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The yukata lays heavy in Sanemi’s hold.
Legs tremble from the overbaring weight, hardly able to funnel support for his own knees to prevent himself from crashing to the ground and weeping out all the tears held back by a pitifully constructed dam. Yet, his feet stay planted in the same spot he’s been in for far too many hours. Tomioka wished him a solemn farewell not too long ago, as did all the other attendees when they parted from the tombstone. Many stayed as long as they could, standing behind the Wind Pillar to watch him twitch and grieve in silence, his words too heartfelt to vocalize. It didn’t take long for the guests to realize he had lied— Realize he wasn’t going to bury the yukata as he had promised. The grave was dug, the tombstone was set, all that was left to do was bury what was left and put Genya to rest. Yet Sanemi held on, selfishly clutching the fabric in his fist.
I got you..
The soft hum of the evening breeze blew past, scattering an array of petals off their branches and gliding them down to glisten just beside the hole. Six feet down, nearly just as deep as Genya had been tall. He should’ve grown taller, taller than Sanemi could ever have imagined his baby brother reaching. Not too long ago did he have to bend down to speak with him, or to scold him, or just to tell him how much he loved him.
Sanemi’s heart churned. This couldn’t be all that was left of his precious baby brother. His pride, his joy, the sole reason he kept suffering through every scar he inflicted on himself to slaughter demon after demon. Countless times had Tomioka sat him down, telling him to cherish the memories, remember all the beautiful times when they were younger, when things were okay.
But remembering him wouldn’t bring him back. How long would it be until Sanemi couldn’t see his smile? Went deaf to his laughter? Sanemi didnt want memories.
All he wanted was Genya. His baby brother. Not just the image in his head getting blurrier by each passing day. How long would it be until it’s all gone? Until this yukata is the only thing left? Sanemi has four years left. What about when he’s gone? Will Genya’s memory diminish with him? Will there be nothing of his precious little brother?
The pillar let out a hefty grunt, clenching his fist around the cloth, glaring down at the pit just a few steps in front of his feet. He couldn’t bury it. He couldn’t. Then Genya would think Sanemi’s letting him go. He can’t. He’d never let Genya go. Would it be so bad if he just sits here with him? Resting beside the empty grave until he’s buried alongside it? No. They wouldn’t let him. Tomioka and Uzui would drag him off, babbling their nonsense about letting go of lost loved ones and ‘living for them’.
They don’t understand, his stomach sharply burns. They could never understand.
Tears sting at the Hashira’s eyes like acid, dripping down his chin and to his chest, reminding him of the weight making him tremble. He has to bury it. He must. Genya deserves a burial.. Throw it in. Throw it in! Sanemi promised everyone — he promised himself that he’d be able to do it! He was able to bury all of his other little siblings, why is this so much harder!? God damn it. He can’t do this. He can’t bury the last piece of his family into the dirt.
Gripping the yukata, Sanemi’s breath hitches, his feet lifting off of it’s shackles and—
“Do you think he’s watching us right now?”
—Kamado?
Sanemi was certain everyone else had already left. This brat’s just been here? Standing silent as a mouse, watching Sanemi grieve? Why? All of the other young pests had left, the Ubuyashikis left, Uzui, Tomioka, why is Kamado still here?
The Hashira’s head snaps back with a grimace, a nasty growl coming off his lip. “Go away.” He spits out, staring down at the redhead the same way he did to his precious brother months prior.
To his surprise, the kid stared back, feet planted into the dirt unwaveringly. In their previous meetings, Kamado always carried this driven look in his eye. Determined, passionate, strong. Yet, he appears as a weak puppy before the Wind Pillar now, his body scrunched in on itself, eye bags drooping down his face, hands hugging himself together as if he’d fall apart. It’s startling, enough to catch Sanemi off guard.
Finally, Tanjiro speaks.
“No. I won’t go away.”
The glint in his eye sparks for a moment, but blows out just as quickly. No? Hell does he mean no? Something flares in Sanemi’s gut, eager to injure the kid back into months of recovery, but deducts that here of all places was not somewhere to cause a scene.
“I won’t tell you again. Go.”
Sanemi snarled, his indignation fuming as the redhead stood planted. The last real time they spoke, Kamado was fully recovered, strong, able to stop one of his punches — now he’s weak, half blind, and his arm sits in a splint. Strangely, it’s far more unnerving and intimidating.
“I won’t. I’m here for Genya-“
”Genya’s not here.”
The words spill out before Sanemi can plug his mouth, and he doesn’t miss the way the boy flinches back, eyes glossy with unshed tears. Still, he tentatively moves closer, taking light steps as if Sanemi is an unpredictable, rabid beast. Truthfully, he’s not far from. Tanjiro only stops when he’s standing a few inches behind.
“That’s not true. His scent lingers, I’m sure he’s watching us.”
”You’re smelling the damn cloth.” Sanemi grumbles and raises the yukata, ignoring the boy’s stern expression. A pitiful stare burns itself into Sanemi’s skull, leaving a nasty stain.
“I mean spiritually, you know? I can still smell my family sometimes. If I listen close enough, I can pick up my little siblings’ laughs.”
The comment makes Sanemi stammer, the sentiment hitting a bit closer than he would’ve liked. Sanemi doesn’t have super smell, neither does he possess advanced hearing — yet not a moment has gone by that he isn’t haunted by giggles of his lost siblings. They taunt him, mock him, torture him over what he couldn’t save. To think this brat hears it as well..
“Good for you.”
Tanjiro just hums in response, eyes landing on Genya’s tombstone, covered with beautiful daisies, roses, lilies.. Tanjiro hopes he can plant a bonsai here soon. Genya’d like that, he thinks with a small smile. Though, something is..
He stares down at the empty pit.
..missing.
“Are you going to bury his yukata?”
”No.” Sanemi spits quickly despite not even being sure himself. Instinctually, his grip tightens on the cloth, a fear burning deep inside that it’ll ripped away from his grasp if he doesn’t hold on close enough. Kamado’s going to take it, he tells himself.
A few beats of silence pass before he hears the boy slump on the ground, sitting right beside the open pit. Tanjiro pats the space next to him, mumbling a small “Sit.”
Sanemi opens his mouth to protest, to shout, to scold, to throw a nasty comment back at the brat for daring to bark an order at him, yet, the face he’s met with reminds him all to well of an old one. Masachika often wore that same solemn stare when Sanemi’d tell him of his detachment from Genya. He’d frown, try to reason with Sanemi’s hurricane of violent emotions, before resigning with that same look Kamado wore now.
Pitiful, yet still kind.
Sanemi hated it. He hated the similarities they shared. Hated the way he grunted and reluctantly sat down beside the younger slayer, clutching the yukata in his lap.
“Why wouldn’t you leave.” Sanemi snaps, unabashed to taming his own tongue. In his peripheral vision, he catches a half-hearted smile on the other boy’s face. It’s oddly sad, feeble, unlike the shit-eating grin he wore in other encounters.
“I told you. I’m here for Genya. I’m not leaving until I feel ready, until I’ve spent enough time with him. As much as I respect you as his older brother, I won’t leave even if you ask.”
The pillar gulped back a plethora of coarse words. Normally he’d sneer, bicker with the other kid for disregarding his demands, yet he can’t help but honor the passion to sit by Genya’s side.
Genya had good friends.
They were all here, crying for him, offering gifts to him.. it’s nice to know his brother was being taken care of, even when Sanemi couldn’t.
no, Sanemi could’ve. He had just refused to.
He tuned into the sound of a couple sniffs, and soon, he realizes he’s been spoken to.
“How are you taking it?”
What a stupid fucking question. He deadpans, how am I taking it? My brother is dead. My family is dead. Everyone I’ve ever felt close to is dead.
You wouldn’t understand.
Before he can smack this kid across the head, his fingers grip the yukata. Genya wouldn’t want them to argue. Sanemi has to respect that.
Instead, he mutters a response, more personal than he intended.
“I should’ve done more to spend time with him. I didn’t realize we had such little time.”
His tone flattens, speaking the same way you’d expect of a slab of plastic, shielding the void interior. It brings Tanjiro back to the chill moments after he looked inside his former home, sucking in his tears, holding his gasps and sobs all in favor of making it to the next moment without breaking down in the deep snow. Shinazugawa’s scent speaks everything his words can’t. The rotten stench of grief and suffering staggers Tanjiro’s breath, stinging tears in his eyes that he quickly blinks away.
“We’ll see him soon. He’s waiting to see you again, I’m sure of it.”
Agh. Comforting isn’t Tanjiro’s strong suit. He already messed up enough on the bridge with Tomioka— why couldn’t he inherit the serenity Nezuko has!
“I don’t see a reason he’d wait for me.”
Tanjiro perks up, so thrilled at getting a response he almost forgets to process it. Shinazugawa is indulging in a conversation? That’s great! The boy’s internal voice squeals, barely clearing his throat and regaining the minimal composure he hung on to. The yukata just a few inches away remains prominent in his sight, sinking his heart just as quickly as it had sang.
“You have no idea how much you mattered to him, do you?”
Tanjiro’s memory flashes to the days in Himejima’s training, all the dinners he shared with Genya. Not once did the raven ever speak ill of his older brother, only vocalizing his wishes to reconnect and apologize for the events of the past. The beautiful image of Genya’s bright smile after Tanjiro told him of Sanemi’s scent of contentment and love for his younger brother has remained embedded in his mind since, lulling him to sleep on the rough nights.
”What?”
Sanemi’s head turns, his voice crumbling weaker than he’d ever allow. This is not a time to be weak. Not here. Not in front of him. Is this a nab of deception? Show up looking shattered and heartbroken and lure Sanemi out of his shell? Fuck. He doesn’t care. Any opportunity to leech onto a memory of his dear baby brother deserves weakness. It wouldn’t take much to hang above his head to make him grovel on his knees. How far he’s fallen.
“He always wanted to reconnect, to become brothers again. Every time we shared a meal together your name was always on his tongue. So much so that Inosuke complained about it.”
Tanjiro forced a laugh, a sorrowful chuckle coming off his lips. It was such a lovely memory, yet now, it only brought pain. What he’d give for one more chat, one more hug, one more chance to hold his hand, one more shy I love you that Genya was hardly able to muster out.
The pillar only stared back, eyes widened further enough that Tanjiro nearly adverted his gaze. He took a subtle sniff, suppressing a grimace from the thick scent baring too many emotions to pick out.
“I’m sure he did,” Sanemi finally sighs. “He cares for people. Even those who don’t deserve it. I got lucky, to have such a kind younger brother.”
“What was he like as a kid?” Tanjiro speaks before he can stop himself, his curiosity getting ahead of his curtesy. Kamado! Don’t ask something like that now! What is wrong with you!
Yet, the scent loosens, a sweet smell pigmenting through the musk.
“An idiot. He’d always play up strong in front of everyone, yet once he got out of their view he’d cry to me like a baby.” for a moment, Tanjiro nearly swears he can hear a soft chuckle. “He helped as much as he could, even promised with me to be a father figure to our younger siblings.”
Tanjiro hugged himself closer, eyes focused on the yukata. As a child, he was nurtured to maintain eye contact, but right now, it appeared the hardest thing he could possibly muster.
“That sounds like him. At first, he always came off so burly and intimidating— but he’s.. sweet, shy. He’s a wonderful person.. it’s no wonder I had to stand up for him.”
For a moment, Sanemi glances over at the mention. Kamado’s eyes hold a blithe tone towards his own words, not necessarily trying to bite at Sanemi’s blunt attack on his brother all those months ago. In fact, Tanjiro hasn’t nagged him at all for being a bare-bones shitty brother.
“Thank you, for that.” Tanjiro snaps his head up to face the Hashira, startled by the tender recognition he’s given. “You protected him. I tried to hurt him, I was a shitty brother-“
”No.” Tanjiro interjects. “I don’t want to hear that. We’re here for Genya, not self groveling. You know he’d hate to hear you say that. You made him very happy, that’s what matters now.”
Tanjiro placed his hand on the yukata, feeling a subtle flinch from the older boy, before softly easing up. Their hands rested on the cloth for a few moments, breaths staggering. Sighing, Tanjiro spoke.
“I’ve thought about my last moment with him a lot. Ever since I woke up. I wished him well, hugged him goodbye, and just.. walked off. I never imagined—“ Tanjiro paused to catch his breath. “I never imagined it would be my last time seeing him. I-I didn’t get to say goodbye, or— or tell him how much I .. cared about him.” Tanjiro stammered, purposefully leaving out minor details. Perhaps another time he could lay it on the pillar that he dated his younger brother, just.. not now. Definitely not now.
Sanemi stared down, finally taking in the younger slayer at close view. Eyes sunken in from lack of sleep, lids puffy from crying, and hair ruffled from numerous tangles. Shattered, he thought. It bothered the Hashira for someone else to even touch Genya’s yukata, but Tanjiro held it so gently, talked of his brother so fondly. This was ..okay. He misses him too.
Tanjiro sniffs back a sob, exhaling to prevent any tears from seeping its way out. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get emotional.” He brushes a stray hair from out of his face, tucking it behind his ear and slumping his shoulders. Sanemi sits beside in silence for a few beats, carefully observing the kid next to him. Of course he hasn’t forgotten all the moments he’s been pissed off by this brat, rather it be physical fighting or bickering. Though, Sanemi also isn’t a stranger to himself as the root. Kamado always fought for what he saw as right, saved lives during that final battle, and cared for Genya deeper than Sanemi allowed himself.
Kamado’s a good kid, he sighs, looking down at the trembling boy. Tentatively, Sanemi puts an arm around his back, gently tugging him in.
“It’s okay. You can cry for him. There’s no point in trying to remain strong or push others away. Let yourself grieve.” Before Sanemi can realize, he’s spitting out the advice he cruelly ignored from Tomioka. Since he had woken up, Sanemi lashed out at anyone who tried to care for him, any Kakushi that tried to serve him food to advance his recovery. All the tears he held in sitting in that hospital bed, they needed to come out. Genya deserved the tears of those who loved him.
Promptly, Sanemi’s eyes stung. A weight leaned against his shoulder, quivering beneath his fingertips as their eyes remained on the yukata. Their last piece of Genya.
“I’m..” Tanjiro began. “I can’t sit here and comfort everyone else that’s hurting when I can’t even comfort myself. I miss him so much I can’t even think—“
Sanemi gently rubs his hand across the boy’s back, placing the yukata in Tanjiro’s lap. Parting with it struck a cord in his heart, but the glimmer of joy that sparked in Kamado’s was worth every second without it. Tanjiro’s lips parted, letting out a tearful gasp before pulling it close to his chest.
“This wasn’t suppose to happen.. w-we promised each other that we’d get out of this and live together..” Tanjiro choked. “I miss him.. I miss him so much— it wasn’t suppose to be like this.. he could’ve lived- he should’ve— this wasn’t suppose to happen!“ Tears are streaming down his stained cheeks before he can hold them in. Every pent up emotion he’s sucked in since that crow announced Genya’s falling to Upper Moon One falls out all at once. Shifting his head to burry in Sanemi’s shoulder, he wails. He cries. He sobs for his lost love. “He promised me he’d live! He promised me! H-how could he leave me? It’s not— it’s not fair!”
Sanemi gently pets the boy’s head, allowing himself, just this once, to be vulnerable. His own tears fall, plopping right onto the redhead’s damaged haori. Tanjiro’s hysterics halt for just a second, his head raising up to stare bewildered at the sight.
He melts just as fast, placing the yukata between them as an offering. Two hands rest on the fabric, relishing in the memories they shared with the boy who wore it.
“I miss him too. I’m sure he cared for you very much, Kamado.” The pillar murmured, tuning into the gentle hum of the afternoon breeze.
Tanjiro turns his head over, staring back down at the yukata, then at Sanemi. Words are shared without an utterance. Tentatively, Sanemi smiled down at the cloth in his hand, mummering a soft goodbye, Genya, and gives the cloth a careful kiss, allowing Tanjiro to do the same. He doesn’t hear the words from the younger boy’s lips, only the gentle goodbye, before tossing it into the pit.
It’s buried with love soon after, sealing the deep hole burned in their hearts with two calloused sets of hands. A single rose petal drifts through the evening air, resting right atop the dirt pile. It sits, and it stays.
”Do you think he’s watching us?” Tanjiro’s trembling voice parts up, his lip quivering as he stands just in front of the grave. Sanemi’s arm rests over his shoulder, just as he did with his baby brother when they were smaller. “I’m sure he is. I can feel him, he’s here.”
The wind blows past, and two beautiful rose petals plant on the boy’s heads, tangling up in their hair. Neither bother to reach up and pluck it out, too busy enveloped in the past memories to care.
“I love you, Genya.” Tanjiro mumbles beneath his breath, a single tear falling out of his right eye and down his cheek. Sanemi pulls him closer as he sun begins to set over the horizon. The sky’s array of colors melt into each other, a beautiful canvas painting the clouds. “Take care. I’ll be there for you soon.”
Epilogue
As pages on calenders are torn off, a single cloth remains buried beneath the earth. Each day, dozens of gifts are brought, songs are sang, memories and stories are shared just six feet above. It’s often a cheery voice, sometimes a gruffy one, but more frequent than not, the two join together. They share laughs, tears, and warm embraces in their grief, and yukata remains, but soon, the gruffy voice goes silent. The cheery voice isn’t so cheery, and instead of speaking to one, it talks to two. To the cloth, and to a grave beside it.
I can’t wait to see you again, Genya. Are you and Sanemi doing well up there? I love you so much. I’ll join you soon, I promise.
It isn’t long before the space outside the grave goes deaf. Until the rose petals of the trees fall onto three.
And in the sky, two figures dance through the stars together, conversing in a beautiful, tearful reunion.