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For the next two weeks, Sanemi was scheduled for three, three routine check-ups. It was ludicrous to even think about let alone carry it through, but despite his reservations, the Wind Pillar was loathe to turn his back on Shinobu's orders. Not this time around. Not after Kanae.
So with a bitter heart and worry he refused to name resting on his mind on behalf of Kanae's little sister, Sanemi was on his way through the second floor of the Butterfly Estate for that exact check-up when he heard a commotion coming from one of the treatment rooms. He found himself pausing for some reason, even though it really was none of his business. Shouting and screaming was not out of place here with the amount of injuries Demon Slayers sustained. But still, his curiosity was piqued, and so, he glanced inside. The sight stopped him cold.
For on a single bed by the corner, barely visible through the masses of bodies surrounding him, lay Tomioka Giyu. Forehead covered with bloodied bandages, face pulled in a grimace that looked both pained yet confused, and legs kicking weakly every so often, almost as if trying to find purchase where there was none. Several Kakushi were holding him down. Talking to him in soft whispers, while trying not to hurt him as the Water Pillar did his utmost best to dislodge them and get away. There was a nasty looking cut running across his side Sanemi absentmindedly noted; eyes zeroing in on it the minute a short Kakushi moved out of his line of sight. It was a wound, the men and women surrounding the Hashira where currently trying to stitch up.
But Tomioka refused to cooperate. Trashing this way and that, his shaky voice finally making it to Sanemi's ears. Slurred from pain and medication, repeating the same question.
“My haori… where is it? My haori…”
The Kakushi obviously ignored this, their focus solely on stopping the bleeding but something about the pleading tone, unusual to hear from a Pillar let alone Tomioka Giyu of all people seemed to rattle something inside Sanemi.
His fists clenched involuntarily. He wasn't worried about Tomioka, the man did not deserve an ounce of his concern. No amount of Obanai turning crazy on him could ever convince him that the arrogant Water Pillar deserved a chance, but despite it all, seeing a fellow Hashira, even one he didn’t like, in such a state made something twist uncomfortably in his chest. It reminded him too much of Kanae, and the rawness of that loss. Thus he abruptly turned away, walking briskly down the hall, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling.
None of this mattered anyway, he quietly tried to reason with himself. Obanai was just getting to him. The other blabbing on about poor, innocent, misunderstood Giyu while annoying as fuck, shouldn't have gotten to him, but clearly it had buried under his skin while he wasn't looking. Because on any normal day, it wouldn't have mattered. It wouldn't have, but after Kanae's passing and Obanai's sudden change in tune.... This wasn't his real feelings speaking, just misplaced emotions. Just circumstances.
Satisfied with how quickly and efficiently he'd categories, labelled and stored away his baseless concern, he increased his pace so he could finally get that check-up done and over with.
But as he approached the stairs down to the first floor, he saw a Kakushi folding a familiar haori. An all too familiar haori. The half-and-half pattern unmistakable even through the bloodstains, dirt and tears. Next to the Kokushi sat a waste basket. She'd just opened it. The haori in hand, she'd just opened it... and his mind clicked.
Without thinking, he barked out, “What are you doing with that?”
The Kakushi jumped, looking up, startled, hand freezing over the basket. The lack of motion towards throwing the filthy thing away eased something within his soul for some reason. ''What?'' she asked, surprise evident in her tone.
''The haori,'' he gritted out, pointing at it. ''What are you doing with it?''
''Oh,'' she looked down at her hands, blinking slowly. “Well,'' she started, fidgeting in place, likely because he was glaring, he should not be glaring, he still felt like he was glaring. ''It’s too damaged. We’re going to dispose of it. We’ve already noted the colours and pattern to make a new one for Tomioka-san, so don't worry about that.”
Before he could even come up with a coherent thought on the matter, Sanemi’s hand shot out involuntarily, snatching the haori. away in one swift motion “You’re not throwing this away,” he snapped. “I’ll take care of it.”
The Kakushi stared at him, bewildered, but he didn’t wait for a response. He stormed out, the haori clutched tightly in his hand.
Had he gone crazy? Why had he even done that? Clearly this mess of what used to be material could not be salvaged. The Kakushi was just doing her job. And yet…..as he walked, Obanai’s words echoed in his mind. The pillar had once told him how much the haori meant to the idiot , though he never explained why. Still, while Sanemi didn’t understand the reason, he could begrudgingly respect the sentiment.
Fuck, oh how he hated the Water Pillar.
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The next morning, Giyu awoke, groggy and disoriented. A feeling that was all too familiar at this point. He grimaced as he sat up, wincing at the pain that flared in his side.
The mission hadn't gone so well. Too many kids, too many lives to protect. It had been…..difficult. Pulling his arms under him, he swung his legs over the side, blinking groggily, trying to put his vision into focus. It was only when his eyes zeroed in on the material draped over the chair beside his bed that he paused. Fingers coming up, shakingly to brush against something soft and familiar. His haori, freshly cleaned and meticulously patched.
He ran his fingers over the fabric, feeling the newly sewn stitches. A quiet sense of relief washing over him. Despite everything, his haori was still with him. He still had it, it was fine. They were still with him. He wasn't alone. Blinking away the itchy feeling behind his eyes, he slid down the bed and while his legs were shaky, forced himself to stand. Grabbing the haori, he unfolded it the best he could and tried to pull it on, struggling with the bandages and the lingering pain.
It was by his third try that the frustration set. He was making no headway. He sighed, raising his arm again because childish as it may seem, he needed to put it on. He needed them to be there with him. He needed---
A scoff by the door made him tense and look up. Sanemi was leaning against the doorframe, arm crossed and ever too present scowl marring his face. Giyu raised a single eyebrow. What was the Wind Hashira even doing here?
Sanemi's scowl deepened but after an awkward silence that went on for too long, he scoffed again, pushing himself up off the door and walking over. “You’re hopeless,” he muttered, his tone gruff. ''Give me that,'' he waved his hand at the haori, and when Giyu only looked at him in utter bewilderment and confusion, he promptly snatched it away. His surprising care for the clothe; brushing off imaginary dust and getting rid of creases with his thumb, the only thing that prevented Giyu from lashing out at him.
But with rough hands, Sanemi, the Wind Pillar who'd made it very very clear to him that he hated him, helped him slip his arms into the sleeves, adjusting the haori on his shoulders with astonishing amount of care. Eyes refusing to meet his but for the first time in forever, not having a single frown line tipping his face into a scowl as he poked and prodded his side to make sure the bandages held properly. Giyu was too shocked to speak.
“There,” Sanemi finally said, stepping back. “Don’t ruin it again.”
Giyu was still too stunned to respond for a moment. But then, “Thank you,” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sanemi waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, turning away. But as he walked off he seemed to hesitated briefly by the door, almost as if he wanted to say something before shaking his head, muttering something Giyu couldn't quite make out and stalking off.
For a while, Giyu just stood there, eyes fixated on the spot Sanemi had been not too long ago. Wondering if he'd received a greater head injury than he'd been told or if he'd fallen head first into an alternate dimension. First Obanai and now…..
Giyu brushed his fingers over the haori once more, feeling of warmth spreading through him like tendrils of sunbeams. In a weird way, it was beginning to dawn on him that despite everything, he wasn’t truly alone, not really. He had good comrades who cared, even if they had a hard time showing it.
Sabito would have liked them.
He pulled the haori tighter around himself, finding comfort in its familiar weight, and let out a sigh of relief.