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The monastery is cloaked in darkness. There are whispers from the shadows, speaking words Rin can’t make sense of.
Just barely, Rin sees the walls surrounding him. He stands in a hallway, and at the end stands a figure he knows all too well. His heart leaps in his throat, forcing his legs into motion. Forward he walks, past shattered windows and over splintered floorboards, inching closer to the figure at the end of the hall.
The sky outside is black, as if the abyss had swallowed the Earth whole. Only the moon remains, full and bright, illuminating Father Fujimoto. His back is to Rin, unmoving even as Rin begins to cry his name.
The whispers grow steadily louder, and the coal tar demons Rin is accustomed to seeing now swarm his vision. Rin feels hands grip at him, cold and clawed, slowing him down. “Father!” Rin cries out, making use of his blue flame.
The hands vanish and the whispers are almost silent; Rin has to strain his ears to hear them now. He steps closer, before he’s frozen in place. It’s as if ice has seeped into his muscles, preventing him from moving.
Rin burns brighter, his flames climbing higher. It brightens the area around him significantly. For a moment, he wishes he hadn’t. Father Fujimoto is slow in turning around, breath rattling in his chest. Blood drips from him, soiling the floorboards.
“Father..!” Rin cries, tears blurring his vision. Father Fujimoto stands before him, fingers broken and bleeding from the eyes, the mouth-- it was the last day at the monastery all over again.
Then, slowly, all at once, with a yell so loud Rin would’ve flinched if he weren’t stuck in place, Father Fujimoto stabbed himself in the chest. He gaped at Rin for a moment before collapsing.
Rin choked on tears, tangled in covers and drenched in a cold sweat. The dorm was dark, yet Rin could see just fine. The nightmare had been different; that darkness there was all-consuming, pierced only by the moon and Rin’s flame.
He struggled for a moment to free himself from the sheets, falling to the ground with a loud thud. The wound left by Father Fujimoto’s passing opened up again, leaving Rin feeling weak all over again.
Powerless, weak, alone, scared-- he felt it all in this moment.
“Rin..?” a voice echoed from the darkness. Rin turned to Yukio’s bed, knowing he looked every bit a mess as he felt. His twin slipped from the covers, blindly grasping his nightstand for his glasses.
The room, Yukio noticed, was unusually dark. Oddly fitting, he then thought, for the bastard sons of Satan himself. Then, a flicker of blue guided his attention to the floor, on which Rin was sat.
Glasses securely on his face, Yukio sunk to sit beside Rin. The blue flames lit Rin’s face up just enough for Yukio to see his brother was hurting. Immediately, his arms closed around Rin, holding him close.
“I- I’m a failure,” Rin whispered, voice wet from crying, before hiding his face in Yukio’s shoulder. “I’m not even human, Yukio. Not really a demon, either.”
Despite being younger than Rin, Yukio always felt like the older sibling. Moments such as these, where Rin broke and crumpled under the weight of his responsibilities, were rare to witness. Rin had grown accustomed to freedom, while Yukio was already numb to pressure.
“Do I even count as your brother anymore?”
It’s been a rough few months since Rin awoke his demon power and started training to become an exorcist. Questioning what he really is, what he really counts as, is par for the course. He grew up believing he was human, and then--
Yukio runs his fingers through Rin’s hair. He’s shaking just as hard as Rin, holding each other as if terrified that letting go would mean they drifted apart, and lost their brother forever. “Of course you’re my brother, Rin. Don’t think like that.”
Yukio is crying, tears steadily falling down his cheeks. He sobs, and Rin sobs, and together it feels like they’re children again. Yukio suffers the burden of growing up too fast, working to protect Rin even when the world begins to collapse around them. Rin isn’t sure what to call himself, and the knowledge that he led to Father Fujimoto’s death eats away at him every day.
Eventually, they calm. Yukio slouches against Rin, just as Rin leans on Yukio. They have no tears left to cry, and all that’s left is a dull ache in their hearts and their eyelids heavy.
“You did everything you could.”
“You deserved a better childhood.”
They mutter at the same time, before quietly chuckling. Rin continues, “I know ya had a good childhood, but I mean, like.. one that wasn’t so stressful. You understand?” Yukio nods, because he does know what he means. “You’re strong, Rin. You tried to save him. I know he would be proud of you.”
Rin hums. Slowly, the blue flame that previously licked at Rin’s skin faded, and the moon shined softly into the room. White rays spilled across the floor, highlighting the covers pulled halfway off of Rin’s bed and the two brothers holding each other loosely.
They hold each other in silence, savouring the warmth.
“How long has it been since we last hugged..?” Yukio mumbles, yawning. His eyelids flutter closed. Rin shrugs. “A few years, maybe?” Rin then yawns also. “Mm.. wanna talk about it?”
Rin almost wants to ask Yukio what there is to talk about-- they just hadn’t hugged in a few years, no real reason to it-- before it dawned on him what he was really talking about.
“Just a bad dream. Freaked me out.”
Yukio nods. Silence falls over them once more until Yukio speaks up a few minutes later.
“I’m getting pins and needles in my legs. Can we get off the floor?”
Heaving in a great sigh, Rin pulls away from Yukio, offering out a hand once he’s stood. Yukio takes it, and Rin helps his twin stand. When Yukio begins to move away, headed to his bed, Rin grips his arm. Eyebrow raised, Yukio looks at his brother and patiently waits.
“Can you, like... I know we haven’t done that since we were kids, so I get it if you don’t want to, but..” Rin struggles before he huffs, clenching his free hand into a fist. “Sleepover in your bed?” Yukio suggests, with a smile. Rin nods, refusing to meet Yukio’s gaze.
Yukio laughs softly, nodding. “Sure. Let me grab my pillows.”
The next morning, Rin woke to Yukio laying at the other end of his bed, curled into a ball and snoring softly. Sunlight peeked through the curtains, promising warm temperatures and clear skies. He smiled; if Father Fujimoto saw them now, he would most definitely be proud.
Then, Kuro slaps a paw over his face, reminding Rin that he was on breakfast duty.