Chapter Text
Genya woke up.
He was not expecting to.
The last he had known was the desperate grip of his sword, his own shallow breathing, the deep red of the kind of blood that only pulses from a fatal wound.
Someone was breathing in the same room he was stretched out in, which was even more bewildering.
Genya opened his eyes to a wooden ceiling that offered no further clues as to his location. Pale sunlight gave the sense that it was morning, although he could not have said which morning. Hadn’t it been night just moments before? Had dawn come so soon? Or had it been days? He had been in that situation before, so injured that he had simply lost time. Being as young as he was, time was something which he could afford to lose.
The blanket on top of him must have been extraordinarily heavy because he couldn’t move his body at all.
He turned his head slowly, ignoring the pulsating of the veins in his neck, to find the source of the breathing.
Muichirou lay just several feet away on a futon. He was also covered over by blankets. His large eyes were closed, and his breath whistled with each inhalation.
Oh. So, they had both made it, somehow.
Genya was glad. His mind felt foggy, losing focus, but he had the sense that had Muichirou not been there it would have meant bad things.
He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.
*
The next time Genya awoke everything was a little bit clearer. The chattering of the three young girls who stole in and out of the room where he lay helped somewhat: It was a reminder that this was real, that he was no longer just drifting in waves of silence.
Fighting against his drooping eyelids, Genya choked out; “Where am I?”
He wanted to ask where Sanemi was, where Tanjirou and the others were, but that question seemed like a good place to begin.
The girl closest to him startled and nearly dropped the half-empty glass she had in her hand. She had taken it from Muichirou’s side, he noted: Did that mean Muichirou had woken and drank from it?
“Oh! You’re awake! Your brother will be so glad to hear it!”
Well, that answered one of his questions- but not the one he had asked.
Clearing his parched throat, eyes still trained on the glass, Genya repeated; “Where am I?”
“You’re at the Butterfly estate”, one of the other girls spoke up from where she was pulling the curtains apart. Hadn’t those been open before? Was it the next morning already? Time was simply slipping away from him. “You were taken here after Himejima and Sanemi got to you.”
Genya pushed his palms flat against the futon. The fabric of it felt strangely distant, as though he wasn’t touching it at all. Two attempts were made at pushing himself up before he flopped down in defeat, cringing in pain. His breath came in short gulps while beads of sweat began to work their way down the contours of his face. His ribs felt as though they had been crushed, muscle spasming and bone stabbing. Still, he supposed a fist or the butt-end of a sword was still better than a blade.
A blade. Slicing down through the air towards him.
He drew his hands up in front of him. They were bandaged. No wonder everything felt so muted.
Haltingly, he raised the blanket, afraid of what he would find underneath.
His chest was bare. Well, it would have been if not for the bandages swaddled about his midsection. Maybe it was more than just crushing blows that had landed against his ribs, although Genya couldn’t recall being stabbed at all.
Not that he could recall very much.
Genya could remember darkness. He remembered feeling so afraid that he thought he might vomit. He remembered Muichirou screaming his name, the dull flashes of pain which he barely felt through his fear.
He looked to Muichirou again, allowing his arms to drop and rest. Soft footsteps, fluttering like the wings of an insect, let him know that the girls were hurrying from the room.
The Hashira was sleeping, apparently peacefully. Genya couldn’t see his body at all, covered over by a patterned yellow quilt. He wondered whether it was in a shape as bad as his own one was, or whether he had been spared the worst of Kokushibou’s onslaught. In any case, his face was serene and peaceful. His hair looked somewhat tangled but it was spread about him like a thick curtain, the light blue ends dusting the wooden floor over the edge of the futon.
Genya’s eyes flickered back to Muichirou’s face. A pale moon caught in the pale sunlight.
More memories came to him, unbidden this time: Falling to the ground as the demon stalked towards him, unable to move in his panic other than to kick at the ground and push himself away, nowhere near fast enough. Pain so fierce that the world swam in a haze about him. And then Muichirou, flying quick and graceful, sword drawn, hair fanning his half-crouched form.
The demon had flung Muichirou aside but the mist Hashira got up again, positioned himself over Genya in what felt like no time at all since he had been knocked away. Genya rolled onto his back, gripping his sword so tightly the bones in his hand cracked, seeing his own blood pooling around him and feeling the wetness of it soaking his clothes to his skin, and then Muichirou was pressing against his ribs as he lay against him, shielding him, the pressure both painful and comforting.
There were things after that, too: Shadowy, shifting images. Had Muichirou lost a hand? And there had been somebody speaking to him, pleading with him, pleading with God...
Genya was pulled back to the present by more footsteps. Entering the room was a girl with a butterfly clip in her hair. He barely had time to recognize her as Kanao, the girl who had been in the final selection with him and Tanjirou and Zenitsu, before he laid eyes on the figure following her, and his heart caught in his throat.
Sanemi didn’t pause in his stride as he walked across the room and flung himself down on his knees by his brother’s side, gripping both of his shoulders.
“What the hell do you think you were doing? You could have died!”
“I was just… I was doing my job, brother. I wanted to help you.” Genya struggled to meet the intensity of his brother’s gaze, fearful of his wild eyes.
“You fucking idiot. The best way you could have helped me was keeping yourself safe.” Even though the voice was harsh, it was the same one that he could vaguely remember cutting through the darkness.
And then Sanemi drew him into a hug. Genya was confused. Was his brother not proud of him for what he had done to help?
More than that, the strength of Sanemi’s arms was rendering him breathless.
“Brother… Please…”
“Please don’t hold him so tightly. His ribs are broken”, Kanao, Genya’s savior, said.
Sanemi glared at the girl and she fell silent, lowering her head; not in an obedient manner, Genya thought, but in one that was reticent and withdrawn. Too tired to argue, perhaps. Surprisingly, Sanemi did as was requested, lowering his brother back to the futon. Genya continued to stare up at Sanemi with wide eyes.
“Sanemi. I’m so glad you’re okay.” Genya blinked as hot tears welled up in his eyes. “And I’m sorry if what I did put you in danger or burdened you.” His throat went hot and scratchy too, closing up. “I just wanted you to be proud.”
Sanemi shook his head viscously, hard enough that Genya wondered if his brother was trying to give himself a headache. Or maybe block out everything else that was going on. “I never wanted any of this for you. I wanted you to have a normal life, to get married and have kids.” He paused, looking at his hands resting in his lap. “And now I guess you can. Muzan is gone. We don’t have to live in fear anymore.”
Genya watched his brother without saying anything. This was the most Sanemi had said… Well, anything to him, for a very long time.
Eventually, Sanemi continued; “Your friend Tanjirou is the hero of the hour.”
“Yes. I hear he killed Muzan.”
“Oh, he had some help.”
Kanao reappeared by Genya’s side with a glass. Sanemi took it from her hands and held it so that Genya could drink. The cool of the water was so refreshing in his dessert of a throat.
“This girl helped, too.”
Kanao bowed respectfully to his brother. “Not just me. Our other friends. And the other Hashira.”
Sanemi nodded. “And we couldn’t have done it without you and Muichirou.”
Footsteps pounded outside. Kanao turned her head, almost as though they had called her, before standing and wandering away and outside the room.
“Your friends are waiting to come and visit you. You aren’t being allowed many visitors until you feel better”, explained Sanemi.
“Would you mind keeping it down a little?” The voice made them both jump, and when they looked over Muichirou was frowning at them, blinking rapidly. He was still pale, yet his irritated expression caused shadows to cut across his face where deep lines were drawn.
"Muichirou." A rare smile graced his brother's face. "How are you feeling?"
The frown deepened. "Tired."
"Then rest. I'll be leaving soon. I only stopped in because I heard my brother had awoken." Muichirou's eyes drifted across to Genya as Sanemi spoke, and he held the younger boy's gaze for a few seconds before looking away. "I- I suppose I had better thank you. For protecting my brother."
Muichirou nodded lazily.
When Genya continued to gape at the Hashira, Sanemi nudged him.
Swiftly Genya dipped his head. “Thank you- Muichirou”, he stuttered over the words.
The young boy shrugged and then winced at the pain the action caused. “I’m just glad everyone is alright.” He looked over to the door. “I can’t wait to see the others.” His eyes closed as he yawned, and he sunk back further down on his futon without opening them.
"Well, I'll leave you two for now." Sanemi stood, stretching. "I'll be back at lunch, though, so enjoy the peace while you still can. And I expect Aoi won't be able to keep your friends outside for much longer."
With one final glance at his brother, he left.
Genya tried to do as his brother had instructed, however, he soon found that he was unable to get back to sleep. Something was niggling at him, and he couldn’t tell whether it was the sudden clarity of his mind or his creeping awareness of his injuries, or perhaps the light now flooding the room. An increasing number of footsteps passed by the door, and he waited for the moment that somebody would burst in. Some of them, in their gait, were more familiar than others.
“That sounds like Tanjirou, doesn’t it?”
He had thought Muichirou had slipped back into unconsciousness. He had been so quiet.
“Yeah. Figures that idiot would be waiting to talk to us.”
Muichirou smiled a tiny smile. His voice was full of sleep as he replied. “That idiot defeated Muzan.”
Those words took a while to really sink in. Muzan was gone. The Twelve Kizuki were all gone. All of the pain and hatred and fear they caused in the world… That could all be healed now.
Genya whispered; “If Muzan is gone… What happens now? To us?”
Muichirou was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know. We wouldn’t really have a purpose anymore, would we?” He went silent again. “Do you think you’ll stay with your brother?”
“I’d like to.” If he would have Genya.
“He would probably like that.”
Genya didn’t respond to that. He was still trying to process the way Sanemi had acted toward him moments before: Was it just the thrill of victory? Or did he truly mean all he had said?
Warily, he questioned; “What about you?”
“I don’t know. I can spend time with my friends. I can be happy.”
With some effort, Genya half-turned on his side to look at Muichirou. The boy was smiling slightly to himself, eyes closed once more, and Genya couldn’t help smiling a little bit too.
He had time now. Time to make Sanemi love him again. Time to prove he was worth it. Time to get to know Tanjirou and Nezuko and Inosuke and Zenitsu and Kanao. Time to train with Himejima and Muichirou and the other Hashira who had survived.
As he followed Muichirou in drifting towards sleep, Genya thought of the people he cared for, and what the future may hold for them.