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Its been four months since Muzan was defeated. Sanemi was having a… difficult time adjusting to the aftermath. No, such a watered down phrase didn’t cut it. He was in a wretched state. Of all the surviving pillars, Sanemi was the least adjusted. Hell, even Iguro, who had been blinded and chewed near fatally, was learning to exist in his new life. He had help, after all, with Mitsuri pledging to help with daily tasks.
Gyoumei had insisted on going back to a lifestyle as independent as he could manage. He was given a prosthetic leg, and spent most of his days deep in prayer at his estate. As for Giyuu, Sanemi didn’t know nor care what he was up to. He tried to spar with Sanemi one day, when they were both feeling physically up to the task. Sanemi had broken down, however, and in his state of despair had almost torn Giyuu's other arm clean off.
Sanemi leaned forward on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples as he recalled the incident that finally pushed Giyuu away.
Sanemi was struggling in his training drills. It was a chilly evening, but he didn't care enough to feel it seep into his bones. Holding a weapon had become a challenge for him after losing his middle and index fingers on his right hand. It wasn’t just the weapon though. His daily life had been upended, the 21 year old not having had to use his left hand for basic tasks before. Eating with chopsticks was a struggle. Writing letters? Completely futile.
As such, Giyuu had taken to sending a warning of his arrival and not waiting for a response. Not like Sanemi even wanted him there, but he just wouldn't leave him alone. The raven haired man didn't seem to care about anyone's opinions before, and killing Muzan hadn't changed that. Sanemi was trying to blow off steam before his eventual arrival, but this had only made him more frustrated on that day.
Sanemi's sword slipped from his hands, and he collapsed to his knees in defeat. Killing demons was all he knew, and just because Muzan was gone didn't mean he could stop. Sure, all the demons born from his blood would be gone, but there had to be more… right? Surely, somewhere, a demon, even though there hadn't been any more attacks…? Losing two fingers shouldn't stop him from his purpose.
Giyuu sighed somewhere behind him, making him jump. Sanemi turned to sneer at him, “What do you want this time, Tomioka?”
Giyuu set down the package he was holding, no doubt more ohagi. There was a time that Sanemi would eat those in secret, but lately he'd had a hard time stomaching anything. He wasn’t going to offset his nutrition though, so he had been eating only healthy shit. Ohagi wasn’t on the list.
“Would you like to spar with me?” Giyuu asked. He didn't wait for an answer, reaching for a wooden sword anyway. With his single arm.
Sanemi glared at him, his pale purple eyes smoldering. A lump in his throat kept him from expressing his rage though, so sheathed his nichirin blade and retrieved one of the wooden ones.
Their sparring session was sloppy, on both ends. Giyuu was trying to get over his new habit of favoring his right side, but he was otherwise able to adjust to wielding a weapon with his left arm. This only made his heavily scarred training partner more irritated in jealousy, and soon Sanemi had managed to knock it clean out of his hand with the force.
Without thinking, Sanemi found himself on top of Giyuu, gripping his remaining arm with his intact hand. The other was wrapped tightly in his uniform collar, barely having the sense to not grab his throat, and he stared down into those abyssal eyes with contempt.
“How long are we going to keep this shit up?” He asked, his voice hoarse.
The man below him answered calmly. Terrifyingly calmly. “Until something happens, or we die.”
Sanemi snapped a little. He couldn’t bear the thought of going on like this. But this was all he could do. He bared his teeth at Giyuu, gripping his arm almost impossibly hard. The man below him barely winced, but the flash of pain and fear was definitely there. Seeing Giyuu actually make an expression at him, and it was *fear*, made Sanemi let go in shock. The white haired man got up and backed away before he could do something he would regret.
“Leave. Now. Get the fuck out of my home.”
Giyuu didn't need to be told twice. As soon as he was out of sight, Sanemi roared and sobbed into the night. The kakushi who had opted to remain in the estate didn’t help him inside until he was spent, fearing his retaliation but understanding he would only get sick if left out in the cold. He did open the package of ohagi the next day, but could not eat it.
Today, no one visited him. No one had in a long time.
This morning, Sanemi made his way to town. He continued to bring his sword with him wherever he went, on the off chance that he would run into a demon at all. He simply could not believe that they were all gone.
He discovered a watermelon at one of the stands. He frowned, knowing that the fruit was important. Not to him, but to Genya. Oh, gods, Genya. Sanemi nearly broke down right there in the square, thinking about the time he learned that Genya never lost his love of the mild taste.
It was at the makeshift funeral that Himejima had arranged. After the mass funeral that had been held for every slayer that lost their lives. Not only in the final battle against Muzan, but every slayer before them as well. Sanemi hadn’t shown up to that, clutching Genya's purple yukata like a crutch in his hospital bed instead. He couldn't see the color any more, and the doctors told him he had lost his color vision entirely due to trauma. Before, colors had been muted. Now, all of them were gone.
Himejima had helped Sanemi set up a small shrine in a field not far from where the Shinazugawa brothers had grown up. This way it wouldn’t be in his home, but still in a place where he knew.
“Gyoumei,” Sanemi asked, kneeling at the memorial, “What was Genya like? While he was with you? Did he still like flowers? He made Mom very happy, picking flowers for her.”
The giant beside him only took a moment to answer. “I suppose he did. I introduced him to tending to bonsai. It helped his temper.”
Sanemi nodded. “What kinds of foods did he eat? When we were kids he-“ he cut himself off with a sob, tears starting to flow. “When we were kids he always really wanted to try watermelon. We couldn't really afford it, but I took on some work. Odd jobs, you know? The way his face lit up when he finally got to try it… I'll never forget how happy he was on his birthday that year…” Sanemi broke down there, collapsing in a crying heap.
Himejima rubbed his back comfortingly. “He did. Whenever it was around he asked me if we could get some.”
“Good.” Sanemi choked out, “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Genya. Gyou, thank you for taking care of him. I failed him in every way, he didn’t deserve to die.”
Sanemi bought the watermelon at the market that day, along with some flowers.
He arrived at the makeshift grave site sometime before sunset. There was nothing buried here- Sanemi couldn’t bear to lose with the only piece of Genya he had left. The purple yukata lay folded in a drawer back at the wind pillar estate. With no body left to bury, here he was. Mourning at a stone with only a name, but that was okay. Sanemi didn’t believe he deserved to be allowed to mourn normally, after what he had done.
“Hey, little bro.” He said, kneeling before it. “Things have just gotten… impossible. Theres nothing for me any more. The threat of demons is… gone. You did that, you know. If it wasn’t for your strength, we couldn’t have defeated Upper Moon One. And I wouldn’t have been able to help beat Muzan. Thanks to you, the world has entered peace.”
He took out the watermelon and began cutting it up with a knife into slices. Placing them one by one onto the offering plate. This was a slow process, and the slices were not very neat. Sanemi still could not get the hang of using his left hand for delicate tasks. But he didn’t let that hurt him any more. Nothing hurt him any more, his soul felt like an empty husk.
He continued talking, not caring about his cracked voice. Hoarse from waking up screaming, crying. Hoarse from no longer reaching his fellow pillars. “There’s nothing at all any more. No more threats. They say the world is peaceful, but the world has only been empty for me. The only thing I've known ever since Mom died was killing more demons. It’s really all over now.”
He finally finished with the watermelon, but held on to the knife. Staring at the sharp blade through dull eyes. His scarred skin, his mutilated hand, and his colorless vision. The only things he had left of his life were proof of his reckless life, letting himself get hurt so he could continue to destroy. With nothing left to destroy, Sanemi was simply a broken body.
“I'm sorry, Genya. Again. I don't think I can ever say it enough.” And it was true. Every time Sanemi came here, he ended his visit with apologies. This time though, he did not stand up. “I'm so sorry for leaving you. I was stupid. I can't deny it, I murdered our mother after she became a demon. I became a murderer. And I kept on killing. I'm just so sorry I couldn’t take you with me. I didn't want you to have the same life. But you went ahead and followed me anyway, I should have been there to guide you.”
Sanemi brought the blade to his stomach. “I failed you. As your older brother, it was my job to protect you. And because of my failure, you're dead. I can't keep going. There’s nothing here for me now that there's no more people for me to protect. I just hope that you'll come to guide me across the river.”
With these final words, Sanemi Shinazugawa committed seppuku. It was not a short process, his body trying to fight it with all he had as a pillar. There was no one around to slit his throat to end the suffering.
It was days before his body was found, and days still before Giyuu had gotten the news. Tomioka Giyuu wept that night, regretting that he was too afraid to be there when the man who he considered a friend needed him most.