Chapter Text
Sanemi screams, a sound of pure anguish and pain, as he thrashes in the sheets of his futon. The chilling sound reverberates on the still night air, echoing melancholically across the empty courtyard beyond the engawa.
Outside the gates of the estate, Giyuu pauses, lantern flickering. The screams come again, louder this time. Giyuu pushes open the gate, which creaks sadly. He walks up the stone path to the house and steps carefully onto the engawa, wobbling a bit.
Shinazugawa has left the shoji open, allowing a full view of his private quarters. The former wind Hashira is lying on a futon, arm flung out to the side, fingers twitching. The soft glow of the lantern allows Giyuu to make out the outlines of Shinazugawa’s face, twisted in an ugly emotion.
The scars across his forehead and the bridge of his nose are more prominent than ever, and Giyuu finds them entrancing. As he watches, Shinazugawa screams again, arching off the futon as he writhes and claws at the surrounding tatami.
Giyuu pads quietly to his side, shutting the shoji carefully behind him, before putting down the lantern and taking hold of Shinazugawa’s hand. “Wake up,” he murmurs. Shinazugawa’s eyes snap open immediately, and he leaps to his feet, ready to attack. For some reason, the reaction, although expected, makes Giyuu sad.
“Wh - Tomioka? What the hell are you doing in my house? I thought you were…” Shinazugawa’s shoulders sag. He flops back onto the futon, all the fight gone out of him. Giyuu knows, understands. He grips the former Wind Hashira’s hand tightly. “It’s fine.”
He knows it’s not.
“Why are you here?” Shinazugawa’s voice is hoarse. Giyuu doesn’t answer, just squeezes his hand a little harder.
The air around them is stagnant, layered with questions that go unasked and unanswered, as well as the lingering stench of misery.
“I’m so tired,” Shinazugawa says, voice breaking, façade crumbling. Giyuu remains silent, prompting Shinazugawa to continue.
“I know we’re supposed to be all happy now that we’ve defeated Muzan and the demons, but at what cost? And I just feel so selfish now, because I feel like it wasn’t worth it. I lost everything - my everything. When I first became a demon slayer, I thought I had nothing to lose. I was wrong. I was so selfish, so ungrateful. I-”
Shinazugawa buries his face in his hands. “I could have saved him. But I didn’t. He died to save me, to save the people who died anyway.”
Giyuu knows who he’s talking about. He knows Shinazugawa’s pain. When he lost his sister and then Sabito, he truly thought he would die. Just like Shinazugawa, he thought he’d lost everything.
It had taken losing even more to remind Giyuu just how foolish and self-centered he had been.
So yes, Giyuu understood.
But he stays quiet, waiting for Shinazugawa to continue.
“When I was younger, my father often beat my mother, my siblings, and me. Fortunately, he was killed by another man.” Shinazugawa’s lip curls.
“Then, one day, my mother did not come home. I went out to look for her, and I left Genya in charge of my other siblings. I had even told Genya not to open the door, but my siblings didn’t listen to him. They thought it was our mother, and, well, they were right.” Shinazugawa laughs bitterly.
“But she had turned into a demon. She killed five of my siblings before I came home and found her looming over Genya, about to-to kill him. So I tackled her. We crashed through the window - that’s where some of my scars are from - and I killed her. That’s why Genya hated me.” Shinazugawa trails off and turns away from Giyuu.
“He never hated you,” Giyuu says softly. “He blamed you at first, but he never hated you.” Shinazugawa doesn’t say anything, but his slack grip on Giyuu’s hand tightens just a little.
They stay that way until the pale winter sun peeks over the tops of the cypress trees bordering the gardens of the estate. Both had fallen asleep, Sanemi leaning heavily against Tomioka’s side. The former Water Hashira’s remaining arm is draped across Sanemi’s waist.
Sanemi comes to first, blinking blearily. The shoji is still open, and a cold breeze sweeps the room. Tomioka’s warm weight against his side is comforting, an anchor to Sanemi’s boat. His arm is wrapped around Sanemi, and strands of his silky black hair are tickling Sanemi’s neck.
Sanemi feels himself blush. Tomioka’s sleeping face is so peaceful that it almost feels like Sanemi is intruding on a private matter. His eyes are closed, long dark lashes fanning out, a stark contrast to his creamy pale skin. His lips are full and blood-red, a perfect cupid’s bow, and Sanemi has been shot in the heart.
Sanemi shakes his head violently. Since when had he been nursing these feelings for Tomioka? Since you met him, a small voice whispers in the back of his head. Sanemi shakes his head again, hard, and the movement awakens Tomioka, whose eyes flutter open. Damn.
His eyes were the color of the ocean, but not the shallows. No, this part of the ocean was deep, mysterious, and unpredictable, the part Sanemi could drown in.
“Shinazugawa?” Tomioka’s voice sounds like the ocean too, crashing and ebbing. “Shinazugawa?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.” Sanemi replies lamely. “Um, listen, thanks for last night. I didn’t mean to unload all my emotional baggage onto you.” “No, it was fine. I like to listen to you talk.” Tomioka’s face flushes a little following his last statement. Sanemi feels his own face heat up a little.
They stare at each other for a moment, before reaching an unspoken mutual agreement that they would never speak of this again.
“So, uh, do you want breakfast?” Sanemi asked. “I don’t have much, though.” “That’s fine, I’m not picky.” Tomioka replies.
They end up having cold plums and rice. Sanemi had wanted to cook some more, but Tomioka had insisted that what they had was enough. They sat on the engawa, leaves spiraling down around them. The scene is oddly domestic.
“So, Shinazugawa -” “Call me Sanemi,” Sanemi blurts out. He’s not exactly sure where that came from. “Okay,” Tomioka says, unperturbed. “Call me Giyuu.” Sanemi, who has stuffed his face with rice, turns red and nods so as to avoid spraying rice all over Giyuu. Why was he so awkward around Giyuu?
Giyuu chuckles, the sound like the gentle lap of a wave against the shore. “So, Sanemi, what do you think you’ll do for the rest of your retirement?” The question isn’t exactly unexpected, but Sanemi is still caught by surprise. The question bears a lot of weight, and Sanemi isn’t sure he wants to unpack it right now. Nonetheless, he answers.
“I guess I’ll stay here. There isn’t exactly much else I can do.”
Giyuu smiles sadly. “I guess.”
Sanemi feels like he’s missing something, but he’s not sure what.
They sit in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, Sanemi kind of likes it. They chat idly for a while, about the weather, strange cloud formations, and Sanemi even shows Giyuu his most prized possession, a large rhinoceros beetle with a glossy honey-brown shell. Giyuu fawns over it, cooing softly at the little creature.
Something about this interaction warms Sanemi’s heart.
He can already feel the walls he so painstakingly built around his heart beginning to crumble. He wills them to build back up, but something about Giyuu’s presence is keeping him from succeeding.
The worst thing is, he’s not sure he hates it.