Chapter Text
Becoming a hashira again wasn't part of the plan.
There wasn't even a plan, just the vague idea to keep Genya safe and not repeat the mistakes of his past life. Unfortunately, Sanemi can't just unlearn how to hunt and kill demons, and things end up happening almost the exact same way they did the first time.
Sanemi was just more of a bitch about it this time.
He drags his feet on Masachika's offer, refuses to meet his trainer for well over a year, uses dropping Genya off to school and cooking meals and working as an excuse to put it off for longer and longer while the pile of corpses he strings up in the woods gets higher and higher. He digs his siblings graves with his own two hands, carves their names into wood until his fingers bleed red. Tends to them daily, prays over his mother's like it might save her from damnation. It isn't until the day Masachika is supposed to die comes around that he finally bites the bullet and wrings that bastard demons neck with his own two hands.
Masachika asks if this means he's done playing housewife, and Sanemi tries to punch him in the face as a response, which only serves to give the boy a chance to hog-tie him and drag him all the way to his trainer. They make a deal, that Genya can come and live with them while Sanemi undergoes his 'lessons' to become a demon slayer, and they won't force Genya to train with him. Unfortunately, Sanemi forgets the key part in all of this that is Genya's personality, so he joins in anyway. Little asshole.
Of course, Sanemi blows through these lessons easily, quickly overtaking both Masachika and their trainer, no matter how hard he tries to slow himself down. By the time final selection comes, Sanemi is eighteen, and he stares at the date in his calender with a deep pit of dread.
He didn't save Kanae.
He could have—should have—he certainly thought about it enough, but—he also thought about Genya. Thought about what it would mean to die against upper two the same way Rengoku died against upper three, what it would mean to leave his little brother all alone in the world. Just like Sanemi had been when he died. It's a terrible, wretched feeling, and there's no way he can do that to Genya again. Even if that means doing it to Shinobu.
If he goes to hell for it, then at least he knows it was worth it.
It's not like he knew where she died, anyway. Doesn't know the exact date when everything blurred together in rage and grief. Just knew, the moment he turned eighteen, that it was too late. Kanae is eternally seventeen forevermore. Maybe, if he had tried, he could've figured it out and saved her. Or maybe it would have made things worse, maybe it would have set them on a path where they didn't defeat Muzan. It's too much of a risk.
So by the time the hashira meeting rolls around, two years late with two extra people in his life, Sanemi thinks he knows what to expect. Who to expect. Rengoku will be alive, which is nice, he might be able to prevent that death. Iguro and Kanroji, which Sanemi swears he's going to do something about this time, because there's no fucking way he's putting up with that bullshit again. Tengen, Tokito, Himejima, Shinobu, they'll all be here, too, and maybe it's time Sanemi comes up with a concrete plan to save them. His half baked thoughts are far from coherent. Tomioka, too, who Sanemi is almost excited to see. Mainly because he wants to see his face in two years when he sides with him about the Kamados.
Maybe they can be friends, this time.
(Tanjiro killed him, yes, but Tanjiro gave them the shot to kill Muzan first. Tanjiro protected his sister in a way Sanemi failed to. If this was when he first came back, still raw after what happened, maybe he'd still be set on a plan to kill him, but—he's just a kid. One wrong move and Sanemi would have been in his shoes. He knows what happens when a regular person becomes a demon, he knows what happened to his mother. Nezuko was the exception. And, maybe, Sanemi owes him one. He protected Genya from him, after all. Stopped him from being too much of a failure.)
All in all, Sanemi didn't think things would be too different after coming in late. After all, half the reason he stayed away was so he wouldn't accidentally change things for the worst. But then he walks into the courtyard and Kanae is standing there, beautiful and alive with a small scar over her lip. She smiles at him, just the same as she used to, and welcomes him into their ranks. Offers to introduce everyone just like she did the first time.
And Sanemi—Sanemi is stunned, stuck in a state of disbelief that leaves him only able to nod. She goes through her introductions, just the same, and Sanemi is so distracted he almost misses it, would have if it wasn't such blatant blasphemy—
"This," She says, serene, "Is the water hashira, Sabito."
And Sanemi thinks, 'Who the fuck is Sabito?'
Some peach haired, scar faced fuck is standing in front of him. A white haori with a faded orange pattern that takes up the bottom half, a plain black uniform, and a white handled sword greets Sanemi's disbelieving eyes. He nods in greeting like he's supposed to exist, like he's not some sensibly dressed abnormality. Like he's supposed to be here and not a slow talking pretty boy who ignores everyone unless he's insulting them.
"Pleasure," He says, and Sanemi almost runs him through right there.
There's no answer to his question, not that Sanemi asks it. How could he? What's he supposed to say, 'Hey, where's the guy in the ugly haori, isn't he supposed to be here? Who the fuck are you?'
And it hits Sanemi when the meeting ends, when Tengen offers to treat them all to a welcome dinner, when he's trying to convince Himejima to join them, that this—this is probably his fault. He thought for sure that staying away would prevent anything from going wrong, that the only change he'd be making is giving Genya a better life. And it worked, somewhat, Kanae is alive and it's a damn miracle, but Tomioka—might not be. Who's to say that Shinazugawa failing to kill some demon or another led to his death? Who's to say Sanemi's selfishness caused this? A life for a life. Kanae for Tomioka.
He isn't sure how to feel.
Kanae was one of his best friends. Even when he was an asshole she gave him an endless stream of compassion, she gave everyone kindness as easy as breathing. Tomioka, on the other hand, was an aloof prick who'd rather everyone hated him then try to have an actual conversation. This should be easy, he should be glad, should be thinking 'fair's fair' and moving on with his life, but—
But they're screwed.
Tomioka found the Kamados, Tomioka spared a demon, the demon conquered the sun, her blood made a cure, the cure helped them defeat Muzan. The only reason they found Muzan was because Tanjiro lured him out. Tomioka is the catalyst for everything, and if he's not here—if he's dead—then the Kamados might be, too. Demon girl with her special blood might be nothing but ash right now, or buried six feet under. There's no saying whether Tanjiro would be alive, or what he's doing if he is. Sanemi knows perfectly well how it feels to be the eldest son and lose everyone—but he still had Genya, even from afar. The same way Tanjiro had Nezuko, but without—
They're so fucked.
They're all doomed and Sanemi is the only one that knows it.
Goddammit, Tomioka. He knew he should've been the one brought back, not Sanemi. He'd have this shit handled without anyone none the wiser.
Sanemi can't believe he's even thinking this, but he misses him.
They make a plan—well, Tengen does—to meet up that evening and celebrate Sanemi's arrival. Some food place in a local village, everyone invited. He asks if there's anyone Sanemi wants to bring, and he thinks of Genya and Masachika, currently moving into the wind estate for him, and says no. He's too angry, they'll notice, they'll want to know why. There's nothing he can say. This is his own damn fault.
He promised Genya—and Masachika—that he'd try to be kinder. To get along with the others. To make an effort. If they could see him right now, they'd know just how close he was to throwing that promise away.
Karma. It has to be. The gods are looking down at him and laughing. 'Are you happy now, asshole? You've got everything you've ever wanted.'
Except Tomioka.
He drags his feet to the restaurant, a background feeling of doom filling his chest. Already in a bad mood as he walks in, already regretting every moment of his miserable second existence as Kanae pulls him down next to her. Sandwiched between the butterfly hashira and the stone. She tries to talk and make merry, introducing him to Tengens wives and the two tsugoku in the room, Shinobu and Kanroji, but it's pointless. Sanemi doesn't need a mirror to see he's the most sour-faced person in the room right now.
The only drop of hope he has for salvaging the night is dashed when the ugly haired replacement shows up, smiling and greeting everyone like his very existance wasn't an insult inflicted upon the world. Sanemi entertains the idea of cutting his head off and going rogue against the demons alone for the five seconds it takes Sabito to sit down, and then—
Tomioka is there. Behind Sabito, no ugly haori to stand out in, instead something dark blue and complimentary. There's an eyepatch on his face, a poke of a scar, and he looks so much more changed then everyone else in the room, Sanemi almost thinks he has him mistaken. But then he sees his face, a touch sour and pained, entirely silent as he sits, not bothering to return anyone's greetings, and he knows there's no mistaking that personality for anyone.
He stares at Sanemi just like he used to, and he could cry from relief if he wasn't so stunned. Wary blue eyes—eye—and a sharp gaze, he doesn't look as Sanemi remembers, but he acts just the same. Sabito lives another day.
Or not.
The peach haired fuck sits so close to Tomioka their arms brush, he tells the waiter what to bring for him, not giving the other a chance to speak, and laughs about his rank above him. Every word is a proverbial nail in his coffin for Sanemi. Worse, Tomioka just takes it, silently letting himself be walked over and barely bothering to give the other annoyed looks. It's not—wildly different to how he acted before, more subdued, maybe, but—it's still pissing Sanemi off to witness. Their literal saviour is sitting right there, and nobody but Sanemi knows it.
Without him, they'd be screwed. Without him, there'd be little to no chance of actually defeating Muzan. Without his stupid brain making such reckless decisions as sparing a demon—something no one else would do—they'd be even more screwed than they were before. Sanemi just hopes his appearance is the only thing about Tomioka that's changed.
It's strange to think.
If the spirits from his past life came back with Sanemi, he bets they'd be laughing right about now. Or bashing their heads against the wall. Especially if they could hear his thoughts. Iguro would be tearing him a new one right about now, Shinobu would be helping. Tengen would just be laughing about how stupid he is, or lamenting how boring the past few years had been.
Silently, Tomioka slips out somewhere around Kanroji and Tengens comparison of their respective training. Apparently, Rengoku is just as harsh as a shinobi when it comes to drills, which is... vaguely horrifying. Tengen seems to find it funny, and his wives share equally as alarming stories of their own childhoods as if it's amusing. The words won't stick in Sanemi's mind, gaze too focused on the now empty seat diagonal from him. It's not surprising he'd leave early, but Sanemi is still—what, disappointed? It's been a long and confusing day, he thinks he's earned some leeway.
He grumbles some excuse about needing air to walk out for a moment, debating whether or not to come back. The restaurant steps are where he stops, closing his eyes against the misting rain. If he returns too early, Masachika will fuss about him needing to get along with the other hashira, will wonder if he's being needlessly reckless with himself again. It will make Genya worry. He hates making Genya worry.
He hates that he's still not use to seeing his brother care.
Another thing that's his fault.
There are eyes boring into the side of his face, a tingle of awareness skittering across Sanemi's instincts. He half pulls his eyes open, ready to cuss out the gawper, but—it's Tomioka. Still here, still wearing the non-ugly haori and patch. He's examining Sanemi with the same distance he used to, maybe with an extra bite of curiosity. Makes sense, he's new to him, now.
When they talk, it's—different. No, no it's not. It's weird? Tomioka is cautious, careful, but actually willing. He seems softer, somehow. Sanemi is being studied by him, subtle enough to look away when he thinks he's been caught, but not enough to actually stop. Just as shameless in his oddity.
Fuck, Sanemi might have actually missed him.
Everyone else has been a mockery of who Sanemi knew before, caricatures ignoring the chasm of difference between both lives. Living in costumes like they're putting on a show. Friendly and chatting with each other like their not martyrs for the cross, two steps from death. Tomioka looks the most different, but he's the only one acting the same, the only one who seems to have the same grasp on everything Sanemi does. Which doesn't make much sense, but maybe that's just how he's always been, and Sanemi is the one playing catch-up. He thinks he finally understands him. His silence and his careful demeanor and his distance from everyone, Sanemi gets it now.
He wonders why Tomioka learned to do it in this first place. He used to think—born of spite and jealously, probably—that Tomioka had a life like Kanroji's. A happy family and a natural born talent that led him to the corps, instead of the road paved in tragedy like Sanemi's. It was the only explanation for his perfection that Sanemi bothered to come up with. Personality aside, Tomioka had seemed flawless to him, before. A hashira before him, never faltering in battle, never scolded in meetings, never bothering to stoop low enough to seek friendship with the rest of them. As if he didn't need it. He barely deigned to spar with any of them, which was a shame. Sanemi had enjoyed their spars. He was always—something to see, then. If it went on long enough, he would actually show emotion on his face. He'd actually come alive.
The jealousy and spite wasn't helped by how... pretty, Tomioka is. It was one of Shinobu's favourite things to say when she got tired of his hovering. "Did you know Tomioka has a perfectly symmetrical face? Did you know water breathing is one of the most athletic forms there is? Did you know that the year he went to final selection every demon on the mountain died and only one slayer didn't make it? Did you know that he managed to become a hashira before you despite having latent hypothermia? Did you know that, Shinazugawa?"
There was a lot of hate in such a short person. But she was the only person Sanemi could get information about him from without giving away that he actually wanted to know. If he waited long enough, she'd get annoyed and start sprouting facts until he got irritated and left. Like how Tomioka had a condition that suffered in the cold, yet he never hesitated to accept a mission in the climate.
Sanemi was likely wrong about Tomioka's past, given the way he acts, the way Sanemi now understands—it's probably a lot more on par with Sanemi's own. It just took him two lifetimes to cope the same way he does.
Then Tomioka does something strange, he offers Sanemi the bare ghost of a smile, the bare ghost of amusement, just when they're about to go back in. Soft, Sanemi thinks, stunned. He's definitely softer. Or maybe Sanemi is just tougher. It's hard to say.
Either way, Sanemi thinks he might actually get his wish this time. They could actually end up being—friends.