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Obanai stood in the shadows of the manor, his heart thundering in his chest, breath ragged and blinking away the sweat trickling down his forehead, stinging his eyes. He'd been standing here for the past half an hour, his legs unwilling to move and his heart trying to burst out of its cage. Standing in the shadow of what once felt like the most welcoming place on earth, he tried his best not to let bitterness consume him.
Seven days had passed since he’d made the decision, the silent choice to finally swallow his grief and go see the Master. He'd slowly realized that no amount of overworking, haggard attempt at doing the right thing singlehandedly was going to save the world from Muzan. He needed help, he needed to admit the truth and the only way to do that, to truly move forward and save everyone was to talk to Oyakata-sama. Seven days, and each day had been a relentless struggle. In theory he'd been ready for seven days, but clearly action still failed him humiliatingly so. He knew he couldn't keep avoiding this meeting. Yet, the thought of facing Oyakata-sama filled him with a sense of trepidation he had never known before.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. This had to be done. He couldn't just stand here forever wishing the Master would suddenly realize he wasn't from this time and solve his problems for him. Oyakata-sama was one of a kind but even he couldn't read minds, so he took the first step then the next; wet grass squashing under his shoes. The path leading to the Master’s chamber seemed longer than usual and he briefly let himself mourn his decision of leaving his friend behind, the only friend who knew what he really was and had chosen to accept him anyways. For right now, Kaburamaru coiling around his neck, sensing his unease and offering the familiar quiet, constant companionship was what Obanai desperately wanted to cling to. But alas, he was alone.
Breathing in deeply, he silently approached the sliding doors of Oyakata-sama's chamber, he hesitated for a brief moment. He'd already written to the man and he'd been welcomed without hesitation. The Master was waiting for him. He was welcomed. That shouldn't have scared him. Normally it wouldn't have but it did now, oh it did and he hated himself for it.
The warm glow of lanterns spilled softly into the hallway, casting a gentle light that seemed to beckon him forward despite the trepidation coursing through his veins. Swallowing hard, feeling the tightness in his throat -- he, with a resolute exhale, slide the wooden door open and stepped inside. Kneeling on the floor briefly in greeting before making his way over.
Oyakata-sama sat serenely, a picture of calm grace despite the slowly setting curse of blindness clouding his sight. The Master turned his head slightly in the snake pillar's direction when he'd opened the door, a gentle smile gracing his lips as if he had nothing better to do. Obanai wanted to sew that smile into the craves of his soul.
"Obanai," the Master greeted him, his voice a soothing balm to the turmoil churning within him. "It's been some time. Please, sit. Have some tea with me."
Bowing even deeper and trying to mask the nervous tremor in his hands, Obanai kept his face carefully blank as he took his place across from Oyakata-sama. The room was filled with the delicate fragrance of brewed tea, a familiar comfort that usually settled Obanai’s mind. Yet today, it failed to quell the anxiety that twisted inside him. And he hated it. Hated how everything felt so painfully familiar but he just didn't fit. He was the wrong piece to the puzzle and the world surrounding him mocked him for it. Mocked him with glee and reverie.
"Thank you, Master," he replied, shoving the darkness in a neat box in the back of his mind and reaching for the teacup before him. The porcelain felt cool against his skin. He took a careful sip, hoping the warmth would steady his frayed nerves. ''I appreciate you taking the time to see me.''
''Not at all, I have missed your company.''
He flushed, fidgeting in embarrassment but Oyakata-sama only watched him with an attentive gaze, as if sensing the inner conflict that waged within him. Sensing that he wasn't the same perhaps. That he was someone in the skin of the Obanai he knew and cared for. It made him fidget even more.
The silence stretched between them, and while deep within he did feel uncomfortable, he couldn't help but to also embrace the quiet silence between them that was only filled by the soft rustle of leaves outside the open window and the distant hum of cicadas.
"You seem troubled, Obanai," the Master spoke up finally, setting his own cup down with deliberate care; voice delicate, soft and everything that once held the snake pillar close. "Is there something weighing on your mind?"
Obanai's chest tightened, his throat suddenly dry despite the tea he had just sipped. The words he had rehearsed so many times lodged painfully in his throat, refusing to be spoken. He lowered his gaze, ashamed of his inability to articulate the burden he carried.
"Master, I..." He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. He despised the cowardice that held him back, the fear of revealing the truth that gnawed at his insides. Time traveller, how could he just blurt that out? Who would even believe him? Time travel, that was insane even thinking about and to say it, to put words to the thoughts he'd been secluding to the very corner of his mind this entire time….He couldn't - he. "I have been...having dreams." He settled for instead, brain shortcutting momentarily, mind flashing with flames and bright smiles and a back that could carry the world. ''Dreams…I, they haunt me.''
The admission was a mere whisper, yet it hung heavily in the air between them. Oyakata-sama remained silent, his expression one of patient encouragement, silently urging him to continue. He did. Not daring to think, not daring to step fully over the bridge he'd been building with bleeding hands and desperate screams.
"Dreams of the future," he forced out, his voice barely a rasp. His heart pounded in his chest, a drumbeat of uncertainty that echoed through his entire being. "They’re not just dreams, Master. They're real. I've seen things...things that haven't happened yet, things that have happened, people, figures, demons." There, he'd said it. Not the full truth but close, so close, too close. And,
Oyakata-sama listened. His expression was open he noted. He couldn't read it but there was the familiar kindness, the familiar goodness and the understanding not marred with doubt. Not one bit. "Oh?" he replied, his tone requesting an elaboration.
And Obanai felt a flicker of defensiveness flare within him. The Master's calm demeanour seemed almost too accepting, as if the enormity of his confession hadn't fully registered. "They’re real," Obanai repeated, his voice firmer this time, trying to convince Oyakata-sama, because if he couldn't convince him, if he couldn't convince the one person who'd always been so kind, so perfect, the stars themselves, he…... "I dream the future, Master. I swear it."
Lips curving into a soft smile, a quiet amusement dancing in his eyes Oyakata-sama just shook his head in fondness. It was a reaction that caught Obanai off guard, stirring confusion and frustration within him into a whirlpool of self-doubt. Did the Master not believe him? Or was this just another one of his enigmatic ways of offering comfort?
Oyakata-sama chuckled lightly then, the sound a soft breeze through the tense atmosphere. "I believe you, Obanai," he assured, his voice laced with a warmth that eased some of the tension coiling within the snake pillar. "But I must say, it’s quite a coincidence. Premonition, it seems, is something we share."
Blinking slowly, because what? Surprise washed over him like a cold wave. "You... have visions too, Master?" he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and something else he couldn't quite put a finger on because it couldn't be right… two of them, two time travellers…..
The Master nodded, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "Indeed. Though mine are but glimpses, fleeting and often shrouded in mystery. It runs in my family, has for generations.'' Here there was an unbearable amount of love in his eyes that nearly scorched him black. ''Perhaps we are blood Obanai. Perhaps we have another layer of bond connecting us, via blood this time. Isn't that wonderful.''
The implication of those words struck Obanai with a force so violent it left him reeling. A sickening sense of dread curled in the pit of his stomach, twisting into knots that threatened to choke him. The idea that his own impure blood could be linked to Oyakata-sama's lineage felt like a blasphemy, a stain he couldn't bear.
The world seemed to spin around him as his mind raced. He could feel the bile rising in his throat, a familiar sensation of panic creeping up his spine. The room felt suddenly too small, the walls closing in around him. His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale a struggle against the suffocating weight of his guilt, his survival, his chances, too many chances, his impurity, his…… his everything. And he couldn't, they couldn't….he….
A wave of nausea surged through him, a visceral, gut burning response that clawed at his insides. He doubled over, the teacup slipping from his grasp and shattering against the floor as he was overtaken by the violent urge to vomit. The acrid taste of bile burned in his throat as he retched, his body shaking with the force of his convulsions. The room spun around him, a dizzying blur of colours and sounds that only intensified his sense of disorientation.
He couldn't, they couldn't…. Not Oyakata-sama. Not Ubuyashiki-sama. Not the best man humanity would ever know. He couldn't be related to him. The scum that he was. The pit of humanities sin that he was. Ubuyashiki-sama was too grand, too great, to beautiful and perfect and their salvation. He couldn't have the guttural sludge that was Obanai's blood running through his veins too, he couldn't.
"Obanai!" Oyakata-sama's voice was sharp with concern yet calming, always calming. It served as a lifeline amidst the chaos consuming him. The Master was at his side in an instant, reaching out for him but Obanai stumbled back, shaking his head, shaking, shaking. Choking on the bile rising up his throat his fingers scrabbling at the bandages wrapped around his face in desperation, clawing at the fabric, trying to breathe.
He didn't want to throw up but his body wouldn't cooperate and,
"I...I can't..." he choked out, the words a strangled plea. 'Help Master, please help.'
The pressure building up his throat threatened to shatter his composure entirely, leaving him feeling exposed and raw and disgusting in front of the one person he couldn't bear to disappoint.
Oyakata-sama's presence broke through then. Broke the chaos, the turmoil, the pain. His soft but firm hands moving swiftly as he reached to help, guiding his own trembling fingers away from the bandages. The Master’s touch was steady, a calming presence that helped ground the snake pillar in the present moment even as his mind continued to reel.
"Easy now, Obanai," Oyakata-sama murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm against the death grip his shattered past had on him. With practiced care, he unwound the bandages from his face, revealing the scars beneath -- and freeing his mouth. ''There there my friend. It's alright, breathe for me. There you go.''
Freed from the confines of the bandages, Obanai gasped for air, the coolness of the room washing over his exposed skin like a gentle breeze. His vision blurred with tears, and he felt a fresh wave of nausea roil within him.
Unable to hold it back any longer, Obanai retched violently, his body convulsing as he vomited onto the floor. He felt utterly wretched, a pitiful creature laid bare before the Master, his shame and self-loathing a palpable presence in the room. What a fucking embarrassment he was.
"Shh, it's alright," the Master soothed, his touch cool against Obanai’s fevered skin as he carefully helped him to sit upright. Oyakata-sama's hands were gentle as he used his own sleeve to wipe away the remnants of Obanai’s sick from his mouth, a tenderness that only deepened the shame gnawing at his heart. Might as well dig under the floorboards and bury himself alive right then and there.
How could he call himself Hashira after that? How could he do anything of use when he was this useless?
And yet, he found himself leaning into the Master's touch, closing his eyes and trying struttingly to breathe at the Master's behest.
The Master’s robes rustled softly as he moved, guiding Obanai to his feet, supporting him with an ease that belied the frailty of his own condition.
"Let's get you cleaned up," he said, his voice a serving as a temporary anchor in the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm Obanai still. There was no judgment in his tone, no hint of disappointment—only a quiet compassion that made Obanai's heart ache and his soul cry; old and new.
Together, they made their way to a small adjoining chamber, the Master’s arm remaining a supportive presence around his shoulders. Guiding him to a seat, his movements deliberate and telegraphed Oyakata-sama fetched a basin of water and a clean cloth. His touch was tender as he began to wipe away the remnants of vomit from his skin and his hair. The Master didn't say anything the entire time he busied himself with nursing his sorryass back to functioning human being and well, Obanai remained silent too, his gaze fixed on the floor as the Master tended to him. He felt numb, the aftermath of his embarrassing overdramatic reaction leaving him in a state of almost zoned out detachment. He wanted to snap, push himself away to lick his own wounds somewhere far away. Maybe scold himself, maybe apologize, maybe hide forever. But even as the thoughts came in rapid fire, he couldn't find the energy to do any of that. He could barely move his head. He could barely exist inside his own body. He was so fucking tired. Even the embarrassment that should have accompanied such state was a distant echo, overshadowed by the exhaustion that weighed so much it nearly bent his back in two.
Once Obanai was cleaned and the soiled robes set aside, Oyakata-sama offered him a fresh set of clothing. 'His own,' a distant part of his brain registered. A simple yet elegant attire that bore the Master's own insignia. 'How kind,' he thought. 'How foolish to dress a monster in the clothes of salvation.'
"Here, let me help you," the Master said interrupting his muddled, scattered thoughts, before assisting him with changing into the new garments. Oyakata-sama’s hands were deft and unhurried, his touch guiding Obanai through the motions.
Obanai felt a flicker of gratitude amidst the fog of his thoughts. Maybe later he would bury himself in training, bleed until he couldn't bleed anymore. Maybe he would scream and rage and suffer and beg for forgiveness for tainting someone so pure with remnants of himself but now, right now, he was so fucking tired. So instead of all that, he allowed himself the single kindness of leaning into Oyakata-sama's presence, finding a semblance of peace in the quiet rhythm of the Master's heartbeat.
As the final layer of clothing was settled into place, Obanai felt a wave of fatigue wash over him, his body and mind drained by the ordeal he had endured. He swayed slightly, his strength waning, and the Master was there to catch him, guiding him to sit on a nearby cushion.
"Rest now, Obanai," Oyakata-sama murmured, his voice washing over him holding faint traces of warmth that almost managed to reach him where the land of dreams where slowly taking him away.
''Alright,'' he found himself mumbling back. ''Maybe a little bit. Maybe---'' He trailed off. And in the stillness of the room, Obanai found himself surrendering to the weariness that tugged at him, his head coming to rest on Oyakata-sama's lap. The Master’s fingers immediately came to combe through his hair. It felt like all the tenderness in the world went into that single gesture and,
The tears that had threatened to spill over throughout these past months, throughout the war, throughout deaths and destruction and second chances and griefs upon griefs finally broke free, sliding down Obanai’s cheeks in silent rivulets. He felt the Master's hand brush them away.
Oh,
How nice.
How kind.
He felt so fucking tired.
"Perhaps this is a conversation for another time," Oyakata-sama said, interrupting his thoughts, voice carrying like a lullaby. There was no pressure, no expectation—only a firm reassurance that Obanai's worth was not diminished by the darkness he'd buried himself in.
Obanai nodded, unable to find his voice amidst the torrent of emotions flaying him alive. Oyakata-sama began to hum a tune then, the melody unfamiliar yet soothing in its simplicity. The delicate rise and fall of the notes wove a tapestry of calm around Obanai, lulling him into a state of peaceful sleep.
Yeah, maybe they could talk another time.
After all, he felt so fucking tired. But…., there was so much to do. He'd already wasted enough time. He couldn't just rest because he felt like it. It wasn't right and,
He opened his mouth to speak--
''Sleep Obanai.'' A hand running through his hair, a kind voice of personified goodness. ''Please.''
Yeah, okay, okay. Maybe for a little bit.
''Sleep.''
And so he did.
The Master's orders.