Chapter Text
It had only been a single, solemn moment of silence before everything cut to abyss. Just a stammer dripping off his lips, a vile poison tainted with the few wrong words before a gust of air came hurling, hunting, seething to —
The screams. It’s hard to remember if they came before or after the darkness had succumbed his world. Curdled wails and panicked shouts melted along with the pain oozing like honey from his eyes, the trickle of a warm, metallic fluid dribbling down his chin as a gentle waterfall. All of the tension keeping his knees afloat gave out in a piercing moment, softening to jelly and collapsing to the cold, hardwood floors. Blood coated his bitten tongue, seeping down his throat from his agape, quivering lips. Genya only then came to realize that he had been the one screaming.
Fuzzy blurs of cries mixed and melted together, a soft hum of white noise pitching and slamming into his eardrums right as two familiar, yet, trembling hands scooped his pathetic body off the dusty floorboards. A single voice cut through the silence, only conjoined with a chorus of a running faster than Genya had ever known.
”Don’t worry, little brother. Nemi is going to make it all better.”
➹ ——————- ➷
A mere few days had gone by since Genya regained consciousness, tortured by the horrified gasps and screams of terror at his single, silent darkness. Cacophonies of the moment danced across every turmoil in taunting silhouettes, the moment he blinked open to nothing, every second he had to reawaken again and again, each time expectant to open his eyes to the sweet smell of his brother’s cooking; the gentle hums of Koto napping on his chest; the whisk of the door sliding open to reveal the lovely, rare sight of their mother returning home from work. But it never came, and he had to realize all over again that it was gone. His vision was gone. He couldn’t see.
He could only remember the screams, the door slamming open, the hands around his neck, pulling him close and whispering sweet nothings into his ear that sounded so close yet felt so far away.
“Shhh.. I’m so glad you’re awake, Genya.. you’re healing well, it’ll all be better soon. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
The words lingering off Genya’s tongue dropped to the floor, his lips drying numb and tuning every mutter and mumble to static. His brother was talking about him, to him. Sanemi’s fingers brushed through his dark threads of hair, breath so light and serene, tone so soft and loving. Each minimal word that cut through the static made less sense than the last.
..protect you..
..your own good..
..I’m here..
..you’re safe..
..better this way..
This is important. A waterfall of words Genya’s been dreaming to sail under since the day the dam came crashing down. Each living breath he cast in devotion to sit side by side with him: the gust of wind pushing him to live even one day longer. Yet, now, the brother he’s loved, eaten with, grown with..
Genya can’t see him.
He isn’t there.
➹ ——————- ➷
It’s for certain Sanemi’s Hashira training responsibilities are being neglected. The brutal, limitless hours of broken bone after beating went first hand with the raven haired slayer. Of the schedule he picked up from the days he spent training there himself, it’s clearly been torn to shreds. The door creaks open numerous times per day when his brother should be off training, instead using his fists to gently knock on the wood, signifying his arrival. This time proves no different.
“I’ve brought your pain killers.”
The raspy voice draws nearer, occupying a soft hum of buzzing chatter from the outdoors vicinity of the butterfly mansion. Sounds that would’ve been flicked off and ignored are now the only reliance Genya can leech onto of any basic comprehension of what lies outside his husk of a hospital ward. If there’s birds singing their sweet symphonies, it’s morning, if there’s quick moving feet through the hallways, and shouts from the outdoors, it’s noon, buzzing cicadas and cricket chirps mean night.
At every other stay he’s inhabited at this mansion, the itchy bedding made him churn, the constant ruckus thumping in his ears provoked headaches, the awful smell of hospice made him feel ill.
Now, he grips his bedsheets anxiously, opening his mouth as he’s done three times a day for a week, and swallowing the pill dry. Genya’s ears pick up on a mumbled hum of approval, as well as what he could only assume to be.. rustling?
For all he knows, this could be dangerous.
but how would he know? He possesses the same self preservation as an infant. An infant to be protected, babied, and cared dor. A useless, mindless, weak, breathless infant. Someone could pull a sword on him and he’d cock his head obliviously. He’s useless. Completely useless.
”I’m going to brush your hair, okay? It’s gotten a bit messy. I’m also going to fix your sheets, and replace your bandages, just be prepared to be handled a bit. I’ll be gentle. Is that okay?”
A beat of nothing passes. The only recognition that Sanemi atunes to his silence is the eventual hand holding up a chunk of Genya’s hair, carefully stringing a brush that cuts through his knots, pulling oh so gently and softening out the damaged, neglected strands.
The pillar’s fingers glide across his hair with the work of a seamstress, separating sections to corse through with the brush, using nothing less than the upmost care and delicacy. A vivid memory sits timidly in the back corners of Genya’s mind. His brother, using those same fingers to wipe soot and muck off of Genya’s pudgy cheeks The same fingers that jammed right through Genya’s eye sockets and tore out any slim chance of bringing worth to his meaningless waste of a corpse. Any hopes of protecting those he cares for, defeating the one that ripped his beloved family away in cold blood, gunned away in an instant.
Why are you doing this? Genya ponders. I thought I wasn’t your brother. Gentle fumbling follows up with what he could only assume to be the bandages over his wounds. Even when the knot unfurls and the cloth is stripped off, the same, single darkness only seems to cave in closer.
“Sorry I can’t come around more often, Genya. I’m obligated to train the weaker runts of the Corps so they’re fit enough to handle Himejima.”
Genya’s shoulders tense, unease dripping down his throat from the sweet-hearted tone lingering off Sanemi’s voice. He swallows, the qualm mired deep in his stomach churned, fingers curling around the only source of nearby comfort, his fluffed pillow. The violent tempest previously roiled by a rage Genya knew not of understanding, now delicately cleaned his stinging wound and replaced it with a fresh bandage, following with a benign ‘is this good?’.
Normally, this is when he’d leave. When Genya would breathe out a sigh of relief and curl back into his bedsheets. Yet, an unprecedented chuckle vomited off of the Wind Pillar’s tongue, his sound drawing nearer, the bed sinking in to signify he had sat down.
“My main priority in training falls on after dusk. A few of us Hashira gather to spar, trading tips and building stamina to prepare for what’s next. If Im going to rid this world of demons for you, working towards mark condition comes above training demon-fodder.”
Genya doesn’t stop to question the supposed mark condition. In fact, none of the words off his brother’s tongue sound sensical. Why is he trying to talk so normally?
“But the runts aren’t too pesty. The some are fun to mess with.” Sanemi chuckled, hands reaching up to fluff Genya’s pillow once more.
Stop it. Why are you trying to joke?
“Kocho says your eyes should be healed soon. After that, I’ll bring you to my estate. You can stay there, it’s safe. How does that sound, little brother?”
Didn’t you just tell me you didn’t care? That I’m not your brother? Didn’t you just charge at me, seething with hatred and contempt — and pluck my eyes from their sockets?
A light pat hits his head, Genya flinches.
What are you doing? He wants to shout. How can you suddenly decide you love me again?
A bead of silence strings across the room, Genya’s eyebrows knit in discomfort, the inability to see Sanemi’s expression limiting his comprehension to a feeble child. Is this deception? Is he faced with a mere semblance? His dear older brother, his attacker, now his caretaker—
Weren’t you mad at me? I said something horrible to you. I cut you down when you needed me most. Left you with those awful words. How can you switch so quickly? How can you sit here, tending to my wounds, brushing my hair, replacing my bandages.. did it all not even matter? Was this my fair punishment? Is everything.. okay now? How? How am I forgiven so—
The image assaults his mind, the streak of blood before a world of darkness, permenant darkness, inifinite darkness. His body remembers the pain, the anguish, the fear coursing through every nerve in his body, the trickles of blood pooling out from his sockets.
Forgiveness, to explain, to apologize, to be brothers again— isn’t this all he’s ever wanted?
Then.. why does his older brother seem so.. scary?
Sanemi’s hand draws back at Genya’s recoil, the weight pressing down on the bed slowly lifting off and accompanied by light steps. Genya releases a nervous breath, anxiety flicking his thumb and pointer finger together, head pointed down towards the bed as if where he was looking even mattered.
”.. I’ll leave you be. It’s probably been a stressful day for you. I’ll talk to Kocho about your speech issues, I’ll fix everything. I promise.”
There it is again. Another promise.
Genya can’t even tell if his brother speaks truth. Everything has morphed into a garbled mess.. is Genya so stupid now that he can’t even make sense of the Nemi’ he knew so well?
The footsteps draw farther, and the pitched creak of a door makes Genya jump. It pulls shut, yet the click never comes. For just a moment, he’s convinced Sanemi simply didn’t bother to shut the door. What’s it matter anyway? In a room encased with dead silence, he’s alone, no matter how many pairs of eyes bore into his pathetic stature.
“I’ll see you tomorrow Genya,” The pillar begins, following with a gentle “I love you.”
Genya’s lips snap shut, the chorus of lines he’s rehearsed countless times on long, tedious missions in preparation of this moment suddenly going blank.
He doesn’t have a reply.
He can’t say it back.
Then, the door clicks shut.
➹ ——————- ➷
Another Corps member smashes to the ground in a violent crash, hand clutched over their chest like a sickly maiden heaving for air. The Wind Pillar’s eyes bat to another, legs wobbling and defenses unpolished as he charges forward, no match for Sanemi’s involuntary reflexes. The boy was knocked to the floor in an instant, the wind knocked out of him from a single jab to the gut.
Normally, Sanemi wouldn’t instruct the feeble runts to all jump on him and peck their swords like headless chickens, yet not a single other idea bubbled up that would suffice to fulfill his training requirements, as well as detach his conscious to dwell in thought.
Genya..
Sanemi’s heart churns in his stomach, wooden sword smacking roughly against the bicep of a scrawny trainee. A spiky haired boy halts in his drive towards the Hashira, scrambling to his friend and shouting a pitchy Higuchi! in worry. Sanemi bites back a growl, sending the boy flying with a strong winded attack. He doesn’t waste another moment, eyes darting to the next sucker with awful swordsmanship.
”.. but.. I even ate demons!”
His stance stiffens, nearly allowing one of the many swords swinging aimlessly to pierce Sanemi’s defenses. His faltering composure snaps back in an instant, hastily sweeping the feet off of the two nearest soldiers to get back some credit.
The discussion between himself and Kocho a few days prior had unleashed a beehive of untamed, spiraling emotions in the Wind Pillar. Her forlorn expression remains commiserate, lips twisted into a frown as she displays the gruesome details as best she could.
His little brother had been consuming demon flesh to make up for the lack of a breathing technique.
Left with hardly any time to process those words, she had continued; speaking of his inconsistent, unhealthy eating habits; the time he went rogue, Himejima having to restrain him; yet the worst was her expressing genuine bewilderment when Genya’s wounds didn’t regenerate.
”My brother isn’t a demon,” he had said. “Why in the hell would he regenerate?”
Kocho curled in on herself, a vulnerable sight Sanemi had only seen predating the death of her elder sister.
“I’m afraid that if he consumes even a little bit more, he’d become one.”
Sanemi seethes, tossing his wooden sword aside and opting to punch a corps member right in their gut. The boy wretches, grasping his chest in pain as numerous other pests flock to his side.
My brother isn’t a demon, he mumbles under his breath, catching the attention of a few of the sparring Corps members, whose faces contort to a grimace. He promptly hits them twice as hard.
No, this is fine. He won’t be fighting anymore. It won’t happen, he’ll never consume any demon flesh again. He won’t turn into one of those things.
A kick to one’s chest.
It’s better this way. Genya can learn to live with his blindness, atleast he’s safe. That’s all that matters. I’ll make sure he’s happy.
Another one swept to come crashing on the ground.
I’ll give him all the love we’ve missed out on. I don’t need to push him away anymore. He’s in no more danger. My poor baby brother, we’ll make up for all the lost time.
Smashing his elbow down onto a Corps member’s nose, the crack of shattered bones paints color back to his world, the setting sun catching his eye, a lovely mix of luscious reds and pretty pinks melting across the sky. That’s right, it’s time to see his little brother.
Sanemi’s eyes flicker to his discarded training sword, kicking it off from the floor with his foot and snatching it midair. His grip nearly splinters the frail wood. The trainees, beading up at him like abused puppies are only left with a simple “Tomorrow, 9AM,” before the Hashira fades into the wind.
➹ ——————- ➷
By the time Sanemi cracks open the door ajar, his little brother is already nestled comfortably into the cocoon of his bedsheets. His chest rises and falls like a boat on gentle waves, a soft hum of a snore coursing gently across the air. Genya’s hair is sprawled wildly across his face, bits and pieces sticking up and out of place, his clothes jagged and unorganized despite having been carefully tended to mere hours ago. The older brother can’t help but smile, slowly breezing himself into the room with light, quiet steps. He fills the chair beside Genya’s bed, head rested in his palms.
“You’ve gotten so big.” He mumbles, finger brushing a strand from Genya’s face to tuck behind his ear. “Just look at you. If only mom could see this.” A small choke hitched Sanemi’s voice, eyes clouded with a faded vision in the mist of a short, stubby little brother beading up at him with his goofy, wide smile.
”Nemi!”
Genya..
Not a moment goes by where he isn’t filled with worry, dreading a possible infection in Genya’s wounds, itching with uncertainty if the pain killers are even working— yet the thing that strains him the most is Genya’s sudden mutism. The boy’s voice has gone silent, quiet to Sanemi’s ears. He makes grunts, gasps, hums, but no utterance of words, no response, nothing but nods or shakes of the head. Could Sanemi have hit something important? A nerve, maybe? Kocho confirmed that no other damage was done, after scolding him profusely for his actions. Well, far more than simply scolding. She was livid.
Why won’t Genya speak to him?
Sanemi slouches in his chair, eyes trained on Genya’s stomach to ensure comfortable breathing.
He wanted to talk with me so bad, and now he can’t even muster a single sentence?
Maybe tomorrow will be different. He’ll come around soon, we’ll be brothers again.
The pillar blinked his bleary eyes, strained from the sleepless nights training with Obanai and Muichiro after dusk. When was the last time he’s slept comfortably? Not only that, in the same room as his precious little brother?
You’re safe now.
This is better.
You won’t consume any more demons.
You won’t see another ever again.
Nemi is here to make it better.
Nemi will keep you safe.
Nemi will make sure you’re happy.
Nemi will.. make up for all the lost .. lost time.
Nemi will..
will..
Sanemi’s eyelids fall shut, and the world goes dark.