Chapter Text
If there is one thing that Iguro Obanai could change about being a hashira, it would be that the townspeople actually give accurate accounts of what the slayers are actually meant to fucking kill.
One demon, they said. Not very strong. Fucking idiots. Because the twelve foot tall creature with arms as big as his whole body swinging wildly around inside the dilapidated shinto shrine, is not stealthy in the slightest.
Deep down, he knows he can't be angry at the accounts of the young children who gave descriptions. They have no real gauge of what makes a strong demon and what doesn't. But Jesus Christ, did the fact that he was MASSIVE slip their minds?
On his radar, Sanemi's dealing with the demon pretty well. Big demons are no problem with how strong he is. When the demon brings down it's massive fist, Sanemi just raises his sword with ease. He just needs an opening. The demon's focus is split right now, but Sanemi is taking the bear brunt of it- the beast hasn't managed a hit yet, but he's certainly gotten close.
He breaks into a run behind the demon, jumping to behead it. His sword is poised. Second Form: Venom Fangs of the Narrow Head.
The demon twists, spine twisting to an unnatural degree to face Obanai. Obanai, who is in the air, and cannot dodge the fist the creature sends his way. Behind him, Sanemi's face twists into something he can't easily recognize. If he had more time, he would observe it in more scrutiny.
The fist collides with him, and Obanai feels something shatter in his chest. The force is enough to send him reeling backwards into the beam, tumbling through air, helpless.
His first instinct is to brace for impact.
But then his head strikes the hard wood beam behind him with a sickening crack.
Stars erupted behind his eyes. Darkness clawed at his vision. Pain bloomed in his chest, in his ribs, inside his skull. He was only vaguely aware of hitting the ground, because through his haze, he was aware. He needed up. He needed to stand. To reach for his sword- wherever it was, and to help Sanemi.
His vision refocuses, slowly. But he can see a disintegrating demon, and a very pissed off Sanemi. A very pissed off Sanemi who is coming towards Obanai.
"Hey!" He shouts, and that alone makes Obanai's vision blur and refocus again.
Obanai stands- gritting his teeth to avoid shouting in pain as his ribs protest the movement and his vision swims. "...A.. Apologies, Shinazugawa." He finally murmurs at last. "..I could have been more helpful."
Sanemi doesn't say anything. His face is contorted into an expression Obanai is unfamiliar with on his face. "Are.." He starts, before scowling. "You alright, dumbass?"
Obanai pointedly ignores the insult, as per usual. "Just got the wind knocked out of me." He locates his sword a small ways away. Each step hurts, and his breath is shallow, but he's getting there. Bending down makes him pause, because he isn't quite sure that if he goes down, that he can get back up again.
Sanemi grumbles a ways behind him. "You hit the goddamn beam so hard there's a dent in it. Don’t tell me you’re fine."
He snatches the sword, shoving it into Obanai's arms. Obanai grabs it with a scoff, sliding it back in it's sheath. "Focus on the mission, Shinazugawa." His voice is venomous, but his breath is shallow. He isn't even sure he's looking at Sanemi because the stars in his eyes are making it hard to focus.
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The journey to headquarters is long. Since this village is so remote, the roads are more like dirt trails overgrowing at the sides. Which would be fine if Obanai could see where the roots were. He only narrowly avoided them the way there. But now, his vision is blurring in pulses, and every step sends little shocks to his ribcage. Shallow breathing seems to make the pain lessen.
Sanemi trails ahead, fists clenched in some pure emotion that could either be annoyance or rage, but it's difficult to tell. Everything is tilting a little to the left when he puts his foot down. It's getting difficult to focus enough to correct himself so he doesn't go straight into the bushes.
He has to wonder about the demon. How did it manage to get so strong? There aren't many people to feed off in that village. And the main population is small children and the elderly. How do the working adults manage to support them all? He doesn't think that many of them are marechi; the demon seemed a little too interested in Sanemi and his blood. If there were many marechi's it had been in contact with before, it's possible it could have built up a tolderance, but it didn't have one.
Obanai is ripped from his thoughts by strong arms pulling him off his feet and also the ground. For a few moments, he's stunned.
"...Shinazugawa. Put me down."
"No."
"Shinazugawa."
"No."
Sanemi doesn't even look at him, save for a downward glance. "...You aren't walking anymore." He decides firmly. Obanai rolls his eyes, but doesn't complain. As much as his pride is absolutely begging him to. Because his legs, now that he's not standing on them, feel like limp jelly in Sanemi's hold. It would be more embarassing to fall because he can't hold himself up than to be carried.
"...We're going to Shinobu." Sanemi's voice is quiet as he glares into the distance.
"I would have gone anyway." Obanai sighs.