s name now , after all the years he’d known Sanemi, managed to escape him. He tried to brush it off like it didn’t matter, that it was just the heat of a spar and meant nothing more, but even he knew that wasn’t true.
He’d managed to hide from Sanemi in a far wing of the mansion until late that night, when he thought it might be safe to sneak out into the gardens to get some fresh air. He should have known better. They practically ran smack into each other while turning a corner, Sanemi appearing to be heading back from the Butterfly Mansion and Giyuu on his way there.
“Watch it.” Sanemi grunted as Giyuu sidestepped. “You get the orders?”
Giyuu wordlessly produced the parchment his crow had given him and handed it to Sanemi.
“Yeah I know. I got them too.” Sanemi shoved the paper back toward him. According to the mission description, the demon they were tasked to find had possibly been traveling across several smaller towns under the guise of a traveling troupe of performers. It was unknown if the entire troupe of actors were demons, or only one. It was their orders to find out, and destroy them.
Giyuu took the paper back, folded it, and placed it in his breast pocket. “Meet at dawn at the mansion gates?”
In spite of himself, Sanemi crossed his arms and glared. “Oh, so you can talk.” Giyuu blinked. “You want to explain your little temper tantrum earlier?” So typical of Giyuu to act like nothing happened. Sanemi glared into his face, his deep indigo eyes framed in heavy lashes. “Of course not.” He pushed past Giyuu and kept walking in the direction he’d come. “The city is half a day’s walk and the show isn’t until tomorrow. I’m going to sleep.”
Giyuu watched him go and curled his hand into a fist and cursed the thickness of his throat. He’d hoped Sanemi would have gotten the picture that calling him by Sabito’s name was just an accident, that it didn’t mean anything, that every time he thought about it his throat closed up tight like he was being strangled, but Sanemi seemed committed not to care. Without much of another option, Giyuu let him go and tried to focus his mind on the mission instead. Sanemi was nothing like Sabito anyway.