Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Decline [Archaic]: Any disease in which bodily strength gradually fails

He was so damn tired.

Sanemi trudged alone on the road. The sun was hanging heavy in the western sky, casting the world in the deep golden glow of late afternoon. There were few other travelers, and for that he was grateful. He could only imagine how haggard and exhausted he looked, dressed in a filthy uniform, hair greasy and flat on his head, dark circles that he could feel beneath gritty eyes. He was a mess, and the last thing he needed was the fear and criticism of people who had no idea that the reason for his unkempt appearance was that he spent his nights saving their lives. 

His last mission had been particularly grueling. Not for the demon itself, but it had taken almost two weeks just to locate it. The locals meant well, but they’d sent him on a damn wild goose chase following rumors and stories, hunting through the city for a demon that had been hiding in the nearby mountains the whole time. The one saving grace of the mission was that when he finally found the bastard, it had put up hardly any fight at all. He'd expected at least some sort of challenge, given the number of Corps members who’d been killed by the thing, but he’d managed to make quick work of it. How those lower ranked slayers couldn't handle it, he'd never understand. They were useless.

Sanemi reached his arms over his head, stretching stiff muscles, then hissed suddenly, hand flying to his side. So maybe the demon had put up some fight. In its final attack—perhaps knowing that it was going to die regardless—it had foregone avoiding Sanemi’s blade in an effort to put its claws in his belly. Sanemi had deflected the demon, but not quite enough to prevent it digging a track of shallow furrows across his side. It hurt like a bitch, but it was far from the worst injury he’d received on a mission, and nothing he hadn’t handled a hundred times before. He patched himself up, and headed home right then, knowing it would take the rest of the night and the entire following days’ travel to get there. He had no interest in spending another night away from his estate, sore and tired, worn down from restless nights away from home sleeping on an unfamiliar futon alone. 

It was pathetic, and a source of perpetual irritation, that he could never seem to sleep well on his own these days. It was like being a kid again, sharing a small, worn out futon with Genya, unable to sleep without the comfort of his brother beside him. Of course it wasn't Genya that he was used to sharing a bed with now. No. Sanemi closed his eyes for a moment, his mind immediately conjuring images of dark hair against fair skin, sharp features and eyes bluer than the sky. Barely more than a fortnight since he’d seen the damned Water Hashira, but it felt like years.

His thoughts turned to Tomioka Giyuu as he continued on the road home. Sanemi would never admit it, could barely accept it even in his own head, but more and more he felt like he needed Giyuu. For years, he'd pushed everyone away, staved off all affection, determined to walk his path alone, determined to never lose another person he loved. Now? He yearned for Giyuu, craved him. In spite of his every effort to hate Giyuu, to nurture his anger and drive the man off, he’d grown addicted to the way Giyuu looked at him, the way his voice murmured his name, the way his fingers traced the lines of his body as if it were Sanemi that was something beautiful rather than this scarred monster a life slaying demons had turned him into. Sanemi grit his teeth. It was humiliating how quickly his resolve crumbled under the man's ocean blue eyes and gentle touches time and again. 

Feeling the heat rising in his cheeks, Sanemi shook his head and tried to focus on keeping his exhausted body trekking towards the Wind Estate. Home. Back home. Giyuu would be there, he knew. All he wanted was to collapse into bed with Giyuu at his side, wrap his arms around him and fall asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat and the sound of his breath.

If he were following protocol, he ought to head to the Butterfly mansion. Just in case, Shinobu always insisted. You never knew when an injury might turn out to be worse than you thought. But Sanemi was no stranger to injuries, and he knew that the one he’d taken was nothing more than a matter of bandages and patience while it healed. His stitching was decent, and, damn it, he wanted to go home and rest. 

The gate of the Wind Estate came into view just as the sun began to approach the horizon. Relief took some of the exhaustion from his shoulders, and he lengthened his stride. Trudging through the front gate, Sorai lifted off from his shoulder and soared to the roof of the estate, settling beside the grizzled form of Giyuu’s old crow, Kanzaburo. Sanemi sighed, reassured that Giyuu indeed was here, and made his way to the engawa, dragging himself up the steps.

Reaching the front door, his hand settled heavily against it a moment, catching his breath, before he slid it open on its track. He leaned against the doorway as he caught sight of Giyuu sitting at the kotatsu in the main room. His head lifted from the cup of tea in his hands as he heard the door. 

"You're back," Giyuu said quietly, his expression betraying few emotions, but what his expression lacked, his blue eyes carried tenfold. They shone as they fixed on Sanemi. Getting to his feet, Giyuu crossed the room in a few long strides, and then without another word his lips were on Sanemi's. 

Weight lifted from Sanemi's shoulders as affection swept over him. He wrapped Giyuu in his arms and leaned into the press of his lips. As good as any drug or medicine Shinobu could offer, Giyuu's kiss. Comfort smoothed away Sanemi's exhaustion. Home. This was home. When Giyuu's hands were softly stroking his skin, threading into his hair; when Sanemi could taste the flavor of his smiles that were as rare as shooting stars; when they were together, it somehow soothed a measure of the pain that lived beneath Sanemi's surface, and the world didn't feel so dark anymore.

"You miss me?" Sanemi teased, resting his forehead against Giyuu's. Their breath mingled warmly between them.  

Giyuu didn't answer the question directly, but his eyes glinted, mischief tugging at one corner of his lips, and he dragged Sanemi to him once again. More urgency, now. More hunger. More want, his kisses asking a question that Sanemi wanted nothing more than to answer. He blindly slid the door behind him closed, and then pressed into Giyuu, hands running over his shoulders, slipping beneath the edges of his yukata, wandering when they found skin until—

Sanemi's breath lodged in his lungs as pain sprinted up his side from his fresh injury where Giyuu had unintentionally gripped it through the fabric of his uniform. He flinched, grit his teeth and groaned, tipping his head back. Giyuu immediately froze and drew back. 

"You're hurt," he accused, gaze narrowed. His voice was cold. It might have been mistaken for anger by anyone else. Sanemi recognized it for the concern that it was.

"Barely," he corrected, "It's nothing. It'll be healed in a few days, trust me." 

Giyuu eyed him skeptically. "Will you let me see?" 

"No," Sanemi said. The sudden pain was already subsiding. He reached up and gently tugged a lock of Giyuu's raven hair. "There's nothing to see. A few claw marks that are already cleaned, stitched up and bandaged. So you can stop giving me that look."

Giyuu continued with that look regardless as he huffed a short breath, dissatisfied with Sanemi's stubbornness.

"If it isn't a big deal then let me see it," he insisted as his eyes trailed down to where his hand had gripped moments ago. Sanemi hooked Giyuu's chin with his finger, though, tilting it upwards, catching his gaze once more. 

"Giyuu,” he murmured, eyes flitting from his eyes to his lips. “I have been gone too long to be having this argument. Worry about it later." 

Giyuu, however, was never one for saving his worry for later, headstrong and obstinate to a fault. Sanemi watched as Giyuu’s resolve steeled. His gaze moved analytically over Sanemi, scanning his face, his posture, observing the things Sanemi knew betrayed his exhaustion. The pits under his eyes. The grime on his skin. The fatigue rolling from his sore body. 

A heavy sigh marked Giyuu’s eventual concession, tension leaving his shoulders along with the fight in his eyes, at least for the moment. A hand lifted to rest on Sanemi's cheek, thumb running the length of his scar. Sanemi leaned into the touch, covering Giyuu’s hand with his own.

"Fine…” Giyuu said, “We’ll look at it tomorrow. But you're resting for the rest of the evening."

"Giyuu—" Sanemi said, exasperated, rolling his eyes.  

"The rest of the evening," Giyuu cut in with a harsh voice.

Sanemi met his sharp gaze and deflated a bit. There would be no arguing with Giyuu on this point, it seemed. It was as infuriating as it was endearing, knowing that it came from a place of concern for Sanemi’s wellbeing. Giyuu didn’t miss Sanemi’s disappointment. Winding his arms around his neck, he leaned in and pressed slow kisses to Sanemi’s lips. 

“This…” Giyuu murmured between one kiss and the next, breath dancing along Sanemi’s lips in the sliver of space between them. “It can wait until morning.” He kissed Sanemi once more, deeper, lips parting, and Sanemi tasted the flavor of tea lingering on his tongue as it greeted his with easy confidence. Sanemi gripped the fabric of Giyuu’s yukata in his fingers, a hand pressing against the small of his back to bring him closer, returning his kiss fervently until Giyuu finally he drew back and said, “For tonight, take a bath to wash the travel off your skin, and sleep, alright?” 

A small smirk crept onto Sanemi’s face, refusing to release Giyuu from his embrace. "You may have to help me get these clothes off for that bath," he suggested.  

Giyuu snorted softly and smacked Sanemi on the chest, and Sanemi couldn’t help his smile. He let his hands fall from Giyuu’s waist as the dark haired man stepped back.

"Tomorrow," Giyuu reminded, taking Sanemi's hand in his and towing him off towards the bath chamber and the tub that was waiting.

Sanemi followed with a sigh. Now that his senses weren't occupied with the Water Hashira, the soreness and exhaustion crept back over him. Could he convince Giyuu, he wondered, that the bath could also wait? If he was determined to be stubborn about tomorrow, then all Sanemi truly wanted to do was sleep. It had been a while since he'd felt quite so worn down after a mission. But then, maybe it was to be expected. He'd had back-to-back missions in the last month, and this mission had taken longer than he'd anticipated. And, of course, travel was tiring in its own right. He dismissed the complaints of his body. A good night’s rest, a warm meal, relaxing with Giyuu in this rare overlap in their time between missions. That was all he needed. 

And, a bath, apparently. 

Giyuu had already drawn the water, and was waiting expectantly for Sanemi to strip out of his soiled uniform. 

"Anyone ever tell you how annoying you are when you're worried?" Sanemi chuckled, shrugging out of his haori, followed by his uniform top, belt, kyahan, hakama, until he was stripped down to scarred skin. 

"Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are when you pretend to be fine? A blind man could see the way you’re barely managing to stay on your feet," Giyuu returned as Sanemi stepped into the tub, though there was no bite in the words. 

Sanemi tipped his head back and looked up at Giyuu, sitting on a stool beside the tub, reaching for a bar of soap. On impulse, Sanemi reached up and grasped Giyuu's hair again. The dark strands stuck readily to his damp fingers, winding around them. He loved the way it felt on his skin, wanted to run his hands into it, pull free the tie keeping it confined and let it spill over Giyuu’s shoulders like ink. 

Giyuu stilled, glancing at the scarred hand in his hair. "Sanemi," he sighed fondly, gently removing his hand from his hair. 

“What?” Sanemi asked, smirking. 

“You’re impossible,” Giyuu murmured, setting a hand on Sanemi's forehead to sweep his hair back, lifting a cup of water to pour it over his hair. He hesitated though, hand stilling and settling against Sanemi's forehead. 

Sanemi made a questioning sound when Giyuu remained still for a moment too long. 

"You're warm," Giyuu said quietly, slowly resuming his task, lifting the cup and pouring it carefully over Sanemi's hair. 

"I'm sitting in a warm bath," Sanemi said, as if that weren't obvious. 

Giyuu huffed. "No, you are warm—you have a fever. Do you feel alright?" 

"Just tired," Sanemi sighed, "That's all. I just need to get some sleep. I'll be fine by morning." 

It wasn't a lie exactly. He was tired. But the soreness in his muscles was settling deeper, rather than alleviating as it usually did with the warm water, and his stomach felt a bit unsettled. The weeks of travel and slaying demons, it seemed, were finally taking their toll on his health. Still, he didn’t get sick often, and he had no doubt that all he needed was a bit of sleep. He'd be as good as ever come morning.

Giyuu pursed his lips with an unconvinced hum, returning his hand to Sanemi’s forehead, then settled on his shoulder before speaking up. “You should go to the Butterfly Mansion tomorrow.” 

Sanemi groaned as he let his head fall back to rest against the rim of the tub. “I told you, I’m fine. Maybe I picked up a cold—that’s it.”

He was met with silence. Peering over, Giyuu’s expression was muted. His grip on Sanemi’s shoulder was tight.

Sanemi placed his hand over Giyuu’s. “Hey,” he said gently, “If it gets bad, I’ll go. In the meantime, I’ve got you, alright?”

Giyuu’s eyes met Sanemi’s. He considered the proposal for a moment, then nodded and returned to his task, taking the soap in his hands and scrubbing at Sanemi’s hair. As fingers worked through tangled, wind knotted locks, Sanemi let himself sink deeper into the water and relax. Giyuu’s fingernails on his scalp felt heavenly, and focused on their soothing motions through his hair, he didn’t even notice things starting to get fuzzier, until eventually they disappeared entirely as his mind slipped into sleep. 

“Sanemi,” Giyuu said when Sanemi’s head lulled slightly to the side. He leaned over to see that the Wind Hashira had dozed off, and he scoffed, rolling his eyes. This man had the gall to claim he was fine, but couldn’t stay awake long enough to finish bathing. Watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, Giyuu sighed. It was good. He needed the rest—it was evident from the moment he’d returned. Giyuu had rarely seen him so run down. Still, Sanemi was right that Giyuu was getting concerned over what was, ultimately, very little. A good night’s rest, he reminded himself, just like Sanemi had said, and he would be fine come morning. 

The rest of the bath was quiet, and once he’d finished, Giyuu gently woke Sanemi and helped the groggy, off-balance hashira from the tub. 

“Sorry,” Sanemi grumbled, accepting a towel and drying himself, then clumsily slipping into the yukata that Giyuu handed to him. “More tired than I thought.” 

"It’s fine. Do you want anything...?" Giyuu asked. They left the bath chamber, heading to Sanemi’s rooms. "Food, tea, I can get you—" 

"I don't need anything," Sanemi interrupted as they entered the room. He looked around the space in relief, lowering himself to the futon. His stomach turned slightly and his head spun. He shut his eyes. "Just sleep." 

Giyuu considered, then said, "It’s not too late yet. You should eat before you go to sleep for the night… I can make something. Rest and I’ll wake you when it’s ready." 

"Fine, Giyuu, whatever gets you off my back," Sanemi complained affectionately, lying down and dropping an arm over his eyes to block out the deep red light of the sunset that was filtering through the window. Walking over, Giyuu pulled the shade down, and the room fell into muted darkness. He looked once more at Sanemi, brow creasing slightly, then turned to the door. 

"Hey, wait," Sanemi called out to him, raising himself up slightly. "Come here." 

Giyuu walked over to Sanemi, waiting expectantly for whatever it was he needed. 

"Down here," Sanemi snapped impatiently, then darted a hand out to grab Giyuu's wrist and dragged him onto the futon. Giyuu lost his balance and caught himself on Sanemi's shoulder, falling into him. Sanemi laughed as Giyuu scowled at him, letting go of his wrist so he could cup his cheek. 

"Sanemi I told you—" Giyuu warned, but Sanemi hushed him with a kiss. 

"Just lie down with me for a few minutes," Sanemi murmured, "It helps me relax. Then you can go worry about making food and whatever else, alright?" 

Giyuu blew out a frustrated breath. “You always have to get your way, don’t you,” he chided.  

“You like it,” Sanemi growled. Giyuu rolled his eyes, but eased down beside Sanemi. Sanemi's arms wound around him, holding him close, tucking his head against Giyuu's chest so he could hear the beating of his heart, and Giyuu drew his fingers soothingly through Sanemi's damp hair. It was a matter of only moments before Sanemi fell asleep, the Wind Hashira drifting off quickly. Unusual... Sanemi rarely fell asleep so fast.

Giyuu tried to shove down the buds of anxiety growing in his mind as he held Sanemi.

People got sick, and they got better, he reassured himself, adamantly ignoring the small voice that reminded him that he knew all too well that sometimes when people got sick they didn’t get better. The memories were vague now, old and faded with time. But he hadn’t forgotten how he felt, watching his parents wither away in their beds, their bodies giving up despite the will of their spirits to fight on. He remembered the comings and goings of doctors. He remembered his sister’s arms around him, promising him that they would be going to a better place. He remembered the smell of death clinging to their skin when he said goodbye.

Giyuu shuddered, closing the memories back up and putting them away. Sanemi was not his mother and father, and his illness was not one that would send him to an early grave the way theirs had. Sanemi was strong, a hashira. He spent his life killing demons. It wouldn’t be some chance illness that claimed his life.    

Minutes stretched long, and the last of the dying light of sunset vanished. Giyuu needed to get up and cook—Sanemi needed to eat something to keep up his strength. Despite knowing that, Giyuu couldn’t bring himself to leave Sanemi, not yet, not while the twinges of fear were still fresh in his mind. He stayed still, listening to Sanemi’s steady breath, feeling the rise and fall of his back under one hand. His thoughts turned slowly. 

Stubborn Sanemi, always one to insist on caring for others and never consenting to be cared for himself. Giyuu frowned up at the ceiling. He’d been agreeable tonight though, save for some of his usual grumbling. He’d only fought Giyuu on seeing to his injury. Giyuu glanced down. He could just see the end of the fresh bandage that Sanemi had placed after his bath through the gap in his yukata. His mind bounced around, the word infection swirling around his head. 

What if Sanemi’s wound was infected? What if that was the cause of his illness? Granted, Giyuu wouldn’t claim to know much about these things, but still, it was plausible wasn’t it? The temptation to just check the injury quickly while the man slept itched in his mind, but Giyuu knew he desperately needed the rest. He didn’t want to accidentally disturb him, and he would be waking him shortly with a meal regardless. He would insist on seeing it then, he decided. 

Gently lifting Sanemi’s head, he laid it on the pillow and then drew the blanket up to his shoulders. He got to his feet silently, and padded to the door, pausing to give Sanemi one more look, his sleeping form quietly snoring. His lips turned up in a fond smile, and he slid the door closed, hiding Sanemi from sight. 

. . .

Sanemi felt a hand on his shoulder, gently jostling him. He felt it as though from far away, the movement struggling to breach the haze that had settled over him like heavy fog. The insistent pull of sleep tried to reject the asshole that was trying to wake him up and he growled, curling tighter in an attempt to escape the unwanted touch. 

The asshole in question was persistent, though, and now they were talking, saying his name quietly, and it wasn’t just some asshole, but a familiar voice that broke through the confusion and tugged at his heart. Sanemi’s eyes fluttered open to see Giyuu settled over him, brow furrowed in worry as his eyes traced Sanemi’s face. 

“Hey…” Giyuu’s hand landed on Sanemi’s forehead. His touch was cool and soft, and Sanemi wanted to lean into it. Too soon, though, Giyuu drew away. “The food is ready, you should eat,” he said softly. 

Sanemi grunted in response, laying there a moment more to orient himself before pushing himself upright. He started to stand when a wave of vertigo hit him, sending the room tilting, and he had to throw an arm out to avoid going face-first into the floor. Giyuu caught Sanemi's shoulder, supporting him. 

"Are you alright?" he asked quickly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sanemi said in a rough voice, blinking and shaking his head once. "Just still waking up." 

"Maybe you should stay here—I can bring food to you," Giyuu suggested, pushing him back down when he moved to make a second attempt at getting to his feet. 

With a snort, Sanemi pushed Giyuu’s hand away and got up. The lightheaded feeling lingered, but he was a little steadier on his feet now. He gestured to the door and said, "Stop talking, let's go." 

Giyuu gave a longsuffering sigh, but trudged out of the room, Sanemi following a few steps behind at a slower pace. The smell of miso and salmon drifted down the hall from the kitchen. It should have made his mouth water and his stomach growl, especially considering that he hadn't eaten since... When had it been? He'd skipped breakfast that day, not having much appetite, and traveled straight through lunch in his eagerness to get home. Yesterday afternoon, then, maybe? He should have been starving, but the familiar scents only made his stomach clench uncomfortably. Still, he knew he needed to eat eventually. And it would be rude to decline the food Giyuu had made. 

"How did your injury happen?" Giyuu asked suddenly as they reached the kitchen. Giyuu dished out portions of rice, salmon and miso soup, pouring each of them steaming cups of tea. 

Sanemi grimaced, lifting his hand to touch the tender wounds in his side. He felt slight warmth radiating from them through the bandage and thin fabric of his yukata, and made a note to check it when he had a moment alone without Giyuu hovering. Dropping his hand, he accepted the tray that Giyuu handed to him.

"It was a stupid mistake," Sanemi grumbled, "The demon was weak as hell, but it was fast. It barely even tried to fight, just darted around, dodging my attacks. It knew it wasn’t going to win, but it took a chance.” He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers. “Its nails were long, really long, so the bastard managed to catch me. It paid for it, though. Getting that close let me take its head.” He snorted and shook his head. “Idiot. It should have just run." 

Giyuu nodded in understanding. “Will you let me look at it now?”

Sanemi glared at Giyuu, but Giyuu only met it with quiet determination, blue eyes unyielding. “Shit, fine, can it wait until after we eat at least?” Sanemi asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

Giyuu’s expression softened slightly in satisfaction and he nodded, then took his own tray in hand and they went out onto the engawa at the rear of the house facing the training yard and the gardens that bordered it along one side.

They often took their evening meal outside, enjoying the peace and quiet, though it wasn’t generally this late. Rather than a sunset, the backdrop for their meal was a sky full of stars, a thin sliver of silver moon rising over the trees. Lanterns hanging from the awning provided them enough light to see, and they fell into comfortable silence as Giyuu began to eat.    

Looking down at his own food, a mild wave of nausea made Sanemi want to shove the food away from him. He schooled his expression, breathing slowly as he picked at his rice with his chopsticks. He was painfully aware of Giyuu, casting expectant glances at him the longer he went without taking a bite.

Determined to not worry the Water Hashira any more than necessary, Sanemi held his breath and took a quick bite, chewing fast, swallowing hard. The food tasted off, all texture and no flavor. It slid down Sanemi's throat, the unpleasant sensation worsening his nausea margin by margin.

The food itself wasn’t the problem. Giyuu had made this same meal dozens of times, and Sanemi knew what it should taste like. He frowned at the bite of salmon between his chopsticks, forcing himself to eat it a moment later. The flaky texture was like ash on his tongue, and he wanted to spit it out. He forced himself to keep eating. Every bite was worse than the last, making his stomach turn in protest that was getting louder by the moment.

Ultimately, the meal was a losing battle. Sanemi managed to eat a little less than half of what he’d been given before he pushed the tray aside in defeat. Tipping his head back against the wall, Sanemi closed his eyes and tried to focus on getting his stomach to settle. He just had to keep the food down, that was what mattered. Easier said than done, given that his stomach felt like it was doing damn cartwheels in his lower abdomen, the nausea developing into an ache that made him want to curl up on the engawa. The pull of his abdominal muscles engaging reflexively aggravated his injury, and it throbbed with its own sort of heart beat on his side. 

A cool hand pressed against his forehead and he flinched away from it, eyes cracking open to see Giyuu settled close to his side, head tilted in concern. 

"Stop looking at me like that. I'm fine," Sanemi spat, his tone made harsh by the discomfort through his body.

Giyuu narrowed his eyes and retorted, "You keep saying that, but clearly you’re not." He leaned back against the wall beside Sanemi. "If you have an illness, you should go see Shinobu. There’s no reason not to except for pride—" 

"I'm not going to Shinobu for a damn cold, Giyuu," Sanemi growled, his words biting. 

Giyuu’s mouth snapped shut. He looked away from Sanemi, blue gaze fixing on the yard beyond. Silence settled like a shroud over them, broken only by the sounds of water flowing from the small waterfall in the gardens, emptying into the stream that ran along its border and into a small pond filled with koi. Night birds sang, crickets accompanying them with their own music.

Sanemi cleared his throat after several minutes, cutting through the silence. "Sorry, I just..." 

"You're tired. And you’re probably right. There’s no reason to bother Shinobu with a cold. It's fine," Giyuu replied. His tone was reserved, and his expression was flat, his thoughts and emotions masked. Sanemi hated it when he did this. He hated it more when he knew that it was his fault. Before he could do anything to fix it though, Giyuu was getting to his feet. He gathered their trays and said, “I’ll clean this up. You should go back to bed." He opened the door, then hesitated and looked back at Sanemi, traces of his concern breaking through the stoicism. For a moment he looked like he might say something, but whatever it was he kept it to himself, disappearing inside. 

Sanemi didn’t move, the nauseating ache in his gut persisted while the guilt from snapping at Giyuu weighed on his heart. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through it, telling himself he’d get up, he only needed a moment.

He didn't realize he’d dozed off again until he felt Giyuu pull his arm over his shoulders and drag him to his feet. Too tired to complain or argue, he allowed Giyuu to take him back to the bedroom, settling him onto the futon once again before shuffling under the covers himself. Sanemi melted into Giyuu as he pulled him into his arms, his head returning to Giyuu’s chest. The steady thump of Giyuu’s heart lulled him quickly to sleep. 

. . .

The next day dawned bright and warm. The sun streamed through the window, falling across Sanemi’s face and drawing him from sleep. Lying still for a moment, he tried to assess himself. He barely remembered Giyuu helping him back to the bedroom, didn’t remember falling asleep at all. His head felt a fuzzy and disjointed.

Gradually, he forced his eyes open, wincing against the bright sunlight. Too bright. He shielded his eyes, then looked around. He was alone in the room, and the smells of food were wafting through the estate. Giyuu must already be up and about for the day. He should have woken him, Sanemi thought with frustration. He couldn’t just sleep the entire day away. 

Allowing himself just another moment, Sanemi finally rolled to his side and pushed himself upright. He gasped as his arm shook and then gave out, sending him slumping back to the floor. The room spun around him vaguely, and his stomach jumped and flipped with the vertigo. Sanemi squeezed his eyes shut tight and waited for it to pass, swallowing the feeling of his stomach rising up his throat, the taste of bile bitter on the back of his tongue. 

Weak, he berated himself, what the hell is wrong with you. 

It took another couple minutes, but Sanemi finally managed to get himself to his feet. He shuffled out of the room, a hand trailing the wall for balance. Even still, he stumbled once as he entered the kitchen, and it was only by sheer luck that Giyuu, standing with his back to Sanemi as he prepared a pot of tea, didn’t see it. 

“Hey,” Sanemi said when he felt steady on his feet again. 

Giyuu perked up, looking over his shoulder. There was a warm smile on his face as he began to greet Sanemi, but it was short lived as he took in Sanemi's still haggard appearance. 

"Sanemi—" he started.

“Yeah, I know, I probably look as shitty as I feel,” he muttered, lowering himself slowly to a seat on a cushion at the table and slumping forward. He dropped his head into his hands and admitted what they both already knew: "I'm fucking sick.” 

Giyuu came over and placed a bowl of rice in front of him along with a steaming cup of tea, but didn’t comment on Sanemi’s observation. 

“What, you don’t want to say I told you so?” Sanemi grumbled, raising his head and eyeing him. 

“What would that accomplish?” Giyuu asked. His expression was serious, guarded, save for the barest traces of concern and sympathy in his eyes. He briefly touched Sanemi’s hair, then trailed his hand over his shoulder as he left the table to get his own food. "Just try and get some of that in your stomach, alright?" he said without turning back. 

Sanemi nodded with a grunt. Propping his elbow on the table, setting his chin against his fist, he took the chopsticks with his other hand. His hand was shaking slightly, and he glared at it before shoving it into his rice and then bringing it back up. He hesitated, staring at the bite. Just the thought of eating it made his stomach roll in protest. 

Just eat the damn rice, he thought harshly.

Taking a deep breath, Sanemi managed to force down one bite, then another, washing them down with tea. The third bite was halfway down his throat when his body decided that eating had been a terrible idea. Giyuu's head whipped in Sanemi's direction as he heard him make a choked sound. He fumbled the chopsticks, knocking the bowl of rice over, legs tangling as he scrambled for the door. In a moment he had flung it open and collapsed to all fours at the edge of the engawa, emptying the meager contents of his stomach onto the ground. He was vaguely aware of Giyuu at his side, a hand on his back, his voice muffled and disjointed, but Sanemi couldn’t respond, couldn’t even move. His stomach clenched as he heaved over and over until there was nothing left, and still he was stuck, his muscles spasming painfully.

When the fit finally passed, Sanemi weakly pushed himself up and collapsed back, leaning against the nearest beam supporting the awning. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, the word bitter with the sour taste of vomit on his tongue. The world spun around him and his stomach ached like he’d been punched a dozen times and kicked just for good measure. His eyelashes were damp with tears, and his body began to shake violently as exhaustion set in, the tremors rolling up and down his spine.  

"Water," Giyuu said, pushing a cup into his hands, a steadying hand on his shoulder. Sanemi accepted it gratefully and lifted it to his lips. The first drink, he used to clear some of the bitterness from his mouth, spitting it to the side. Then he took another drink, sipping it slowly and letting it cool his burning throat. Minutes passed in tense silence, Giyuu kneeling at his side as he waited for him to finish. The moment he did, Giyuu took the cup and left to refill it. 

Sanemi closed his eyes while he waited for Giyuu to return, focusing on controlling his breath, lowering his heart rate. It was harder than it should have been, and by the time he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, he’d made very little progress at all. He opened his eyes when he sensed Giyuu at his side. The world was a blur, still spinning slightly, and Sanemi tried to focus, fixing his eyes on Giyuu’s face until finally his vision cleared. He was met with worry in Giyuu’s blue eyes. 

"We should go to the Butterfly Mansion," Giyuu murmured as he handed Sanemi the second cup of water. "Sanemi, you can’t keep ignoring this. Your fever is worse than it was last night, and now this—" 

"Giyuu stop. We talked about this. I'm not going to waste Shinobu's time," Sanemi growled. 

“You said if it got bad, you would go,” Giyuu reminded him sharply.

“It’s not bad,” Sanemi insisted, lifting a hand to rub his temples. His head was starting to ache, pain building behind his eyes and at the base of his skull. 

Giyuu knelt beside him and took his hand from his face. “How bad does it need to be then?” he asked.  

Sanemi grit his teeth and looked up at the awning above them. Sidestepping the question, he said, "You don't even know if she's there." 

"Then I'll send Sorai or Kanzaburo," Giyuu suggested. His voice was hard now, frustration breaking through his control. 

"And tell her what?" Sanemi laughed weakly, head tilting to the side. "'Kochou, Shinazugawa is sick with the fucking sniffles, please help’— Come on Giyuu, she has more important shit to deal with—" 

"You are important," Giyuu snapped sharply, cutting Sanemi off, then froze, a flush racing over his cheeks. Sanemi looked at him, blinking in surprise, and despite the tension of their argument, despite that he felt like shit, his heart warmed. He softened after a moment, reaching up to stroke Giyuu's cheek with his thumb.

"I'm fine, Giyuu," Sanemi murmured sincerely. Giyuu covered Sanemi's hand on his cheek with his own, their fingers slotting together easily. "I'm fine,” Sanemi repeated, letting go of Giyuu’s hand. “I just need to go back to bed, get some more sleep—" He started to get up as he spoke, then hissed sharply as the wound in his side sent a sharp shooting pain up through his ribs and down past his hip. 

"Damn it," Sanemi said, hunching forward, breathing shallowly through the pain. 

“What is it?” Giyuu asked, scanning him for the source of his sudden pain. Sanemi looked up with some effort and saw Giyuu’s eyes land on the spot on his side. He followed Giyuu's gaze and groaned to see spots of red soaking through his yukata. 

"You tore your stitches," Giyuu observed. Sanemi could hear him biting back his concern as he said in a flat voice, "We need to re-do them." 

Sanemi opened his mouth to protest, but Giyuu leveled him with a glare so harsh, his mouth snapped shut. He sighed, resigned to letting Giyuu do as he pleased. He didn’t fully understand why Giyuu was as concerned as he seemed to be over this. People got sick, it wasn't unusual. Fear radiated from him nevertheless, though he did his best to mask it. Sanemi decided he could give him this. Giyuu gently helped him to his feet and they made their way back through the house, Sanemi leaning more on Giyuu than he cared to admit, until they reached the bedroom.

"Take that off, I'll get you a clean one," Giyuu said, gesturing to the blood-stained yukata. 

With a wince, Sanemi followed the instructions given and carefully slipped out of the yukata, laying it over the back of a chair. A chill raced over his skin, too cold given the warm summer air that infused the estate. Goosebumps rose all over his skin. He wanted to take the blanket from their futon and bury himself in it, but he waited patiently, lowering himself to the bedding on shaking legs as he waited for Giyuu to return. He glanced down at the bandage that wrapped his torso, hiding the stitched wound from sight. It was easy to pinpoint exactly where the demon had pierced his skin, though, thanks to the dots of fresh blood that had leaked through the crisp white bandages. Sanemi grimaced and looked away. 

A few moments later, Giyuu walked back into the room with a clean yukata as well as needle, silk and fresh bandages to manage Sanemi's injury. "Alright," he said, settling at Sanemi's side. He gestured to the soiled bandage. "Let's see it."

Sanemi tried to hide a grimace as he shifted and started to slowly unwrap his bandages. He hissed through his teeth when he reached the last layer and it clung to his skin, the blood making the bandage stick slightly. He slowly peeled it back until the wound was finally exposed to the air. 

Giyuu 'tsked' as he saw the state of the wound. Four distinct puncture wounds were dug into Sanemi's lower right abdomen, the marks continuing across his side as the demon dragged its claws several inches before Sanemi took its head. Giyuu leaned closer, carefully examining the injury. At least three stitches had popped loose, the furrows opening up, fresh blood leaking to the surface. 

“This is worse than you let me believe,” Giyuu muttered, getting to work. He dabbed and cleaned away the blood that had crusted on Sanemi’s skin, trying to see better what he was dealing with and get an idea of the condition of the wound.

Sanemi shook his head, stiffening as the wound stung where Giyuu touched it gently. “It’s really not as bad as it looks,” he said through his teeth. 

Giyuu’s gaze flicked up to Sanemi, but he didn’t press the issue, looking back to the injury. There didn't appear to be any obvious signs of infection fortunately, no oozing or pus, no foul odors coming from the punctures. It looked like a well-tended wound that had simply popped a stitch. All save for one thing. There was the slightest bit of inflammation around the wound’s edges, and some purple discoloration around each puncture, almost like bruising. 

“I don’t think it’s infected,” Giyuu said after he finished looking at it, “but we should keep checking it. They’re fairly deep.” Giyuu started to thread his needle and made quick work of restitching the skin, trying to move fast and efficient to keep it as painless for Sanemi as possible. Even still, Sanemi’s hand gripped the bedding, knuckles white, until Giyuu finished.

Sanemi watched Giyuu’s face as he finished and re-wrapped the bandage. His mask was fixed firmly in place, his eyes guarded and downcast, his expression set and serious. Sanemi knew, though, that beneath the surface, he was as unsettled as the ocean during a storm. Sanemi could see worry in the crease between his brows. He could see frustration in the tight set of his jaw, a muscle ticking periodically as he clenched his teeth. Sanemi wanted to speak, wanted Giyuu to speak, but he thought that trying to speak now wouldn’t help anything. If anything, it was likely to make things worse. And the quiet was welcome, the slight throbbing in his head gradually worsening as the minutes passed. 

"I'm sending Kanzaburo to Shinobu," Giyuu stated as he gathered the needle, medical supplies, and soiled bandage and yukata. 

Breathing heavily through his nose, Sanemi looked at him with frustration, "Giyuu, we talked about this—”

“You talked. I didn’t agree,” Giyuu said, as he put the medical supplies away, threw the yukata into a basket, and the old bandage into a bin. 

“You saw it, just now,” Sanemi said, “It doesn't even look bad." 

"The injury isn’t why you need to see her,” Giyuu countered coldly, turning back and folding his arms. “You were dry heaving on the engawa so hard you tore your stitches. It’s surprising you didn’t pass out, since you could barely breathe. The fever, not being able to keep food down… It’s enough to at least ask about.”

Sanemi grimaced. He sensed that this was a battle that he wasn’t going to win in the end, but still… “Listen, I get that you’re worried,” he began placatingly. 

“Sanemi—” Giyuu sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"I get it. But look at it from the other side for just a second. It’s been less than a day. If I show up there, or drag her here, and Shinobu says all I've got is a cold, she'll never let me live it down." Sanemi chuckled, though the joke fell flat in the space between them, Giyuu resistant to Sanemi’s attempts to soothe his nerves.

Sanemi wasn’t surprised. This was nothing new, after all. How many times had they argued about Sanemi’s wellbeing?

Sanemi didn’t try to abuse his own body on missions, but he did what needed to be done. If that meant turning his blade on himself to take advantage of his marechi blood, so be it. If it meant letting a demon strike him for the opening to take its head, then he would do it. What he called necessary, Giyuu deemed recklessness. The longer they were together, the more of Giyuu’s anxieties rose to the surface, and Sanemi understood, he did. They’d both lost people they cared about, and getting close the way they had felt like exposing hearts that had already been torn out and broken until they were hardly recognizable. 

“I just want you to take your health more seriously…” Giyuu said softly. Red dusted his cheeks and tinted his ears. 

Sanemi sighed. “Giyuu,” he said, and gestured to the futon, asking him to come back. “Let’s give it another day. Just one more,” Sanemi suggested as Giyuu sat beside him. “If it gets worse, we’ll go. In the meantime, let’s just…relax. We never have time like this.” He hooked his arms around Giyuu and pulled him back against his chest, resting his cheek on his head. Giyuu’s arms settled over his, and he leaned into Sanemi.

“Tell me you’ll be alright,” Giyuu said, the words barely a whisper, vulnerable and small in a way that was so unlike him, it made something in Sanemi's heart hurt. 

Sanemi’s arms tightened around Giyuu, and he murmured into soft black hair, promising with certainty, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

. . .

They spent the rest of the day more relaxed than either of them could remember being. When they tired of lounging, tangled, on the futon, they took books and tea out onto the engawa. When the view of the garden off the engawa grew boring, they went for an easy walk along a forested path just beyond the estate, returning when Sanemi grew tired (far faster than he should have, which frustrated him, not only for how weak he felt, but for how it reignited some the worry Giyuu had been trying to stifle all day.) 

Giyuu suggested a few times that Sanemi try eating again, but he declined with each offer, unwilling to have a repeat of that morning as long as he could feel his stomach turning. The lack of food began to take its toll, though, as evening approached. He could feel his body pleading for something, anything, but the best he could manage was a little weak tea and water. His headache, which had eased some during the afternoon, returned in full force, throbbing behind his eyes, and the world felt like it was spinning around him. 

He’d meant to keep Giyuu company while he took his dinner, despite being unable to eat himself, but he thought the best thing now was to lie down and sleep again, so he excused himself from the table and made his way to the bedroom again.

At least, that had been what he’d meant to do.

Halfway there, he was hit with a dizzy spell that tilted the world sideways and he slammed hard into a wall, the sound of his body against the bamboo panels loud. His knees buckled and he slid down the wall, falling in a crumpled heap. Moments later, Giyuu rushed down the hall. 

"Sanemi!" Giyuu's voice was threaded with panic. 

"I'm fine," Sanemi spat, too harsh—Giyuu didn't deserve it—but his head was still spinning, and his shoulder where he'd slammed into the wall was aching, the pain coursing all the way down to his fingers. It was too much pain for such an insignificant injury, what should amount to barely more than a light bruise. Still, he tried to ignore all of it, pushing himself away from the wall. 

"Sanemi, you're bleeding," Giyuu said. He seemed unaffected by Sanemi's anger, crouching down and setting a hand on Sanemi's shoulder to keep him from getting up yet. Sanemi blinked in confusion. The dizziness that had sent him into the wall in the first place subsided, and Giyuu came into clearer focus. 

"What do you..." Sanemi started to ask, but then felt the warmth on his lip, the copper tang of blood on the tip of his tongue as he spoke. He reached up to his nose, touching the damp liquid there. He looked at it, confusion clouding his head. "I...must have hit it on the wall when I fell," he finally said gruffly, though he was very sure that he hadn't. Giyuu was concerned enough as it was, though, without adding to it with an ill-timed nose bleed. 

"Wait here," Giyuu said quietly, leaving quickly, returning only a minute later with a cloth that he handed to Sanemi. Sanemi nodded his thanks and pressed the cloth to his nose, then allowed Giyuu to sling his arm over his shoulders. Instinct prompted him to protest the assistance, but the truth was that his legs felt so weak, he doubted whether he actually could manage without the help. 

Giyuu was silent as they slowly made their way back to the bedroom. It wasn’t unusual, given the Water Hashira's tendency to save his words. But Sanemi could feel the concern rolling off him in waves, stronger than it had been since that morning. 

"You're worrying about nothing," Sanemi growled. 

Giyuu didn't answer, gently lowering Sanemi to the futon. Sanemi expected him to lie down beside him, but Giyuu straightened and turned as if he would leave. 

"What are you doing?" Sanemi asked, a sudden inexplicable fear of being left alone skittering across his mind and down his spine, making him tense. He tried to dismiss it, but it stuck stubbornly as he waited for Giyuu to answer.

"I have a few things to do... I'll be back in a few minutes." Giyuu's voice was flat and distant, but his eyes showed all the emotion he was keeping back. After a moment's hesitation, he returned to Sanemi and bent, pressing his lips to Sanemi's forehead. He lingered there, then straightened and left without another word. 

. . .

Giyuu's heart was racing, and he couldn't seem to calm it. He stopped down the hall from the bedroom, leaning a hand on the wall and trying to settle himself. Sanemi continued to insist he was fine, and Giyuu knew logically that he was probably right, his symptoms were nothing all that extreme. Yet he couldn’t let go of his fear, some instinct making him feel like he was choking on it. No matter what he told himself, or how many assurances Sanemi gave him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. 

Gathering himself, Giyuu went out to the garden. Their crows sat nestled side by side on a perch near the engawa, and Giyuu approached them quickly. 

"I need a message delivered," he said quietly. Both birds perked up, Kanzaburo cocking his head expectantly. "Not you this time," Giyuu said, stroking Kanzaburo's back. "Sorai."

Sorai fluffed his feathers, lifting himself and eagerly hopping onto Giyuu’s raised arm.

"I need you to go to the Butterfly Mansion, find Shinobu and tell her to come here as quickly as she can. I think something is wrong with Sanemi. He's sick with some kind of illness, but it doesn't feel normal." 

Lifting a finger to scratch at Sorai's head, the bird trilled and leaned into the touch before he flapped his wings and quickly took off to complete the request. Giyuu watched until his dark form merged into the night sky. Kanzaburo cawed, a scratchy sound, and Giyuu brushed his hand over his back. 

“It will be fine,” he said to the bird, but the words were for his own benefit.  

With Sorai off to find and, hopefully, bring back Shinobu, Giyuu took a deep breath to steady himself before turning and heading back to the bedroom. Sanemi was still sitting up, clearly waiting, but he was unsteady, practically wobbling as he struggled to keep his balance despite being seated. 

Settling beside him, Giyuu rested his hand on Sanemi's shoulder, steadying him. Though it hadn’t been more than five minutes since he’d been gone, Sanemi’s state seemed slightly worse. He barely looked at Giyuu, and his cheeks were red, contrasting harshly with the rest of his skin that seemed too pale. His eyes were sunken in, pits in a face that was too gaunt, dark shadows like bruises beneath them. 

"Sanemi?" Giyuu cursed the way his voice came out, its thin timbre doing nothing to hide the fear etched deeply throughout his body as if it had been carved into his bones.  

"'M fine..." Sanemi blinked and finally looked up, seeming to come back to himself somewhat. His voice was dry and rough. Water, Giyuu thought. He needed water. But first, Sanemi needed to lie down. He held Sanemi’s shoulders and gently eased him down onto the futon. 

"Just try and rest alright?" Giyuu said, “I’ll bring you something to drink.” 

"Where did you go?" His voice was thick with exhaustion, eyes already starting to slip closed as he looked at Giyuu through bleary eyes. 

Giyuu shook his head, reaching out to gently brush the hair from his forehead. He frowned at the warmth radiating from his skin. It wasn’t much worse than it had been throughout the day, the same consistent heat he'd had since that morning, and he let himself hope that was a good sign, praying that it would stay that way. 

"It doesn’t matter,” he said, answering Sanemi’s question. “Just sleep." 

Leaning forward to gently place a kiss on his forehead, Giyuu watched as Sanemi lost his battle with sleep. Once he was unconscious, his body relaxed, Giyuu brought water, setting it aside for when Sanemi woke next, then settled himself on the futon beside him. Though he knew he needed to rest himself, Giyuu couldn't bring himself to fall asleep yet. He lay on his side, watching Sanemi’s chest rise and fall, one hand laid over his heart to feel it beating. He stayed up well into the night, the moon and stars passing in the sky beyond the window, before his eyelids finally grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.  

Chapter Text

Worse. Sanemi was getting worse.

Sleep should have improved things. Giyuu had hoped it would improve things. Instead, the hours that passed had only served to weaken Sanemi, his condition spiraling further and further from the bounds of what could be considered normal. 

Giyuu hadn’t realized it at first.

The morning had started off well enough. Sanemi fast asleep when Giyuu awoke to the dawn, his breath deep and slow and steady. A hand to his forehead betrayed the lingering fever, but it hadn't seemed worse then. Not wanting to disturb Sanemi's rest, Giyuu had silently slipped from their bedding and padded on bare feet out to the kitchens, quickly preparing and eating a meal, setting aside a small portion that he hoped Sanemi might be able to keep down, along with a simple broth, a few rice crackers, and a cup of water. He returned to the bedroom with his meal to find Sanemi in the exact same place, not having stirred or shifted at all. That should have been a warning. But Giyuu set the tray on the floor beside the futon, ready for Sanemi when he woke, and then quietly left. If he stayed in that room, he would selfishly wake Sanemi just to see his eyes and hear the sound of his voice. Sleep, Giyuu thought. That was what he needed most. 

So he'd busied himself. Anything to keep his mind off Sanemi. He trained, working out his stress on bamboo targets. It didn't last long, cutting his training short to check on Sanemi again. 

Still asleep. 

Still unmoving. 

Worry curdled Giyuu's stomach and sat bitter on his tongue, but he shook his head and tried to quell it. 

He sought out distraction. Odds jobs and tasks. There wasn't much that needed tending around the Wind Estate, though, so he ended up cleaning floors that were already clean, dusting furniture that wasn't dusty. Anything to occupy himself while he waited with impatience for Sanemi to wake and Shinobu to arrive. 

Where was she...? Sorai should have returned with her by now. It wasn't that far to the Butterfly Mansion. Every hour that passed without a sign of the crow built Giyuu's anxiety brick by brick, walling off any peace he might have found in the quiet morning. Finally he couldn't distract himself anymore, his chest too tight to ignore any longer. He sat and stared out the window, and he waited. Waited for the sound of Sanemi stirring. Waited for black wings to appear over the tree line. Waited, feeling helpless, useless.  

It was midday when Giyuu went to check on Sanemi as he had half a dozen times already, sliding the door to the bedroom open quietly. His eyes widened, heart leaping, to see that he was sitting up.

"You're finally awake..." Giyuu said, crossing the room quickly. "I thought you'd sleep all day." He knelt down at Sanemi's side, and relief tempered some of the concern that had been building as Sanemi nodded, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand.

"Feels like I didn't sleep at all," Sanemi sighed. His voice was slow, slightly slurred.

Giyuu hummed, then lifted a hand to touch Sanemi’s forehead, only to flinch when he got close. What the hell? He blinked, then placed his palm on Sanemi's forehead. The amount of heat radiating from his skin was staggering, like a furnace had been lit in him, the fire demanding to escape. Far too hot. When had this happened? His fever had been present, but not...not like this...only a few hours ago. 

"Your fever spiked," Giyuu said, as much to himself than Sanemi.  

"'Mm... I'm alright," Sanemi murmured, but his voice was wrong, setting off alarm bells in Giyuu's head. He touched Sanemi's cheek, turning his face to meet his eyes. Sanemi complied, but it was as if he was looking through Giyuu rather than at him. His eyes were unfocused and disoriented. Why? What had changed? Illnesses didn't progress so aggressively, did they? Giyuu cursed his own ignorance. He didn't know.

"Lie down," Giyuu told Sanemi, and Sanemi only nodded shifting to settle back down, only to flinch, a strangled sound of pain in his throat when he twisted.

"Side— My side," Sanemi hissed through his teeth. 

Giyuu nodded and quickly shucked Sanemi’s kimono off his shoulders, the fabric pooling around his waist, revealing his bandages. Carefully unwrapping them, his injury came into view, and Giyuu sucked in a sharp breath, grimacing. The punctures, seemingly uninfected and healing as expected just the night before, had taken a turn for the worse. Much worse. What Giyuu had thought was bruising was now a deeper, sickly shade of purple, the discolored skin several centimeters in diameter around each individual puncture. Faint red lines like veins extended from the wounds, vivid where they originated, and fading the further from the wound they stretched. 

“Sanemi, this isn’t right—” Giyuu started to say and glanced up, voice cutting off as he saw a slow trail of blood roll from Sanemi’s nose. The blood was dark, a red as deep as uncut garnet. 

"Here. Hold this to your nose," Giyuu said, grabbing the napkin he'd brought with Sanemi's food earlier from the tray. Sanemi accepted it from Giyuu, but then only stared at it, unmoving, so Giyuu grabbed his hand and lifted the rag to his nose. He held it there a moment to make sure Sanemi wouldn’t drop it the moment he released his grip, then turned his focus back to Sanemi's wounds. 

He cleaned and rewrapped the injury quickly, and the entire time Sanemi stayed silent. His expression was vague again, the moment of clarity brought out by the pain receding. Every single moment that passed, Giyuu found it harder to keep his fear from spiraling out of control. Wrong, wrong, wrong. The words rang like a gong in Giyuu's head, vibrating through him. This illness was wrong. It wasn't just some...cold. Giyuu wanted to curse himself for letting Sanemi talk him out of going to Shinobu sooner. 

Sanemi’s body jerked once, startling Giyuu. The cloth fell from his grasp, and he made a choked sound. 

“Sanemi?” Giyuu asked just as Sanemi’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed to his side. Giyuu cursed and dove forward, catching his head before it hit the floor. He shifted Sanemi onto his back, grabbing the rag and cleaning the blood from his nose, though it did little to stop its flow. Sanemi’s eyes beneath closed lids were moving erratically, darting as though he were trapped in a nightmare. The muscles through his body twitched, flexing and releasing, until finally he fell still. His breath that had been fast and shallow stuttered, stalling, then resuming. Giyuu put his hand on Sanemi’s cheek and patted it sharply, trying to snap him back to consciousness, needing to see his eyes, see the life in them, but his efforts did nothing. Beads of perspiration had formed on Sanemi’s skin, rolling down his face, and he was shivering. The fever, Giyuu knew. He had to find a way to get his fever down.  

“Damn it, Sanemi, what am I supposed to do," Giyuu hissed. He felt damp on his cheeks, and realized that some tears had slipped from his eyes. He wiped them away furiously, but he couldn’t so easily banish the fear. It was like a living thing, tearing at his stomach, clawing his throat, strangling the breath from him. Helplessly, Giyuu pulled Sanemi up and into his arms, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair, holding him close.

The call of a crow sounded somewhere outside and Giyuu looked up sharply. A moment later, Sorai appeared in the window, fluttering to a stop as he landed on the sill. 

"Sorai," Giyuu gasped with relief, "Is she here?" 

The bird tilted his head, then shook it once, and Giyuu's relief soured, disbelief warring with disappointment. "Why?" he asked, voice sharp. 

Sorai lifted his wings and dropped into the room, hopping forward before lifting his leg to show a scroll tied there. Giyuu gently lowered Sanemi back down and took the message, unfurling it with shaking fingers. 

          Tomioka,

          I've been called away on a mission a day north of the Wind Estate. I apologize that I can’t come myself until it’s complete. I can try to be of as much assistance as possible, however. Please send me Shinazugawa's symptoms so I may advise you. Don't spare any details.

          -Shinobu

Giyuu clenched the letter in his hands, looked at Sorai, then at Sanemi. Without any delay he hurried through the estate, gathering pen and paper. 

Kochou, he began, then paused and considered everything that had occurred since Sanemi came home from his mission a little less than two days ago. With everything in mind, he wrote quickly. He described Sanemi's wound, its color, its appearance, how it had occurred, and how it had changed overnight. Then he explained the sudden onset of Sanemi's symptoms, how quickly they had developed, how much they'd worsened in just a day. Fever. Dizziness. Inability to keep down food. Nosebleeds. And now passing out. He hesitated, then added that Sanemi's blood seemed off-color, too rich a maroon, several shades darker than blood ought to be. 

"Sorai," Giyuu said, voice strained. The bird came to him. He seemed to sense Giyuu’s urgency and immediately raised his leg. Giyuu rolled up the scroll tightly and secured it, checking and double checking the knot before he ushered the bird towards the window. "Back to Shinobu. Fly fast," he whispered. Sorai nodded, and Giyuu thought he saw some of his fear reflected in the avian's dark eyes. Without another sound, Sorai raised his wings and took off, wings cutting through the air, pushing hard, vanishing out of sight beyond the trees.  

Behind Giyuu, Sanemi coughed. He’d rolled to his side and raised himself onto one elbow. Giyuu winced at the awful sound, a wet hacking that ripped from his lungs, leaving Sanemi gasping. Still, Giyuu was grateful that he'd regained consciousness so quickly. He drew close and stroked Sanemi's back while he tried to catch his breath. Flecks of red were speckled across the floor, dotting Sanemi's lips. Giyuu grabbed a fresh napkin and the cup of water, and he waited for the coughing to subside. There was nothing else he could do.

Closing his eyes, Giyuu rest his forehead against Sanemi’s shoulder and tried to not allow himself to unravel. Sanemi needed him to be strong. He didn’t need Giyuu to uselessly panic, despite that panic was the only thing Giyuu could seem to feel.

When the last of the coughing finally worked itself out, Sanemi took a drink of the water, wiped his lips, then collapsed back onto the futon. Giyuu slid into the bed beside him and pulled him close. Lifting a shaking hand, Sanemi gripped Giyuu's arm, holding it tight as if he might disappear. 

"Don't go anywhere," he said. His voice was low, scraping painfully. "Stay with me, please."  

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere... It's going to be okay," Giyuu murmured against Sanemi’s forehead. "You'll be okay." He wasn't sure if he was reassuring Sanemi, or if the words were spoken to his own heart, beating so hard it hurt. Either way, they felt hollow in his own ears. 

The minutes passed like hours. Giyuu held Sanemi, unwilling to get up again despite the sun passing across the sky, the day slipping away, too afraid to let him go. He clung to every shuddering breath Sanemi took. Surely, he thought, this had to pass soon. Surely, the fever had to be close to breaking. Surely, he had to start getting better. But he didn't. His skin was so hot, Giyuu knew he had to do something to cool him down, but he had no idea how to go about it short of dumping Sanemi into a cold bath, and he wondered if that would do more harm than good. 

Giyuu grimaced, staring up at the ceiling. He felt stupid and useless, and his memories haunted him. He was just a child again, wanting to help, wanting to do something, anything. In the end, all he could do was watch as his parents slowly succumbed to their own illnesses, withering away to nothing despite the best efforts of healers and doctors to save them. They left them alone, he and Tsutako, going to a place they couldn’t follow. 

They’d thought it was simply a cold too. 

Giyuu squeezed his eyes shut, and tears pricked at them, one escaping and slipping over his cheek. He wouldn’t let Sanemi go the way his parents had. He wouldn’t lose him like that, he promised himself. The thought did nothing to comfort him. 

. . .

Waiting to hear from Shinobu, the hours passed at a crawl. Sanemi’s fever raged, his pillow and sheets drenched with sweat, despite that he shivered violently as if he were freezing. Giyuu used rags soaked in cool water, placing them on his head, over his chest, covering his arms, hoping that the coolness would seep through his skin and calm the heat that coursed unchecked through his veins.

Every time Sanemi regained enough consciousness, Giyuu took advantage of it, pressing a cup to his mouth, gently tipping his head until the water slipped past dry, chapped lips and down his throat. Though Giyuu tried to speak to him in those moments, more and more Sanemi seemed lost when he woke, unaware, at least until his he saw Giyuu. Some lucidity would creep back into his gaze when their eyes met, and a trace of his attitude would find its way into a ghost of his smirk.

“Still worrying,” he muttered once, reaching up and brushing Giyuu’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You always worry too much.”

Giyuu didn’t have it in him to argue with Sanemi, not when he had no idea how long the moment would last, so he took the hand brushing his face and kissed his palm, cherishing the minutes until Sanemi fell back asleep.     

The strange fit of convulsions that Sanemi had earlier in the day came back once as afternoon turned to evening, and then again with the moon began to rise, and a fourth time as the hour approached midnight. The time between the fits was growing shorter, the violence of them getting stronger. Every time, Giyuu tried to steady Sanemi, waiting the agonizing minutes until the fit passed and he fell back into restless slumber. 

Sorai arrived sometime in the earliest hours of morning. Giyuu was still awake, pacing the hall outside Sanemi’s bedroom when the bird flew through an open window, a scroll attached to his leg and a small bundle held in his beak.

"Finally," Giyuu whispered, taking the scroll from Sorai’s leg quickly, opening it so fast that that it tore along one edge. He held it up beneath a lantern to read. He scanned the letter quickly, once, twice, reading and rereading, certain words leaping from the black ink, standing in sharp contrast with the off-white paper. 

Demon Claws… Infected wound…

Poison.

No. That couldn't be right. Giyuu’s heart fell as he read the letter a third time and let the information settle on his shoulders: Shinobu thought that Sanemi was suffering the effects of demonic poison that had coated the monster’s claws. Giyuu tipped his head back in aggravation. No wonder the demon had accepted its death for a chance to get them into Sanemi’s side. But if that was the case then... Then what did that mean for Sanemi? Giyuu felt sick. Slayers rarely overcame demonic poison. He had to pray she was wrong.

Fortunately, she’d given him a way to test her theory.  

It's a simple test. Touch his blood with your katana, Shinobu wrote in a tidy scrawl, If his blood has demonic traces, the blood will smoke on contact with a nichirin blade. If the test is positive, use the herbs I’ve sent. Brewed into a tea, they may slow the progression of the poison. 

Giyuu picked up the bundle Sorai had dropped, holding it in his fist, feeling the dried herbs beneath the soft fabric of the bag, hearing them shift and crunch. 

Shinobu closed the letter, I’m a day away by foot, but will be there as quickly as I can be. Giyuu frowned, almost able to hear her voice, clinical, professional, but sad, as he read: Bear in mind that if my suspicions are correct, the best you may be able to do for Shinazugawa is keep him comfortable. 

She signed off without any other advice or recommendation. Giyuu gripped the paper tighter in his hands. Pragmatic, he thought. Of course, no matter what she felt, Shinobu would face facts. Of course she would tell Giyuu to be prepared for the worst possible outcome. Shinobu was always so sensible. But she didn't understand... Sanemi couldn’t—Giyuu couldn't even think the word. He refused to. He wouldn't allow Sanemi to leave him. He would get better. Giyuu would make sure of it.

He read over Shinobu's instructions once more on how to test Sanemi's blood. Straightforward enough, he thought. He retrieved his katana from where it was placed in its place, mounted on the wall, then went back into Sanemi’s room. He was still sleeping, restlessly now. His expression was creased with discomfort, and the rags that Giyuu had placed to cool him had slipped off his forehead and from his neck.

Kneeling at his side, Giyuu unsheathed his blade and lifted Sanemi's arm, laying his blade across scarred skin. He winced before he drew the blade down. One cut, that was all that was needed. One small cut, just enough to bleed. He dragged his blade slowly over Sanemi’s arm. Sanemi flinched, but even a blade opening a line across his forearm didn’t wake him. Blood welled readily to the surface, even darker than before, deep as wine, nearly black in the dark. It ran over the edge of Giyuu’s katana and looked on in dismay as it immediately it began to sizzle, blackening and throwing out pieces of cinder. Giyuu drew the blade away and quickly pressed one of the fallen damp rags to the cut. 

The confirmation of Shinobu's suspicions settled like a cold lump in Giyuu’s chest. Not a cold. He'd been right all along. Shinobu, too, had recognized the symptoms for what they were. Sanemi wasn’t sick. This wasn’t just an illness.

Sanemi was poisoned. 

Worse... If Giyuu didn't find a way to stop the progression of the poison, then…

Then Sanemi was dying. 

The thought struck Giyuu like a knife to his gut and twisted.  

Sanemi was dying. 

Sanemi was going to die. 

Sanemi was— 

Giyuu closed his eyes tight, thoughts racing. No. Sanemi was not going to die. Giyuu still had time. He could still fix this. 

Hurrying to the kitchen, Giyuu quickly prepared the herbal tea that Shinobu had sent, moving too fast and burning his hand on the open flame, almost scalding himself again when he spilled the hot water in his haste and distraction. Distraction because, as he prepared the drink, an idea began to form in his head. Perhaps not a good idea. Perhaps a stupid, foolish idea. But better than nothing, surely. And possibly Sanemi’s only hope. 

When he brought the tea back to Sanemi's room, he found him with his eyes open, blinking slowly up at the ceiling. Relief at seeing him awake warred with conflict. What did he tell Sanemi? Giyuu spoke softly as he approached, "I have some tea for you." He settled beside Sanemi, using one hand to hold the tea while the other eased behind Sanemi’s back and slowly helped him sit upright. The entire time, Sanemi watched him, but there was little recognition in his eyes this time. He blinked like he was trying to focus, confusion clouding lavender irises. Despite his disorientation, when Giyuu offered him the cup, he accepted it and lifted it to his lips without complaint, sipping it a bit at a time, sometimes pausing until Giyuu encouraged him to continue. It took him a long time to finish the small cup, and when it was empty, Giyuu refilled it and set it to the side of the futon for Sanemi to drink when he wanted. 

“Get some more rest. The tea should help some,” Giyuu said, though it was unclear how much of what he said was registering. Giyuu started to get to his feet, but Sanemi lifted a shaking hand and it landed on Giyuu’s arm, gripping the fabric of his yukata weakly. Giyuu set his hand atop of Sanemi's, but Sanemi pulled his hand away again with a jerk. He tilted his head, the confusion Giyuu had seen in his expression sharpening. 

Giyuu drew back slightly. He’d realized that Sanemi’s mind was unsteady, but it didn’t lessen the sting when Sanemi slurred the question, "Who are you...?"

“I’m…” Giyuu started. But what was he supposed to say? Sanemi didn’t wait for him to continue. His brow furrowed and he shook his head. 

"Genya? Where's Genya? I need him..." He shifted, pushing the blankets away from his lap as if he would get up and go looking. When his balance failed, he grabbed Giyuu’s arm again. His grip was frail, pathetic compared to the strength Sanemi ought to be capable of. Sanemi touched his forehead with his free hand, his bloodshot eyes flickering. "Genya. He's my... baby brother. I've gotta find him..."  

“Okay,” Giyuu said, his heart aching at the words. Gently pulling Sanemi’s hand from his arm he encouraged him to lie back down. “I’ll find Genya for you,” Giyuu promised, hesitantly reaching for Sanemi’s face and, when he didn’t glare and flinch away, brushing the hair off his forehead, the skin sticky and damp. “I’ll tell him to come here right away.” 

"Mmm, here?" Sanemi asked, his eyelids growing heavy. “You’ll tell him to come here?”

Giyuu nodded and pushed his fingers through Sanemi’s hair, soothing as he reassured, “I’ll go look for him now." 

“Good,” Sanemi sighed, his head settling deeper into his pillow.

Between the warm tea, the hand carding through his hair, the fever and the exhaustion caused by the poison infecting Sanemi’s system, it took Sanemi only minutes to fall back asleep, his eyes finally closing, his face relaxing again. Giyuu stayed by his side until his breath slowed and evened some, making sure he wasn’t about to wake again. He felt reluctant to leave, but there was no time to be wasted. He pulled his fingers from Sanemi’s hair and bent down, pressing his lips to his forehead, then got to his feet.  

“Sorai,” Giyuu said. The crow, nestled at the head of the futon, snapped his head in Giyuu’s direction. The bird’s eyes seemed worried, though Giyuu wasn’t sure if crows were capable of such emotions. Still he tilted his head, eager for instruction, as if he wanted to help his master, as if he knew how dire the situation was. “I have to go out. If he gets worse, come and find me immediately.” 

Sorai nodded once, feathers fluffing up and then relaxing as he settled closer to Sanemi, his black body nestled on the pillow, head resting on Sanemi’s. 

Giyuu exchanged sleepwear for his Corps uniform, tugging on his haori last before grabbing his katana and hurrying out the door, across the gardens, to the gate. He walked quickly. The sun would be up in less than five hours, and he had to find what he was looking for before then. 

Kanzaburo flew down from the gate of the Wind Estate and landed on Giyuu’s shoulder. 

“Fly ahead,” Giyuu said to him. “We need a demon—if you find any trace, come back.” 

With a nod, Kanzaburo lifted his wings and unsteadily shoved off of Giyuu’s shoulder again, taking a moment to right himself before he disappeared from sight. 

Giyuu followed the road until he was out of the immediate territory of the Wind Estate, then he stepped off the path and headed into the trees, all senses attuned to hunting a demon. After all, if a demon was the cause of Sanemi’s condition, then maybe a demon would have a solution. If Giyuu could find one, quickly. If he could leverage it into helping. Then maybe... 

Maybe Sanemi still had a chance.

Giyuu trekked west, and the minutes ticked by. Kanzaburo checked back in periodically, but only to inform Giyuu that the forest was quiet without any sign of demonic activity. Giyuu’s frustration grew with every fruitless report. He didn't want to leave Sanemi alone for long. He needed to get this done, find a demon, and quickly. 

Wandered deeper into the forest, senses alert, Giyuu didn’t let himself think about what he would do if he couldn’t find a demon. Not finding one wasn't an option. Please, he prayed to whatever deity might listen, willing them to lead him to what he sought. If anyone out there was listening to his silent pleas, surely they must have never received a prayer so strange as one begging for the appearance of a demon. But they ought to understand. He needed this. He had to save Sanemi, and he didn't know any other way. 

An hour into his search, he found himself on the outskirts of a village nestled into the side of the mountain. He paused, looking over the sleepy sprawl of buildings, dark save for some flickering lanterns in windows and on porches. He entered the village, sticking to shadows. It was quiet, with no obvious sign that any demon was using this village as a hunting ground. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one close by though… 

Giyuu looked down at the katana at his hip. Sanemi drew demons to himself easily, pulling them like moths to flame with the scent of his blood. Giyuu was no marechi, and he would never be so reckless as to harm himself on the off-chance his blood may lure a demon to him faster. But time mattered now, and he needed a demon quickly. Perhaps blood was the best way to do it, though without the potency that Sanemi’s blood had, Giyuu was unsure if it would even work. Still, he would try anything.  

Unsheathing his katana, Giyuu lifted his arm and rolled the sleeve of his uniform up. In one quick slice, he cut across his arm, the blade passing through his flesh like a knife through soft butter. It stung fiercely, but he barely flinched at the pain sprinting along his nerves. He watched as blood immediately welled to the surface, running down his arm to his elbow and dripping onto the packed earth of the road. Re-sheathing his blade, he began walking again, holding his arm out, letting the blood fall in a trail behind him. 

Come on, he thought, smell it. Come find me. 

He wound through the village aimlessly, one end to the other. By the time he had nearly completed his circuit of the town, he felt discouragement weighing him down. There was no demon here, and he was going to run out of time. The sun would come up soon, and then no demons would be out, not until the following night. By then, Giyuu felt sure it would be too late. He needed to return to the Wind Estate and try to find another way. 

The blood on his arm had finally congealed into a messy scab, soft, but set enough that Giyuu rolled his sleeve down. Trudging back through the town, Giyuu tried not to think about his failure. 

“Demon!” 

The voice was rough and old and Giyuu looked up sharply. Out of the dark, Kanzaburo appeared and crashed clumsily onto Giyuu’s shoulder. 

“Demon,” he said again, pecking at Giyuu’s head. 

“Kanzaburo,” Giyuu said, pushing his beak away. A rush of adrenaline flooded through him. “Where is it?” 

The old bird opened his mouth, then closed it. His head tilted and he looked around, left, right, turning on Giyuu’s shoulder. Giyuu suppressed a groan as he realized that the bird didn’t remember. But it must be close, and Kanzaburo wouldn’t mistake a demon for anything else. Quickly, he headed in the direction that Kanzaburo had flown from, attuning his senses. As he approached the north end of the village, he felt a shift in the air, nothing discernable to someone untrained, but Giyuu could feel it. A demon nearby, just as Kanzaburo had said.

Triumph thrilled through Giyuu. Luck was on his side, and he let that fill him with confidence. It was a good sign. 

Giyuu tried to hone in on the demon.

It was difficult to describe exactly what it was that the Hashira and more experienced lower rank slayers felt when they sensed demons. There was a change in the air, tension, like the drawing tight of an invisible net around him. The hair on his neck prickled and stood on end, instinct warning him—the prey—that a predator was close. Giyuu followed the feeling, slowing as it strengthened, pausing when he reached the mouth of an alley. He glanced into the dark, then entered. It was a small space, narrow, with little more than a handspan to either side of him. He would struggle to draw his blade in here. No doubt the demon had chosen it for exactly that reason. But that was fine. In fact, it was better. Giyuu didn’t want to kill this demon, not right away. He needed it to think it had the upper hand. He needed it to be confident. He needed it to talk. 

Above him, the silver disc of the moon disappeared behind a cloud. All at once the alley fell pitch black, and Giyuu’s visibility diminished to almost nothing. He paused, blinking, waiting for his eyes to adjust as much as they could before he moved forward with more caution. A few more steps and he reached a wall of boxes, impassable if he didn't want to climb or move them. There was no demon in the alley. Had it moved? Or was it above? Giyuu looked up at the buildings. They weren’t very tall, he could likely scale them. With a frown, Giyuu turned to look for a way up and froze. 

At the mouth of the alley a hunched silhouette stood still as a statue. 

Finally, Giyuu thought, hand landing on the hilt of his katana, though he made no move to draw it. 

"Backed yourself into a corner, slayer,” the demon said. Its voice was high pitched and breathy. It slid unpleasantly through Giyuu’s ears. “I thought you lot were supposed to be good at this."  

Giyuu ignored the jibe and approached the demon. It stayed frozen, though a wheezing laugh echoed from its mouth, bouncing wall to wall. When Giyuu had closed half the distance between them, the demon suddenly moved, darting forward, then scurrying up the alley wall like a lizard. It was fast, faster than Giyuu's eyes could have followed if he hadn't trained himself for such things. Still he did nothing to defend himself, feigning an expression of surprise as the demon suddenly dropped to the ground directly in front of him. With both hands, the demon shoved Giyuu against the alley wall.

They stood face to face. Giyuu felt the rough wooden wall at his back. The demon's eyes were like amber lanterns, shining out of a narrow, drawn face. Curling tusks jutted from its mouth, keeping its jaws perpetually parted, trails of sticky saliva dripping from its maw. Putrid breathe huffed through its teeth, turning Giyuu’s stomach. 

"Not even going to put up a fight?" the demon chortled, "At least pretend to value your life, human—" The demon’s voice cut off suddenly as he took a deep breath. His lip curled in a sneer, and he said, "Unless you're already dead... You reek of poison." Giyuu stiffened, anticipation racing through him at the mention of poison. The demon leaned closer, scenting him through its open mouth. It hummed in amusement after a moment. "No, no...not your blood that's got the taint. Someone close to you, though. It's all over your clothes, your skin." The demon laughed again, sharper, spit flying from its mouth, dotting Giyuu’s face. Rage simmered beneath his skin as Giyuu thought of Sanemi back at the Wind Estate, beset by demonic poison, dying because of it, while this demon laughed. 

"How do you counter it?" Giyuu asked in a flat voice, hand twitching towards his katana. 

"Counter it!?" the demon crowed, a clawed hand patting Giyuu's cheek. Giyuu flinched away from the touch, but the demon was undeterred. It taunted, "Poison so potent that it lingers this way should have killed your friend in hours. There's no countering it, even if they managed to survive this long. No, no, little slayer, there's nothing to do but wait for them to die." A cackle erupted from it, shoulders shaking.

Giyuu's heart went cold. Nothing to be done? That couldn’t be true. Demons lied. The demon had to be lying. There had to be some way to make the poison inert, to stop it from progressing, to save Sanemi. 

"Don't worry, you'll not have to watch it happen," the demon trilled, lips rolling back, baring more of its fangs to Giyuu, "and your friend will be joining you soon in hell—"

Giyuu's hand gripped his katana and he drew it straight up, the hilt slamming into the demon's jaw so hard that several of its teeth cracked with the impact. It howled in surprise and pain. Breathing sharply, Giyuu twisted his blade, once, twice, sharp diagonal cuts, slashing through the demon’s arms and legs. Suddenly without its limbs, the demon collapsed in a heap to the ground, little more than a torso and head with useless, uneven stumps. It screeched, a horrid sound that echoed into the night. Surely, it would wake the inhabitants of the buildings around them, but if they were wise, they would stay inside. The demon began to regenerate but it was slow, too weak for any amount of speed. It lay on the ground, staring up at Giyuu, neck straining as it swung its head side to side. Giyuu crouched over it and laid his blade across its neck. 

"Tell me how to counter the poison, and you'll live," Giyuu told the pathetic creature staring up at him, all its bravado lost to wide-eyed terror. 

"There's no way, there's no way to do it, not that I know," the demon whimpered, hissing in pain and fear as Giyuu's blade bit into its neck. 

"Try again," Giyuu prompted. 

The demon moaned, a pathetic, guttural sound. "I don't know a way," it insisted, "But perhaps a stronger demon. An older demon. One of the twelve moons. They would know!" Giyuu stared at the demon, trying to determine if there was any truth to its words. At his silence, the demon continued babbling desperately. “I’ll show you how to find one. I’ll lead you to them. I know where there’s a nest, a way into the castle—” Giyuu stood and without another word, his katana passed through the demon’s neck, cutting off its words with a choked gurgle, blood spraying from its throat and pouring from its parted jaws.

Giyuu left the alley as it pleaded behind him, sobbing and incoherent, its body disintegrating to ash. 

Giyuu hurried back to the Wind Estate. He’d found what he’d been looking for, fruitless as it had been, but it left him at an impasse. He didn’t have time to follow the demon’s advice now, not with sunrise less then two hours away. He had to get back to Sanemi, check his condition, and then move forward from there. He trusted that Sanemi must be similar to the state he’d been left in, or Sorai would have found him. The crow was loyal to a fault, and wouldn’t have hesitated at the slightest sign of trouble. The thought did little to comfort Giyuu though. His mind spun from thought to thought, chaotic and unsettled, his usual calm elusive no matter how he tried to grasp it. 

How was he meant to fix this, then?

There must be a way. He just had to find it. Check on Sanemi, then go looking for another demon? Finding a demon during the day was near-impossible. They hid like cockroaches from the sun that would end their lives as quickly as a nichirin blade. Still, wouldn’t it be better to try than to sit helplessly, just waiting for the poison to consume what was left of Sanemi’s life? 

He didn't know. Check on Sanemi first, he told himself, then decide. 

Giyuu was practically jogging by the time the estate came into view. The sky was beginning to lighten, deep navy skies softening as the sun approached the eastern horizon. Giyuu slowed only marginally as he passed through the gate and into the house, passing through the halls and rooms as he went straight to Sanemi. 

Sliding the door of the bedroom open, Giyuu froze, eyes widening. Sanemi was awake, not only awake, but sitting up and looking more alert than he had the entirety of the previous afternoon and night. He was still unbalanced, his body swaying slightly, but his bloodshot gaze was lucid, fixed on the crow curled up in his lap. His hand traced over the bird’s head and down his back in long smooth strokes. Sorai trilled gently as Sanemi’s fingers rubbed the side of his head. 

Sanemi looked up a moment later as Giyuu crossed the room and dropped to his knees, pulling Sanemi into a tight hug. Sorai squawked a complaint but hopped away from Sanemi so that Giyuu could pull him closer. The Wind Hashira didn’t seem surprised by the embrace, only grateful, and sank into it, resting his head on Giyuu’s shoulder. He took a deep breath, as deep as he could manage, coughing a bit at the top of the inhale. 

"Where did you go?" Sanemi croaked, his voice rough and dry. Giyuu pulled away, reached for the tea still at the side of the futon, long gone cold, and held it out to Sanemi, but Sanemi pushed it away, traces of his temper hovering in the drawn lines of his face. “Giyuu, I woke up more than an hour ago, you were gone. Sorai said you left. Where?”

Giyuu’s lips drew to a line and he looked away from Sanemi. Out with it. Sanemi needed to know the situation. "You're not sick..." Giyuu said, keeping a tight rein on his voice, forcing it not to tremble. 

Sanemi furrowed his brow, "That... doesn't answer my question.” 

Giyuu sighed and reached out to Sorai, standing near them, smoothing his hand over the crow’s silky feathers before he continued, "I sent Sorai to Shinobu. She’s on a mission and couldn't get here to treat you, but I told her your symptoms. She sent some instructions… I tested your blood while you were asleep.” Giyuu raised his gaze to Sanemi’s. “You were poisoned, Sanemi... Whatever demon you fought must've had it on its claws." Giyuu fell silent, waiting for Sanemi to protest or deny it or press him for more details, but to Giyuu’s surprise, Sanemi didn’t react to the information at all, just remained quiet, watching Giyuu like he expected him to say more. 

“You don’t seem surprised,” Giyuu said slowly. 

Sanemi shook his head once, resting an elbow on his knee and setting his chin in his hand. “Since I woke up, I’ve been thinking that…something was off. Doesn’t feel like a normal illness.” His lavender eyes slid back to Giyuu. “You still haven’t answered my question.”    

Hesitating, Giyuu took Sanemi’s free hand, idly tracing the lines of his palm. "Shinobu is supposed to be coming. She should be here soon, but in her message she said that she doesn’t have a way to treat you, if it is what she thinks. But I thought…” Giyuu let out a slow breath. “I thought that if it's a demonic poison, then a demon may know how to counteract it. I left to find one and get answers.” His eyes narrowed as he thought about the demon he’d found, how it had laughed as it taunted Giyuu, how it told him that Sanemi should already be dead. "The demon I found didn’t know anything. But it told me that a stronger demon, an older one, might. There’s still time, so I’m going to—" 

“No.” Sanemi’s voice was gruff as he cut Giyuu off. While Giyuu had spoken, his expression had remained stoic, though emotions had filtered one by one through his eyes. Now he seemed only resigned. 

Giyuu's grip on Sanemi’s hand tightened. "No? What do you mean, no?" 

"No, you're not going back out to hunt for demons," Sanemi huffed, his voice thin and worn. Lifting his chin from his hand, he reached for the cup of tea that he’d turned down a few minutes before, sipping it slowly before setting it aside again. Giyuu watched him. He looked so tired, every part of him bent with exhaustion despite that all he’d done in the last day was sleep. 

"Why not?” Giyuu asked, his voice a little sharper than he meant it to be, but he didn’t understand. “Sanemi this could be the only way to save you, I—" 

"Giyuu.” Sanemi cut him off a second time. He leaned forward, his forehead dropping onto Giyuu’s shoulder. He put his arms around Giyuu’s waist. “You said Shinobu would be here soon, so let's just wait for her." Sanemi’s voice terrified Giyuu, and his fear rose like bile in his throat. Sanemi didn’t sound like himself. He sounded sad. He sounded defeated. "Stay with me… Please."

Sanemi waited for Giyuu to answer, his breath shallow, feeling like it was stuck in his lungs. His body felt wrong, his muscles, his very bones, aching deeper than they ever had. His heart felt like it was stuttering in his chest with the effort of beating. Now that he knew for sure, it seemed to him that he could feel it, the poison tainting his blood like oil running through his veins, killing him slowly with every beat of his dying heart. 

"I..." Giyuu hesitated, arms loose around Sanemi as he looked towards the door, then back. "Sanemi, you have to let me do this. I need to find a way. If I don't then…" He trailed off, unable to continue, unable to say what they both knew, but neither was quite ready to accept.  

Panic gripped Sanemi as Giyuu shifted, slid his hands up Sanemi’s arms and settled them on his shoulders as if he would press Sanemi back, as if he would lay him back down, and then he would stand, and he would leave again, and he couldn’t. 

"Giyuu," Sanemi said firmly, arms around Giyuu holding him closer. He raised his head, looked up at him, captured his gaze. "You can't go," he insisted. He cursed his voice for breaking, hated how frail he sounded. But he couldn’t do anything about it. He searched Giyuu’s ocean-blue eyes and tried to convey his meaning without having to speak the truth that he felt like a stone on his chest: If Giyuu left now, there was every chance that Sanemi wouldn't be around when he got back. He could feel it. The poison was working faster now, and Sanemi could feel his body deteriorating with every breath. 

Don’t make me go without saying goodbye, he pleaded silently with Giyuu, searching his face. 

Giyuu looked back at him with wide, stricken eyes, and tears gathered on his lashes as he understood. 

"Okay," he finally said, "I'll stay." 

“Good,” Sanemi murmured, sighing in relief, spine bowing. He swayed away from Giyuu and eased back down onto the futon, reaching for Giyuu’s arm and drawing him down to his side. "Let me hold you."

Sanemi wrapped his arms around Giyuu and held him close, stroked his hair and felt the softness of it between his fingers. Would he remember what it felt like, he wondered, when he died and went wherever broken souls ended up? Would he be able to recall the smell of Giyuu's skin, or the touch of his lips, the sound of his voice, the rare music of his laugh? Sanemi wanted to hear Giyuu laugh, but it seemed the wrong time to try and make a joke.

Another thought occurred to him, then, and his grief grew deeper. Genya.

“Hey,” Sanemi said, “I… I need you to do something if… If I don’t—”

“Sanemi,” Giyuu said sharply, not wanting Sanemi to go down the path of his thoughts. 

But Sanemi couldn’t let this go. “Just in case,” he said, “That’s all. Please, this is important.” 

Giyuu glanced up at him, chewed his lip, then nodded hesitantly. 

Sanemi took a slow breath. “If there’s nothing that can be done… If Shinobu can’t fix this. I need you to keep an eye on Genya.” 

Giyuu stiffened in Sanemi’s arms and Sanemi could see the objections flashing across his face as clearly as if they’d been spoken. You can’t ask me that. Genya doesn’t need me, he has you. You’ll be there for him yourself—don’t be foolish. But maybe he saw the desperation in Sanemi’s eyes, the fear—not for himself, but for the brother he’d spent his life trying to protect. Whatever the reason, Giyuu kept his objections in silence, and nodded. 

“If it comes to that,” he murmured, a promise carried on a voice that trembled with uncertainty. “Of course I will.” 

Sanemi sighed, relieved. No matter what happened, he could trust Giyuu with this. He lifted one hand to stroke Giyuu's cheek again, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Giyuu shuddered against him suddenly at the touch of his lips, and Sanemi's heart ached as he realized that Giyuu was crying. He was trying not to, trying to remain silent and hold back his tears, but the effort of withholding his grief wracked his body, his frame trembling in Sanemi's arms. 

“Shhh,” Sanemi breathed against Giyuu’s hair, pressing his lips to his forehead again. Giyuu curled closer to Sanemi, and one torn sob escaped. Sanemi felt tears in his own eyes. He wanted to tell Giyuu that it would be okay. He wanted to assure him that he’d get through this, that soon enough he’d be good as ever. That they had years and years ahead of them. 

He couldn’t though. 

Giyuu deserved better than a lie to comfort him now.

Instead... 

"Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?" Sanemi murmured into Giyuu's hair. 

Giyuu stilled, then shook his head. 

Sanemi hummed, closing his eyes and sinking into the memory. "I was at the butterfly mansion with Masachika after I took a few bad hits on a mission. We were waiting in the gardens, Shinobu said Kanae was busy with someone else. I was angry, being impatient—I didn't think I needed to be there, but Masachika insisted. It was taking so long, though." Sanemi paused, catching his breath, running a hand up and down Giyuu’s back. 

"Then Kanae came out onto the engawa. And right behind her...was you." Sanemi laughed weakly at the memory. "Shit, you were the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. I thought I must have hit my head harder than I realized. You couldn’t be real… I couldn't stop staring." 

"I remember this," Giyuu said, his voice rough with emotion. He shifted his face, resting his cheek against Sanemi’s chest. Sanemi opened his eyes and glanced down at him, seeing the tracks of fresh tears damp on his face. "You thought I was pretty?" Giyuu asked in a dull voice. 

"Shut up, asshole, you know I did," Sanemi teased, his voice scraping against his dry throat. The humor fell flat, crushed by the heaviness in the air around them, but Giyuu huffed a short laugh, little more than a snort, all the same. Sanemi smiled slightly, then continued, "You came into the garden, walking to the gate, and I thought I had to say something. I needed to hear you talk, and so I—"

"Asked me: Who the hell are you?" Giyuu interrupted.  

Sanemi cringed, "I don’t think I said it like that.” 

“You said it exactly like that,” Giyuu muttered. 

“Well…” Sanemi rolled his eyes “I was nervous. You try talking to yourself sometime. And you know what? You were an ass too." 

"I didn't say anything!" Giyuu protested, raising his head to look sternly at Sanemi. 

Sanemi smiled at the familiar stoic defiance in Giyuu's expression. "You gave me that look, right there," he murmured, raising his thumb to stroke Giyuu's cheek. "I was irritated, but all I could think was I'd never seen someone with eyes that were so blue."

"You made an impression," Giyuu murmured, then added, returning Sanemi’s attempt at humor, “Not a very good one.” He leaned into Sanemi’s touch, eyes slipping closed. 

Silence stretched between them, and Sanemi’s thumb on Giyuu’s cheek fell still. Regrets rippled through Sanemi, creasing his brow, pulling his grief closer to the surface. Picking up on Sanemi’s change in demeanor, Giyuu opened his eyes again. 

"Sanemi?" he asked gently.  

Sanemi’s voice was choked. "I shouldn't have been so damn stubborn... I shouldn't have pushed you away as much as I did." His hand brushed from Giyuu's cheek into his long ebony locks, tangling them around callused fingers. "If I hadn’t been such a damn fool, hadn’t been so prideful. I could have just tried to... talk. We could have had more time together." 

Giyuu's brow furrowed in sudden defiance, eyes shining as he insisted, "Sanemi, you're not going to die. Shinobu is on her way, she'll find a way to—" 

"And if she doesn't?" Sanemi interrupted. Giyuu’s mouth snapped shut. Sanemi didn’t want to be cruel. But he couldn’t let Giyuu hold onto hope like this. He couldn’t let him keep believing that Shinobu would swoop in and fix this with some miracle. He understood, Giyuu wanted to cling to the chance, however slight, that things could be okay. He wanted Sanemi to hope for that too. But Sanemi felt it, death, a taint just beneath his skin, and pretending otherwise would only break Giyuu more when Sanemi’s time ran out. 

No… 

They couldn’t keep pretending. 

He needed Giyuu to let go. 

Giyuu searched Sanemi’s face, seeing his thoughts written there, and his resolve started to shatter. Sanemi held him tighter as it began to overwhelm him.

"You can't go. I— Sanemi, I can't do it again." Giyuu's voice broke.

“You can,” Sanemi said. “You’re strong, Giyuu. You’ll be okay.” They were more than just words and idle comfort. Surviving the deaths of his parents, his sister, his best friend—Sanemi would just be one more name on a list of people that Giyuu had loved and lost. He had found the will to go on beyond each of them. He would survive this too.  

The unrelenting pull of exhaustion lapped over Sanemi’s mind like dark water, a tide pulling him out into an endless black sea. He cursed his body for not being strong enough to stay awake for longer. He wanted to stay awake, wanted to be here, conscious. He wanted to make this easier on Giyuu, as much as he could in the end, but his damn, weak body was failing, losing the battle with the demon’s poison bit by bit.  

He needed to make this time count.  

"You know..." Sanemi paused, cleared his throat, but his voice still came out as barely more than a gruff whisper as he murmured, "I used to hate the rain. Thought it was gloomy, made the job more miserable..." 

Sanemi felt Giyuu’s tears wet on his chest, almost cold against the heat of his skin. He was trembling, his breath unsteady, but Sanemi could feel his attention, feel him listening. He continued, "At some point, I started to love it though. Not sure when. But thinking about rain now…The way it looks and sounds and smells. It's beautiful. Soothing. Reminds me of home." 

Lifting his head, Giyuu's brows were furrowed, confused. Sanemi smiled softly at him, shifting his hand, using a thumb to wipe away tears that rolled down his cheeks. "People don’t always love the rain, not like I do. But they need it, Giyuu. And the thing is, whether it takes days or weeks or even months, droughts don't last forever. The rain will fall again."

Sanemi had no idea if Giyuu understood what he meant. He wasn’t even sure he understood himself. He hoped that if he didn’t now, then maybe he would later. Giyuu opened his mouth then, and Sanemi didn’t know what he was going to say, but he felt his own emotions wavering, fragile, and he couldn’t let himself break. He needed to give Giyuu whatever strength he had left now. He set a hand on Giyuu’s cheek and silenced him before he could speak, pulling him into a kiss. Deep, slow, lingering. Whatever his words had lacked, Sanemi spoke with the press of his lips, lingering, lingering, lingering, unwilling to let go of this moment when it was one of the last they would ever have. 

"You'll be okay, Giyuu," Sanemi said when they finally parted, his voice barely a whisper as he drifted, the exhaustion finally overtaking him. One more thing to say, though. One more assurance to offer. "This was always where our lives were headed,” he said, paused, then breathed, “No matter what happens, whatever comes after… I'll be waiting for you." 

The words struck deep into Giyuu's heart, agonizing, the grief that followed threatening to rip it still-beating from his chest. As Sanemi drifted into unconsciousness with one hand cradling Giyuu's head, the other wound around his waist, Giyuu pressed his ear to Sanemi's chest and listened to the weakening beat of his own heart, and clung to the promise. 

Whatever comes after, I’ll be waiting for you. 

Giyuu folded the words into his heart and held them close, let them slow his tears and keep his despair at bay. Waiting while the sky beyond the window turned from pale lavender to blush, Giyuu watched the sunrise and waited for Shinobu to come, clinging to the hope that faded as quickly as the sliver of silver moon vanished into the coming dawn that she might be able to save Sanemi. 

On the window sill, Kanzaburo watched them, head tilting curiously before he turned and flew off into the morning. 

. . .

Shinobu arrived several hours later as the sun was climbing towards its zenith. Sorai informed Giyuu of her approach, and Giyuu carefully extricated himself from Sanemi's embrace. The movement didn’t cause the slightest disturbance in his sleep. Giyuu almost wished that it had. The Wind Hashira was hanging on, if only just. The fever had finally gone, but in its place Sanemi's skin was now chill to the touch, his pallor ashen. It was as if he had already died, and his spirit simply hadn’t realized it, stubbornly clinging to his dying body by the slimmest of threads. Blood flowed from his nose steadily now, no matter how Giyuu tried to stanch it, and he was racked with wet hacking coughs in his sleep, blood staining his lips a red so dark it was nearly black. 

The symptoms didn’t matter now. Shinobu would save him…or she wouldn’t… As much as he didn’t want to dwell on the latter, he’d had hours to listen to Sanemi’s heart growing weaker and weaker, his breath becoming less steady, too large gaps between inhalations. He wasn’t naive. He knew that odds weren’t on Sanemi’s side, and all the skill in the world wouldn’t save him if his was a condition that Shinobu was not equipped to treat. Still, he refused to give up until he knew that there was nothing left, until he could do nothing but face the cold reality. 

Rushing to the front of the estate, out the door onto the engawa, Giyuu saw Shinobu just as she entered the gate, her step quick and anxious. 

"Is he still—?" she asked, expression drawn to a mild frown 

"Yes, for now," Giyuu said, unable to conceal the resignation in his voice. “He won’t last much longer.”

"We'll see," Shinobu said, and gestured for Giyuu to lead her inside.

Giyuu led her to Sanemi's room, his heart jumping upon seeing Sanemi still as a corpse and silent, for a moment overcome by a terror that he'd passed on in the moments he'd been out of the room. Then Sanemi took a rattling breath. Shinobu moved around Giyuu and went quickly to his side, settling onto her knees. Giyuu stood helplessly, watching. He wanted to sit beside Sanemi, wanted to take his hand, stroke his hair, wanted to be close to him. He held himself back, though, as Shinobu went to work, digging through her bag for various tools. The last thing Giyuu wanted was to be in her way. 

As she took vitals and ran simple tests, Shinobu again asked Giyuu questions about Sanemi's condition, his symptoms, the timeline of his illness. Between questions, the room was quiet, silence only broken by the sound of Sanemi struggling for air

The entirety of her exam was concluded in little more than ten minutes. Giyuu didn't need to hear anything Shinobu had to say when she sat back, looking at Sanemi with sorrow creasing her brow. The look on her face was enough to know the conclusions she had drawn. It took every shred of Giyuu’s will to not collapse to the floor and scream. He breathed, once, twice, three times. Instead of breaking the way his heart urged him to, Giyuu crossed the room and knelt beside Shinobu. He reached a hand out and laid it on Sanemi’s head, fingers in his hair. Shinobu, in turn, put her hand on Giyuu's arm. 

"There's nothing you could have done," she murmured, "even if I had been at the Butterfly mansion. Even if I'd arrived sooner. This poison... It's not one that I've ever successfully treated. I'm so sorry, Tomioka-san." 

"You did what you could," Giyuu said, the words strangled, barely escaping his lips. 

They sat in silence as if neither knew what to say to the other in light of what Shinobu had declared.

Sanemi was alive. But very soon he wouldn’t be. 

“How long…” Giyuu asked in a low voice. 

Shinobu sighed. “An hour more? Maybe two.” She hummed sadly, then said in as gentle a voice as Giyuu had ever heard "...I will send word to Master Ubuyashiki on your behalf. He must be informed, as well as the rest of the Hashira. But…” she hesitated, squeezing lightly, “That all can wait. If you don't want to be alone. I can stay—" 

"No," Giyuu interrupted. "Please, I... I want to be alone with him."

Shinobu’s expression softened as she gave him a small nod in response. “I am truly sorry.”

Giyuu just ducked his head as Shinobu stood and headed for the door, pausing to look back once more before closing it behind her. As soon as he heard the door latch into place, as soon as he heard Shinobu’s steps fade down the hall, as soon as the front door slid open and then shut, as soon as Giyuu was sure that he was alone, his composure broke. One hand lifted to his mouth as a sob wracked his body, hand on Sanemi’s head gripping his hair gently, then stroking it smooth. 

This is it. 

Sanemi would be dead soon. An hour, maybe two, Shinobu had said. And that would be the end. Sanemi would pass from this life to whatever came after. 

He tried to hold it back, the emotions threatening to drown him. He tried to remember the things that Sanemi had said, the comforts that seemed so cold now in the light of the finality of his last moments. But, like a dam with too many cracks upon its surface, Giyuu’s emotions broke through. His breath grew unsteady as he tried to choke down each sob, his chest tight and aching, but still the tears came, a trickle, then a downpour, fast and relentless. For once, he didn’t continue to try and shut his emotions up behind his walls. For once, he let himself feel the entirety of them. He bent over Sanemi, forehead on his chest, and he cried like he hadn’t since Sabito’s death so many years ago.

In his grief, Giyuu failed to hear the fluttering of wings or trill of greeting as Kanzaburo landed on the window sill.

Moments later, there was a knock on the bedroom door. 

Giyuu flinched, head shooting up and whipping towards the door. He drew his arm up, using the sleeve of his haori to wipe the tears from his cheeks and try to dry his eyes, a hundred thoughts racing through his mind at once. 

Why was Shinobu back so quickly? Why had she returned at all? Did she think of something that could help Sanemi? Was there something she had missed?

Giyuu started to push himself to his feet, but before he had even gotten halfway, the door opened. 

Tanjiro Kamado stood there. 

“Giyuu-san!" he declared, "I’m very sorry for barging in, but Kanzaburo said it was urgent!” 

Why? Why had he come here? Why now? Why had Kanzaburo retrieved him at all? Giyuu stared at the young slayer, baffled, but his confusion quickly soured to irritation. He narrowed his gaze on the boy.  

“Tanjiro,” Giyuu said coldly, his voice, his expression, harsh. “You shouldn’t be here. Get out—” 

“Wait, no, Giyuu-san!” Tanjiro held up a hand and hurried forward, removing the box that carried his demon sister from his back and setting it on the floor at the foot of the futon. “I may be able to fix this.” He unhooked the latch, and the door swung open.  

Giyuu was speechless, frozen by the words, unable to comprehend their meaning, unable to let himself hope, not now. All he could do was watch as Tanjiro coaxed his demon sister from her box. She crawled out, stretching her arms, dark hair spilling all the way to the floor and her pink kimono pooled around her tiny frame, far too large. Still, she didn’t grow, only looked around the room.

This didn’t make any sense. Why was Tanjiro here? Why was he bringing out Nezuko? What could they possibly do that Shinobu and all of Giyuu’s other efforts hadn’t been able to accomplish for Sanemi? 

Tanjiro knelt in front of Nezuko, taking her small clawed hands in his and smiling at her gently. “Nezuko, take a look at Shinazugawa-san. It’s poison, like Uzui-san and I had a few months ago. Can you fix it?” 

The young demon girl hummed through her bamboo muzzle, peering around her brother with wide eyes to look at the still form of the Wind Hashira on the futon. Giyuu held back a grimace. Did she remember, he wondered. Did she know that the man she was being asked to save was the very same who had put his sword through her not once, but three times. The man who had taunted her, tortured her, flaunting his marechi blood in her face. 

If she remembered, it seemed she bore no ill will, no anger in her expression, only curiosity. With a look at Tanjiro, then Giyuu, she nodded and shuffled over to Sanemi's head. Desperate hope fluttered in his Giyuu’s chest, though he had no clue what the girl meant to do. He watched as Nezuko clenched her hands into small fists, sharp nails digging deep into her palms, squeezing until blood seeped between her fingers and began to drip to the ground. Then she opened her hands and a bright pink flame erupted around her fingers. 

Alarm filled Giyuu, and he flinched, eyes going wide. "Wait, what are you—" he started as she reached her flaming hands out to Sanemi. 

“No, Giyuu-san, just wait!” Tanjiro said, reaching on and gripping his arm. His burgundy eyes were imploring. “Trust me.” 

Giyuu looked at Tanjiro, then back to Nezuko, hovering over Sanemi. He grit his teeth, but gave her a nod. Then her hands dropped onto his chest and the vibrant pink flame rushed from her hands, pouring onto Sanemi’s skin and spreading like wildfire, raging fast and sudden across his body until it engulfed the whole of him. Giyuu watched, horrified and fascinated. His instincts urged him to douse the flame, but Tanjiro’s grip on his arm was firm. It seemed he expected this, and Sanemi didn't cry out, didn’t react at all to the fire licking his skin. So Giyuu breathed, tentatively reaching out his other hand, stretching it towards the flames. They curled around his fingers as they got close, but didn’t cling to him the way they did Sanemi, and although the blaze crackled and threw out sparks, there was no real heat in it, just a mild warmth. 

"What is this?" Giyuu asked, but before Tanjiro could answer, a sudden cry of alarm made both of them jump. Sanemi, the source of the yelp, sucked in a huge gust of air, shooting up on the futon, eyes wide and darting. Nezuko blinked at his sudden return to consciousness, her hands dropping back into her lap. Without her touch to perpetuate them, the pink flames dissipated quickly, licking over the edges of Sanemi’s skin, dancing in his hair, until they vanished entirely. The absence of the roaring flames left a pocket of silence around them, each of them staring in shock at Sanemi as he sat there gasping for breath, one hand pressed to his chest, the other to his head. Giyuu couldn't believe what he was seeing, hardly dared to believe it. Sanemi was still drawn with exhaustion, his hair still lank and greasy, but there was life in his eyes and color in his skin and a renewed strength in his posture that Giyuu had thought was gone for good. 

“What the hell?” Sanemi choked, looking at Giyuu, then to Tanjiro and Nezuko, making her way around the futon back towards her brother. His expression grew cross, and Giyuu had never been so happy to see the familiar temper in it, or hear the confused anger in his voice.

Alive.

Sanemi was beautifully, blessedly alive.

He was going to be alright. He was going to live.

He wasn't going to leave Giyuu, not today. 

"Sanemi," Giyuu choked, falling forward and dragging Sanemi into his arms. He didn’t care that Tanjiro was sitting by, a gentle, relieved smile on his face, or about Nezuko, humming happily as she shuffled over to Tanjiro’s side. All he could feel was relief, overwhelming, pulling rare chimes of laughter to the surface. All he could focus on was Sanemi, warm and solid and whole in his arms.  "Damn you," Giyuu whispered fervently, fresh tears streaking his cheeks. He didn’t bother trying to hold them back. "I thought I lost you, you bastard." 

"What…" Sanemi started to say, returning Giyuu’s embrace, but there was bafflement in his voice as he asked, "What happened? I was sure that... I should be dead. I was... I was dead, Giyuu." 

"You would’ve been," Giyuu agreed, "But—" Giyuu pulled away for a moment to gesture at Tanjiro and Nezuko. Sanemi’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, lip curling with distaste as he looked at the young slayer and his demon sister, but Giyuu took his hand, threading their fingers together. “You’re alive because of them, Sanemi.” 

“How?” he asked. 

“Nezuko’s blood demon art,” Tanjiro explained, patting her head softly. “It can negate demonic poison. She saved Uzui-san and I after our battle with Upper Six a few months ago. I thought you knew…” Tanjiro frowned as Giyuu shook his head. “Then… Well, why did you send Kanzaburo?”

“I didn’t,” Giyuu said, then shrugged. “The crows talk. Matsuemon must have told Kanzaburo.” He reached out a hand to the old bird as he hopped forward with a raspy chirp. Giyuu ran his hand gently along the old bird's feathers, shifting his fingers to scritch the soft feathers of his neck. “Clever bird,” he praised quietly. 

The furrows in Sanemi's brow deepened as he looked between Giyuu and Tanjiro. 

Alive, Sanemi thought. Not just alive, but cured. He could feel it, the way the poison in his veins had been purged. He felt cleansed from his skin down to his blood, his bones, every organ cleared of the taint that had been killing him. And it was only because of the Kamado brat and his demon sister. Sanemi ground his teeth, but then Giyuu looked up from Kanzaburo and met his gaze. He tilted his head toward Tanjiro, and though he didn’t say a word, his look spoke volumes. Sanemi matched his stern gaze with his own glare, but the standoff didn’t last long.

Sanemi should be dead, and he wasn’t—it was as simple as that. 

“Thank you…for taking care of the poison,” Sanemi said, gripping the sheets hard. He felt his cheeks warm and looked away from the boy who was smiling, looking a little surprised perhaps that Sanemi had actually expressed anything resembling gratitude, given their history. From the corner of his eye, he could see Giyuu shake his head, but his expression was relaxed, fond, still too relieved to be aggravated by Sanemi’s stubbornness. 

“Thank you, Tanjiro,” Giyuu echoed Sanemi’s thanks, sincerity warming his tone. 

“It’s an honor to be able to help a Hashira,” Tanjiro said, ushering Nezuko into her box and shouldering it. Once it was secured on his back, he got to his feet and bowed, though Sanemi thought the gesture was directed at Giyuu more than him. “I’m grateful that we could help. You’ll want to rest still,” he directed the last at Sanemi. “The poison is gone, but it can take some time to feel back to normal.” With that he offered a wave and turned to go. 

“Don’t think this means I owe you anything, Kamado,” Sanemi suddenly snapped at his back, feeling the heat on his face deepen, his ears getting hot. “I haven’t forgotten the shit you pulled during training.” 

Tanjiro paused and glanced over his shoulder. His expression was pleasant, but there was a spark in his gaze. “Don’t worry, Shinazugawa-san. I haven’t forgotten either.” He turned back to the door and walked out into the hall, footsteps fading as he went towards the front of the estate.  

Sanemi bared his teeth, temper flaring, and shifted forward with the urge to go after the brat. The nerve of him. He needed to be taught respect, and Sanemi was determined to be the one to teach it—

“Sanemi,” Giyuu said, setting a firm hand on his arm, stopping him before he even got to his knees. Sanemi turned his glare on the Water Hashira, clenching his fist, but Giyuu’s blue gaze fell on him, and it was like water poured on a fire, dousing the heat of his anger, sending his impulses up in smoke. 

"It’s alright to just say thank you," Giyuu said, and slid his hand down to Sanemi’s, threading their fingers together again. Before Sanemi could think of a reply or a retort, Giyuu turned his attention away. “Sorai,” he called to Sanemi’s crow, perched in the window. “Get Shinobu. She shouldn’t have gotten too far. Tell her to come back.” Sorai nodded once, then took off in the direction of the Butterfly Mansion. 

Everything was quiet now. Giyuu’s thumb stroked Sanemi’s hand, back and forth slowly, soothing—though if it was meant to soothe Sanemi or Giyuu, Sanemi wasn’t sure. Giyuu’s brow had creased again. 

“I thought I lost you,” Giyuu murmured, finally breaking the silence. “You were… I thought you were—”

Sanemi shifted forward, free hand gripping Giyuu gently by the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and pulled him in, silencing his words with the hard press of his lips. Giyuu gasped, lips parting in surprise for a beat, then raised his hand to Sanemi’s face, cupping his cheek and kissed him back. 

All of Giyuu's grief and fear flowed out into the kiss and spun away like dry leaves caught in the wind, only relief left behind. He kissed Sanemi, kissed him rough, messy, desperate. Their hearts beat wild between them, and it was like the years had been erased, like being back at the beginning. Giyuu. Back then they’d been only nineteen, unsure what it was they had stumbled upon in each other, if what they felt was simply lust or something more, knowing only that they craved each other recklessly. 

“Sanemi,” Giyuu whispered his name fervently, and his hand threaded into Sanemi’s hair, gripping it. He pressed closer, no more space between them. “I don’t know what I would have done,” he said, breath trembling around the words. “If you… If Tanjiro hadn’t—” 

“You’re stuck with me,” Sanemi interrupted with a chuckle, running his hands down Giyuu’s back, winding them tight around his waist. He trailed his lips over Giyuu’s jaw, but Giyuu’s hand in his hair gripped harder. 

“It isn’t funny,” Giyuu growled. 

Sanemi looked up at him, his lips set in a frown, his blue eyes on fire, all the emotions that had flooded through him unrestrained in the last day concentrated in the cut of his glare.

“Hey,” Sanemi said, and the humor was gone from his voice. He stroked Giyuu’s hair, pressed his hand to his back, and kissed him again, softly. Kissed his cheeks and his brow, kissed the soft lids of his eyes when they closed. “You would have done what you always do…” he murmured between the tender press of his lips. “You would have survived, gotten stronger, and eventually found a way to heal.” Giyuu’s eyes opened, shining, and Sanemi smiled. “But I'm here, Giyuu. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Giyuu nodded, held the back of Sanemi's neck in a gentle grip, and rested his forehead to the Wind Hashira's. They stayed that way, breathing together, hearts beating in sync. It might have been minutes, it might have been an hour. The time passed unchecked until they heard Shinobu's quiet knock announcing her return. 

Shinobu, informed by Sorai of what had occurred, was unsurprised, but there was genuine joy in her face as she took Sanemi’s hand and squeezed it, saying she was glad to see him awake. 

Watching as she performed all her tests again, checking every measure of Sanemi's health she had at her disposal, Giyuu felt gratitude warm his heart. Someday this life of hunting and killing demons would take the both of them, Giyuu knew that. Maybe he would never be ready for it. But until that day, he would cherish every moment he had left with Sanemi, the time together all the sweeter for the fact that it had nearly been cut short. And who knew, perhaps fate would be kind, as it had been today. Perhaps they would survive. Perhaps they would pass the years growing old together. 

It seemed like a dream to Giyuu, and he rarely allowed himself the luxury of dreaming. But, looking at Sanemi, the certainty of a shared future filled him with warm assurance. No matter what lie ahead, he thought this dream was one he didn't mind holding on to.