Chapter Text
Your father was killed first, his shout abruptly silencing itself—only, the room wasn’t silent at all, the chilly midnight air filled with his ragged gurgling. He would die last, choking on his own blood and bile, forced to watch his eldest and only son have his head torn off his body. Vertebrae by vertebrae, bones and cartilage crunching, tendons and muscles wetly snapping apart, the still-warm blood draining from your brother’s expression, his terror immortalized in violent death. Your mother shrieked and cried, begging for mercy. She pleaded with it, bowing before the thing in the black pool of her husband’s blood, and begged that he might deign to spare your life. Her baby daughter. The last one. Just take me, not her. Leave her alone. She’s my baby. She’s just a little girl. Please don’t touch my baby! The demon laughed at her, its low, baritone voice almost reverberating through the tatami floor. It chose to kill her swiftly.
“A flat-chested whore like you doesn’t satisfy my appetite, but since it’s my lucky night, I’m feelin’ kinda generous. You may enjoy a painless death before I eat the flesh off your bones!”
Your mother was already dead, her skull caved in from the blow.
“But your girl?” You heard it muse cheerfully. Only a meter away from you now. Slowly, it finally turned its gaze on you. Its four mouths curved upwards into a horrifically creepy grin.
“Oh, yeah. Mmm. Now that’s what I’m talking about. A virgin child? With beautiful tits like yours? Oh… oh, yes… it is my lucky, lucky night indeed!”
The demon’s clawed, knobby fingers reached at you as it began to crawl towards you. You flinched away, but you were too afraid to close your eyes. You hadn’t moved a muscle or said a word. You should be running to escape, or screaming for help. Maybe then you might’ve saved your family members. But like a worthless coward, you pretended as if you didn’t exist, as if this wasn’t happening, as if this thing in front of you hadn’t just killed your beloved family in front of you within five minutes, as if it wasn’t currently obscenely moaning and drooling at you, as if your father wasn’t spending his last moments watching you with tears pouring from his eyes because there was nothing he could do to protect you, as if it wasn’t tearing open your kimono, ripping your arms off your bare chest as you tried to cover yourself, too afraid to even cry, the tears streaming down your face silently, as if its furry, matted tail wasn’t flicking at the inside of your thighs, as if somebody was on their way to rescue you and this would somehow all be over and you wouldn’t have to die and this would all just stop and go away—
---
You honestly didn’t remember any of the details of that night. Even thinking about it made your heart stutter and your blood pool from your face. You’d blocked out the memories of that night ever since, and you were too afraid of what you would remember if you tried to. It’s for your survival, Shinobu had soothed you once as you cried into her shoulder, plagued by traumatic and haunting nightmares and the guilt of being unable to remember your family’s faces. I know. It’s too painful to remember, because you loved them so much.
But you undoubtedly remembered him.
He lay so unmoving, so still that he looked more like a corpse than he did a boy. His eyes were closed, almost cemented shut with the metallic scent of blood that practically soaked him. His hair was so dark it melted into the moonlight. You only recognized him from the torn, bloodstained haori he wore over his uniform jacket. Half crimson, in which the blood looked like splotches of spider lilies blooming across the autumn meadow field; half geometric, the bold cubical pattern still easily discernible, even with the pool of rust red darkening its golden-green fabric.
“Run. Get Shinobu. And Kanae, too!” you ordered the girl at your side, turning to her almost as if in slow motion. Her eyes were wide with horror, her body frozen with shock. She was probably thinking the same thing. It’s a dead body. But as impossible as it seemed, there was no mistaking the way his chest fluttered, rising and falling with breath. You dropped to your knees, pushing your cheek right to his nose, so close to him that you felt his warmth against your skin. He was alive, but he wouldn’t be for long with this injury.
A crow cawed at you urgently, frenetically hopping as if angry on the ground by Giyuu’s body, but you just couldn’t understand it. Ever since you’d been rescued from demons some 3 and some years ago, you had lived with the Kocho sisters on agreement that you would work for your keep as one of the Butterfly Estate’s assistants. But you would never join the corps.
Shinobu was about a year older than you, but already so much sharper, incredibly intelligent and athletic. You respected her, but loved how she was soft beneath her bluster. In a way, her attitude reminded you somewhat of the older brother you couldn’t remember the face of. He’d been 3 years your senior once. You’d outgrown him this year. He would’ve been 16.
Kanae was 20. You had fallen in love with her as your other big step-sister easily, just as quickly as you’d bonded with Shinobu. You hadn’t had any sisters before, only your brother. They cared for you so deeply and carefully and unconditionally that you were somehow able to find a strong will to live again, despite what the demon had done to you in your innocence. If you hadn’t been saved by them, you weren’t sure you would’ve chosen to keep the gift of life—something the man dying before you now had given you himself.
The man you were currently stripping naked, ripping apart his shirt to examine his wound, was Giyuu Tomioka. Tomioka-sama, you should say, given his position as the Water Pillar, already that skilled despite being only about a year and some apart from you as your senior. You were nowhere near as brave to train to become a corpsman and give your life to the cause, the way that Kanae and Shinobu seemed to be able to do with ease. But though you couldn’t train physically, you studied as hard as you could in all matters of Shinobu’s research, as well as botanical and pharmacological sciences, anatomy and physiology, and everything you could think of in order to become a better physician. Shinobu shouldn’t handle all the responsibility herself.
His breath hitched, a pain response, when you dug your hands into his chest. Flesh squelched in your bare hands. His blood was still warm, thick on your palms. Something had slashed him, or perhaps bitten him—it was a severely deep wound. Perhaps on a soldier’s instinct, his hand flopped up and weakly squeezed your wrist, a grimace furrowing his brow.
“I’ve got you,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you were winded by the sudden, shocking memory of what he’d said to you three years ago.
---
You don’t remember how he got here, or when. You couldn’t answer when he asked you if you were alright or what your name was. You were frozen, unable to move, breathing in shallow, instinctually fast breaths. You felt sick, your stomach churning. You were sweating but frozen. You felt nothing but everything. You thought you might faint before feeling something heavy press down on your shoulders, forcing you to look up. Your teeth chattered loudly. You felt like you were falling out of your skin.
“I’ve got you,” he said firmly. His eyes were blue. A deep, navy blue, like in a winter’s portrait of the ocean, endlessly deep, yet calling you to look deeper. Something warmed your arms, reminding you of the body you inhabited. He’d taken off and wrapped his haori around you, pulling you into his arms into a hug. You leaned into him as dead weight, still unable to move, still unable to blink. But you listened to him.
“You’re safe, now,” he whispered comfortingly. More and more, he felt real. But it still seemed like a dream. Like he was some angel of the ocean breeze.
“You’re okay. I promise. I’ve got you, now.”
Finally, the tear rolled down your cheek, and you began to cry.
---
Every day, you watched over him.
You didn’t move from your post once the other patients were discharged. You spent every moment of your day with him. You and Shinobu had performed the best surgery you could, but the most you could hope for was for him to pull through. There was nothing else you could do but pray. And prayers were useless.
You felt so powerless. He had saved your life against all odds and now you were tasked with returning the favour, and yet, 3 years later, you hadn’t yet grown enough, and now you might fail. He could die here, and then everything you’ve ever touched might go and die too. You constantly feared for the patients that float through the Butterfly Mansion. Some people were just not meant to be saved. It hardened you, because if you grieved for every pair of fallen butterfly wings, you’d have no tears left to cry. But if there was one wish, just one life that you could have granted for all the pain that you’d endured—you’d wish for Giyuu to wake up. You’d do anything for that.
He had been comatose for about five days straight, now. You’d changed out his bandaging. You cared for his wound around the clock. You’d spoon fed him bone broth, cooked for his nutrition. You gave him water. You turned him and bathed him. You spoke to him, even.
“The girls get jealous of me, you know. They complain and demand that they want to take care of the ‘hot guy’ too. Can you believe that?”
You wrung out the towel, the water dripping back into the basin, cascading pleasantly. Giyuu was a good listener, even if you were an awkward talker—given the whole ‘he’s asleep and can’t talk back or hear you’ diagnosis, sure—but you couldn’t help but find comfort in it, all the same. Shinobu and Kanae were kind, but you just didn’t feel like you could trouble them with your worries when they had plenty of their own. You were mainly talking just to talk, never expecting a response.
“I guess I can believe it. A little. But don’t tell anybody I said that to you, okay?”
You peeled off his dressing. The wound was still an angry red, but had calmed quite a bit with the poultice. It spread from his clavicle to his hip. Whatever battle he’d fought must have been harrowing.
“Shinobu’s birthday is coming up soon. I snuck out to the town earlier and got her a textbook from the pharmacy. It’s an abstract on how certain medicinal herbs have a biomechanical effect on demons. I think she’ll really like it. Don’t you?”
You wiped his brow gently, your hands trailing his bare skin, dewy with the cool water. His fever made him burn so hotly that you almost felt heat radiating off of him.
“But then she told me your birthday actually passed already. It was on the eighth? I had no idea. But I guess I never asked.”
Your hands slowed until they stopped. You stared into the basin wistfully, not really knowing what expression was looking back up at you from the water.
“Sorry, Tomioka-san. I wish I’d gotten you something for your birthday. But honestly, I kind of blew my allowance already, so I’d have to make you something instead of buying you something. Let’s see… your favourite food, maybe?”
You tried to imagine it. Your meetings with him hadn’t exactly been numerous. You hardly remembered first meeting him three years ago. But he’d spoken to you a couple of times since then, and every time, it was like your heart raced even faster.
“Oh, it’s you. Have you been settling in well?”
“Y-yes,” you’d stammered, hating that you’d stuttered. “Thank you. Er, sir.” Your head bobbed in a bow,
“There’s no need for formalities. I don’t particularly care for them.”
The others told you that Giyuu Tomioka scared them for his lack of conversation and piercing, judgemental gaze. But he had never felt that way towards you. Awkward, perhaps, but always kind. And gentle. Something like a stray cat. Silky black haired, brightly blued eyed—a little shy, as if too stubborn to acknowledge his own desire for closeness—skittish, but always gentle.
You’re his favourite, they’d cooed, and it embarrassed you how much you liked the idea of that.
“I honestly can’t remember if you ever talked about your favourite food,” you hummed, frowning as you thought back to the rare encounters you’d shared with him. He was busy, and it was apparently miraculous you’d seen his face more than twice—it was especially an act from god if he smiled, Shinobu had insisted teasingly, though Giyuu seemed to always be smiling whenever he was with you—it was only natural that you couldn’t spend more time with him that you did. This was probably the longest company you’d shared with him, ever. It was only too bad he was unconscious.
“...sa…da…”
You dropped the towel on his face, yelping as you did. You grabbed it off. Giyuu’s eyes were still shut, but his dry lips did seem to be moving. You scrambled to get closer and listen.
“What did you say?” you asked breathlessly, wondering if you should hope that he’d reply and show that he had been awake this entire time, or that he wouldn’t and that he hadn’t been paying witness to your endless rambling this entire time.
“Sak…” He wheezed. “Sake… daikon…”
“Are you awake? Tomioka-san!” You shook his shoulder, but his eyes remained closed.
“Sake daikon…”
“Are… are you awake? Hello?”
“Sake daikon…”
“Are you asleep?”
“Sake daikon…”
“Say ‘sake daikon’ if you can hear me.”
“Sake daikon…”
“Say something other than ‘sake daikon’ then. Like, what’s your name?”
You held your breath.
“...sake daikon…”
You blew it out. So he wasn’t yet awake. But he was responsive, the way he insistently muttered sake daikon under his breath. It was a couple minutes before he seemed to drift off to deep sleep again and acted like nothing had ever happened.
“Well. Sake daikon it is.”
---
He woke up on the sixth day, almost immediately after you’d fed him the broth of boiled salmon and daikon radish. It really did have to be his favourite food if it could wake him up from the dead.
“How—who—ugh…”
“Don’t move too much! You’re still recovering. Here, just lie back.”
As strong as he was, he was clearly weakened when he flopped back into bed at your light push on the forehead. His eyelids fluttered frantically, blue eyes hazy from sleep.
“It’s been about a week. You’re alive.” It was a declaration to him, at first, but you mouthed it again to yourself. You’re alive? You couldn’t believe in a god at this point. But you thanked them all the same. Thank you for bringing him back to me alive.
“It’s a late birthday gift, I know. But it’s all I could think of. Salmon and daikon radish soup is pretty simple, but it’s nourishing, so…” You trailed off, not knowing how to continue when he was staring at you silently.
“Uh…” His voice was hoarse and raspy from not being used. He cleared his throat. His voice was deeper than you’d ever known it before as he whispered to you, “thank you.”
“It’s no problem,” you all but gasped out, still not quite getting over your shock at how attractive he sounded when he spoke. “Now, open up!”
You all but jammed the spoon into his mouth, a lean piece of fish and tender dashi-soaked radish stuffed in, to prevent him from replying. If he could speak, he might ask why you were blushing so hard, the itchy redness burning all the way from the top of your scalp to your toes. You were too embarrassed to even think about it.
“It’sh delishoush,” he mumbled incoherently through the mouthful of food, his head falling back into the pillows. At first, you worried he’d passed out and gone back into the coma. But he chewed slowly, sleepily, a chatoyant smile of satisfaction spread across his face. You couldn’t understand why others would call him scary when he so happily looked like this in front of you.
“I’m glad,” you all but whispered back, unsure of why tears were beading in your eyes. You hastily swiped them away, gathering another spoonful of soup for him. The two of you were quiet, not saying another word. Though it seemed like all the words you knew, as well as countless thoughts and feelings were all whipping through your mind. You couldn’t think of what to say. You were just so happy being with him.
---
“Y’know, her birthday is the tenth month. Fifth day.”
Giyuu paused as he laced up his sandals. Shinobu’s voice was haughty, even as she whispered, as it always was whenever she spoke to him. He was trying to leave in the dead of night, hopeful that it would cause less attention than if he left in the morning.
He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to leave if you cried or asked him to stay, after all.
“I see,” he replied flatly.
“You should give her this. As thanks, for saving your sorry butt. Kanae and I picked it out.”
She tossed him something that he caught swiftly. He glanced at the item in his hand. A blue hairpin, with expensive looking embroidery work and freshwater pearls dangling in gold chains off the end. It was clearly expensive.
“Are you giving this to me?” he asked flatly. Dumbly and doubly stupidly, in Shinobu’s opinion, because even though she didn’t say it in words, her disgusted face said it enough.
“No, dumbass! I’m telling you to give it as a birthday gift to her.”
“But, why?”
“Are you serious? You’re hopeless. Because girls like it when guys get them presents.” She wiggled her eyebrows emphatically. “And if I left the task up to you, you wouldn’t be able to pick a hairpin because you’d get stuck in decision paralysis like a typical man and walk away without buying a thing and then mope about it and overthink it until the day passes because you forgot and now it’s too late and you act all guilt-ridden like an annoyingly kicked puppy and—” She gasped for breath. Giyuu cut in forcefully, humiliated enough.
“Alright, I get it!”
Shinobu grinned cheekily. “So save the date! I won’t forgive you if you forget.”
“And what do you get out of this?” he asked heatedly, glad that you weren’t around to see him like this. “What are you so invested in?”
Shinbou tapped her chin thoughtfully, pretending to mull over it carefully. “Hm… my own enjoyment?”
Giyuu thrust the hairpin into his breast pocket. “Whatever,” he muttered, unsure of what else to say, turning away instead. Shinobu grabbed his shoulder and turned him forcefully, all of the sudden, despite the size difference. Her grip was that painful.
“She worked really hard to care for you. She washed all that blood out of your haori by hand and even learned how to sew to stitch it back together while you were lying there like a total knob. You know she talks about you all the time? She’s got googly eyes over you. Personally, I don’t get it. But she really likes you, and she’s my little sister. So if you hurt her, I’ll do the same thing back to you, twice as badly. …okay?”
Shinobu backed off with a saccharine smile, satisfied with her threat given the look of submission in Giyuu’s eyes. Kanae would never think to say anything like this to him, but it was pretty clear what the younger Kochou sister’s intentions were.
“...I’ll think about it.”
He left before he could be teased anymore. But the blue hairpin felt heavier than it was in his pocket. He wondered what kind of face you’d make when he gave it to you. Whether you’d look at him the way you did just now, as if you cared about him. As if you liked him, the way he thought he might like you.
But surely, that was impossible.