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A sharp crash sounded as a side table was thrown to the floor, the delicate glass decorations shattering upon impact. A scarred fist slammed into the wall, wood splintering and drawing blood to the surface, leaving it to drip down trembling fingers and splatter against the floor. Curses are torn from chapped lips as more things are thrown, more things are broken, the once pristine space now enshrouded by chaos. The perpetrator staggered through the house, hands shaking as the memories of his failed mission played endlessly in his mind.
They were kids. There was no doubt in his mind that those slayers were no older than 16, wide-eyed and terrified as that damned demon ran circles around them. He did everything he could to protect them, to tank the blows, to keep them alive. Still, the demon’s shadow manipulation proved difficult. One by one, the young slayers vanished, almost blinking out of existence before showing up again with broken necks and deep gashes. Those sightless eyes stared right through him, making him feel sick, almost distracting him enough for the demon to catch him off guard. However, as gentle as it could be, the wind was unforgivable when it was angered.
More things crashed to the floor, things Sanemi hadn’t even noticed. There was just one thing he needed, just one thing. The cabinet door was thrown open so hard it creaked under the force, the contents being rifled through, falling from their places as they were moved with no care. Finally, finally, he found what he needed, quickly grabbing the bottle that had sat untouched for months. Strong hands shook as he desperately worked the cap off, dumping a few pills into his hand and tossing them into his mouth. The sharp, bitter taste lingered even after he swallowed them, repeating the process again and again until his head spun and he could no longer keep a grip on the bottle.
He hadn’t even realized that he couldn’t breath until his side slammed into the counter. Rough, calloused fingers gripped at the surface of it, the tips pale, bordering on blue. Even as he tried to hold himself up, his legs gave out beneath him and he crashed heavily to the floor. Lips barely parted to try to weakly take in air, a sense of relief washed over him. Was this it? Would he finally be freed from the guilt that took over every part of him until he was drowning in its wrath? With everything going on, mind swirling with fear and emotion, he could barely even feel the tears that made their way down his cheeks. He’d been fighting this for so long, trying to tell himself that he could do better, that he could work harder, that he could save people. If this last mission didn’t say anything about that ability, he wasn’t sure what would. Dull violet eyes fluttered softly, unsure if he was trying to stay awake or if he was welcoming the darkening at the edges of his vision.
A scream pulls him back to reality, words not quite meeting his ears. He recognized that voice. Who was it? What were they saying? A haze of black and white came over his vision and it took a couple seconds for him to realize that it was a haori he was seeing. Even from so close, Sanemi couldn't quite make out what Obanai was saying, his vision fading in and out. He hadn't even realized his eyes had closed until a hand was tapping urgently at his cheek, more hazy words meeting his ears. He tried to focus on the words, tried to make out what he was saying.
Obanai pulled his bandages down, revealing the scars Sanemi had only seen once or twice. Now, barely able to read his lips, the Wind Pillar realized that his friend was trying to tell him to breathe. Slowly, shakily, choked by the amount of medication in his system, Sanemi forced a breath, and then another, then one more. As he focused on breathing, he saw the other hashira searching through the cabinet before coming back with a vial and a syringe.
His eyes opened at the sharp sting of the needle pressing into his shoulder, forcing another weak breath into his lungs. When had he closed them again? How long had they been closed? His vision was foggy, black creeping around the edges, threatening to consume him until a cold rag was pressed to his forehead. As much as he tried to force himself awake, to focus on Obanai's frantic words and insistent presses against his skin, the darkness was all-encompasing, swallowing him whole and leaving him to drown.
. . .
When he finally woke up again, his eyes fluttered open to the stark white of the butterfly mansion. His breaths were still weak in his lungs, but they were stronger than they had been. His head was killing him, feeling like it was being ripped in two with how splitting the headache was. A sudden jolt of anxiety rushed through him as he remembered what had happened. Someone had found him. They knew what he tried to do. He was in the butterfly mansion. Shinobu must have been told. She knew. She knew. She fucking knew. He sat bolt upright, gasping sharply as panic set in, startling someone who had been at his bedside.
“Hey, hey, calm down, Shinazugawa. You need to lay back down.” A gentle hand found his back and he immediately snatched the person's wrist, glaring to the side at whoever it was only to be met with worried, mismatched eyes. “It's ok. Just breathe.”
The Wind Pillar took a moment to orient himself again before taking a trembling breath, and then another, slowly letting go of his friend's wrist. “How much does Kocho know?” He asked, hoping his voice wasn't shaking as much as he thought it was.
“Not much. Only as much as I know.” Obanai said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from the other Pillar. The bandages on his face had been replaced, once again covering his lips that Sanemi knew had to be pressed into a tight line. “That I was going to visit you since I knew you'd be back from your mission. That I saw you on the floor, barely breathing, and I saw a bottle of morphine pills. It was almost empty. . .” Sanemi tried to ignore the terrified quiver in his friend's voice. “I thought you were going to die. . . I didn't think I'd gotten there in time. Your fucking lips were blue, Shinazugawa. You were barely breathing.” Small, trembling hands pressed against the Serpent Pillar's face. “Why would you ever. . ?” He couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence, as though speaking the words would make it truly real.
Sanemi looked away again, fingers picking nervously at a scab on his arm. It was almost healed, surely gonna leave another scar. He didn't care. He welcomed it. “I don't know.” He lied. He knew why he'd done it. After all, this wasn't the first time. It wasn't even the second or third. This was just the first time he'd taken that many pills. Usually he just threw up uncontrollably before passing out on the bathroom floor only to wake up the next morning with a deep feeling of dread. He never expected anyone to actually find him, to care enough to save him.
“Bullshit.” The furious voice from the doorway pulled his attention, turning tired violet eyes to the girl standing there with poorly-concealed tears in her eyes. “You know damn well why you did it. This isn't something someone just does on a whim, Shinazugawa.” She moved over to the edge of the bed, glaring sharply at the man sitting there. He knew she wasn't really angry, though. She was terrified. She was so unbelievably terrified that she'd lose the man who treated her no less than a younger sister. “You're going to tell me why you did it.” She said firmly, sitting on the bed beside him, a notepad held in one hand and a pen in the other.
Sanemi tried to glare at her, tried to snap back, but he was so fucking tired, so overwhelmed that it felt like his entire body shut down. He turned his gaze away. “There's nothing to tell.” He said shortly, his tone flat, void of emotion. It was almost unnerving. “I failed again. I'm tired of failing people. I'm tired of watching people die, knowing I should be able to save them. I just-” He cut himself off as his voice cracked. “I'm tired, Kocho. I'm so tired.” He pressed scarred, calloused hands to his face, trying to hide the tears that burned his eyes, the tears he refused to let fall.
He jolted as he felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around him, lifting his head again to look, watching as Shinobu buried her face in his shoulder, trying to fight back her tears. He stared wide-eyed at her for a few seconds before glancing at Obanai, startled to see that the man also had tears in his eyes, no matter how hard he tried hiding it. “Do you know how many people you've saved?” The Serpent Pillar asked slowly, voice trembling with emotion. Getting met by a shake of a head, Obanai continued. “Hundreds. Maybe even thousands. Every time you kill a demon, that's at least a dozen people that won't get eaten now. I've seen you come back from missions with younger slayers. You're always bleeding, looking like you're about to keel over, but those kids are looking at you like you're a god. I know you protected them. You always do.”
“Not always.” Sanemi cut in, looking away again, slowly bringing his arms up to wrap around Shinobu, holding her close, just as he had when she'd lost her sister. “Not today.” Today? Yesterday? He realized he didn't actually know how long he was unconscious for. “All of those kids expected me to protect them, but I didn't.” He should have been able to. He's a Hashira, that's his job. What a failure.
“Yeah, and shit happens.” Obanai said firmly, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall. He could hear the loathing in Sanemi's voice, the complete and utter disgust directed only at the Wind Pillar himself. “People are going to die. It comes with the job. Killing yourself is not how you stop that.” He finally said it, the words suffocating the room until the breath caught in Sanemi's throat and he pressed an arm to his face to hide whatever expression was there. He cursed sharply, the words trembling on his tongue.
That's what he'd tried to do. He tried to kill himself. Again. He kept trying. Why did he keep trying? He already knew the answer to that. Because it hurt. Not the scars marring his skin, not the disabilities he refused to acknowledge that he knew set his learning behind the others. No, it was the memories. It was the loneliness, the craving of someone to hold him, to care about him, but unable to accept such attention for fear that he'd only let them down again, that they'd just become another stain upon his already disgusting hands. It hurt, not just as a pain in his chest or a burning in his eyes, but as an all-encompasing dread that surrounded him, dragging him deeper and deeper with each passing moment. It hurt, and he didn't know how much longer he could stand it.
Despite himself, Sanemi could feel his shoulders start to tremble, jolting in time with quiet sobs that he tried to bite back. He couldn't be crying right now. He was already weak enough, he didn't need to make things worse. Still, no matter how much he berated himself, no matter how much he willed away the tears, he couldn't hold back the flood that had been building for years. A gentle embrace from his best friend was the last thing he needed to be shoved recklessly over the edge. He grabbed onto Obanai's sleeve, pulling him closer. He sobbed.