Chapter Text
The Butterfly Estate was quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet that brings tranquility, no chirping of birds, no rustle of wind through open windows. Just the heavy, suffocating stillness that followed a war where far too many had fallen.
Muichiro Tokito had not woken up.
A full week had passed since the Infinity Castle collapsed into nothingness. Since Kokushibo fell. Since blood soaked the very blades of the pillars who had swords to remain standing.
It has been a full week since Muichiro lost his arm and nearly his life.
He lay now in one of the private rooms, wrapped in white bandages from shoulder to toe. His left side was still raw beneath the layers, the scar from where Kokushibo’s wild slash had torn through him during that final chaotic fight with Gyomei. The wound had nearly cut him in half however had somehow by the blessing of god had not cut through entirely.
Sanemi had not forgiven himself and had spent the last week sitting at the young hashira's bedside praying he doesn't lose yet another person to this war- the image of muchiro's cry of pain as he curled in on himself clutching his body after he was cut was something that haunts him more so than anything else.
Muichiro’s body burned to a painful degree and the former wind hashira had no idea what to do when the butterfly sisters would ask him in annoyance about why muichiros mark was still visible despite him being bedridden and not in combat. The Hashira Mark, once a sign of power, now cursed him with relentless fever. His skin was constantly too hot, his breathing uneven and shallow. Every few hours, he would twitch or shudder, lips parting as if to speak, but he never woke.
Muichiro was the first Hashira to gain a mark, and despite his age and size has regulated the high heat and intensity that comes with awakening it especially in battle- but seeing his mark hasn’t faded away even a week after the battle has done nothing to ease anyone’s mind. Tomioka Giyuu and Sanemi were the only living hashiras who had experienced the mark in a similar way to Muichiro (not including Tanjiro as he was sort of a special case) making it even more pressuring to see mucihiro’s continually worsening state as they were not knowledgeable enough about the mark to understand why it was still prominently persisting. Giyuu lowered his gaze. “The Mark was never meant to last this long.”
Sanemi sucked in a sharp breath refusing to look at the other in his eyes, the tense bond between the two not fully broken even after the hell they endured. He knelt beside the bed, posture stiff, hands resting uselessly on his thighs like he didn’t trust them not to shake. Muichiro’s breathing was uneven and far too shallow and his skin was burning under the thin sheet. Sweat dampened his pale hair, strands clinging to his forehead.
Sanemi hesitated before he reached out. Although his fingers were rough and scarred he had gentle practice as he brushed hair gently out of Muichiro’s face. The boy’s brow was furrowed even in unconsciousness, lips parted. Every shallow breath sounded like it hurt.
“…Hang on, tokito,” Sanemi murmured, barely loud enough for himself. “You didn’t survive Kokushibo just to die like this.”
“Perhaps we have to keep waiting it out..” Giyuu started before he was interrupted by a slammed fist in outrage. “How much damn longer do we have to wait? The kids mark is still there still glowing and his fever hasn’t broken yet since the castle - he’s dying tomioka!” He burst all the anger he’s been building up slowly toppling over into his words hastily onto Giyuu. Just as he was about to counter a small murmur disrupted their argument.
“Cold…”
So quiet.
So small.
Sanemi froze while Giyuu’s eyes widened in both alarm and excitement blurred in one.
Muichiro’s lashes fluttered again, fighting against unconsciousness, his body trembling as if trapped between life and death- Sanemi was on his feet instantly, leaning over him while giyuu rushed out to find someone.
The boy’s head shifted weakly against the pillow, his expression tightening as if he were reliving it all again—the blade, the pressure, the way Kokushibo’s strike had torn through his small body and nearly ended him.
Sanemi’s chest tightened painfully.
For just a moment, the room blurred and all he could see was Genya.
Genya, bleeding. Genya, shaking. Genya, smiling anyway.
Sanemi sucked in a sharp breath, his vision stinging as he watched Giyuu attempt to ungracefully sit the kid up rubbing his back awkwardly as Muichiro still looked completely disoriented and out of it with his mark still completely visible and hot to the touch to Giyus irritation.
Giyuu grazed it gently, his gaze lingering on the mark with a subtle frown. “…It should have faded by now. Yours did. Mine did.”
Sanemi’s jaw clenched. “…Yeah.”
A heavy silence settled.
Giyuu watched Muichiro’s chest rise and fall with effort as he looked around hazily clearly trying to register what's happening. His voice was quiet, troubled. “…Poor thing.” he murmured as he adjusted some pillows so he wasn't the one clumsily keeping him sitting upright.
Sanemi finally looked up at his concern etched in his already harsh features before muichiro twitched again.
“…What happened…where’s everyone…?” The question struck like a blade and Sanemi’s chest tightened painfully, feeling sick to his stomach.
Not now.
Not like this.
Muichiro was still drifting-half here, half lost in fever and fading memories. His eyes fluttered open just a little, confused, unfocused. Sanemi couldn’t do it.
Not now. Not while he was burning alive from the inside. Not while he was slipping in and out of consciousness like this.
Instead, he lowered his head slightly and Mumbled a bit too gruffly, “…Don’t worry about that right now.”
Muichiro looked vaguely unsettled but accepted the answer as he groaned in intense pain as Giyuu instantly retracted his hand from his mark apologizing in a small murmur .
With much effort Muichiro managed to somewhat force himself to stay conscious with an unsteady gaze fixated on nothing in particular, finding the floor extremely fascinating as his vision still blurred in and out. He did that a lot even before the infinity castle huh?
He didn’t feel very well. He could somewhat make out the distorted bodies of what looked like Giyuu and Sanemi but couldn’t maintain focus as a wave of pain shot though his body, making him tremble visibly as a small gasp of pain left his lips before he could stop it. Suddenly he was being pulled into someone’s arms and was being carried hastily somewhere, he wasn’t sure when but he I feared from the dampness of his cheek that he was crying.
Well that’s embarrassing.
He was being comforted; the back of his head being cradled like he was a little kid which he melted into despite his pride and embarrassment- he was in far too deep in excruciating pain to care! He attempted to open in his eyes before feeling a wave of agony and eveything turned black.