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Shinobu’s an angry woman. She isn’t sure exactly when it started, but she’s known it for almost her whole life. There’s something deep in her soul, something she knows and feels as intrinsically dirty and wrong. Something that gnaws at her bones, teeth and saliva marring her. Something that has almost come as a birthright, a curse set to destroy her from within. A virus set to spread from under her skin, consuming her until she was nothing more.
She’d tried to push it back. That ache in her chest was lessened, she knew she could lean on her sister’s smile and bottomless hope to ward from it. But it would ring in her ears like the chime of death; she remembers the first time she ever held a nichirin blade and she nearly fell with it. When she couldn’t even behead a dummy when training. When she noticed the healthy muscle her sister had grown as they trained together, comparing it to the lack of her own. How it took weeks just to figure out the right balance of chemicals and for a poison compound. How easily she would let herself crack and slip when with her, crying as if the admittance of weakness wasn’t worse than the admittance of repression. How her sister had confessed in her arms, breath escaping her and blood once again ruining her haori, that her worst fears were true. That Kanae had always seen it in her, the festering wound of anger that had never stopped growing in her, that wound of fear and insecurity.
Shinobu couldn’t handle it anymore. What point is there to protecting her happiness if it had always been taken from her? What was the point in always falling short? Knowing that no matter how hard she can push herself, it won’t be enough.
Guilt has long since haunted her since that day nearly five years ago. That festering wound in her had long ago consumed her, along with the haori that her sister bled to death in. A constant reminder of the death she’s pushing herself towards. It was almost peaceful. Poison burning in her veins, consuming every organ and muscle just under the skin. Fitting. How easy the anger came to her, like bugs swarming a long decaying body lost long ago. It had always been like this for her. The anger, the need for vengeance. The need for it to be over. A means to the end, she swore to herself when she left without turning back. Hiding behind her sweet sister’s genuine smile and demeanor. Like a reanimated corpse, possessed and almost so close to the real thing.
She hates it. Hates it so much, it makes her eyes twitch and her veins pulse with an intensity that could easily kill her. She lays awake at night. Never at her bed, always at her desk. She welcomes it all, consuming hatred in her. Because it’s come from deep within, as much as she hates to admit it.
It always came back around to her.
Every thought of anger, of repulsion and disdain. Every sadistic thought when she witnesses a demon rot to ash in front of her. Like some apathetic killer who doesn’t hold a feeling for anything. Every vial of poison she spends precious seconds on. Every syringe lined up for her like a death sentence, how easily she presses the needle against her arm before pushing it in. The burning ache she feels in her body after each dose isn’t new. She’s dealt with such conditions her whole life.
What she isn’t prepared for is her to show up during the first couple months of test trials.
Shinobu knows she’s been precise. Each milliliter of chemicals and every gram of boiled and grinded wisteria into the concoction, the way her gaze would linger on the markings on the syringe. Her anger might be wild, an untamed scorch in her veins, but her methods aren’t. She prides herself in the tidy space of her office, each note of her poisons and toxins organized in her desk, each vial labeled and shelved alphabetically. Her notes on the effects of long term exposure to wisteria are thorough and detailed, poetic almost. The way she had to almost begrudgingly decrease the dosage amount because her body was too weak to handle what the average person could. Even her own personal studies on how demons handle the poison, how their bodies so easily melt into some intangible thing, almost burning the grass beneath them. She stays perfectly clean and comes back home with that weight in her chest almost lighter. She makes sure to keep everything in her vicinity as tidy and as clean as she can. Like maybe it proves something to her. That there’s no way she could be struggling if her study was polished and her uniform was never torn and her hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place. She could handle it. She has to. If something was wrong, she’ll notice. That’s what she thought at least.
Shinobu’s hand moves across the paper almost methodically. She can barely see what she’s writing on the report anymore. The two light sources being a pathetic candle on the window sill and the constant lightning lighting up the sky. It seems almost alive, following along to some incomprehensible beat, like it was trying to mock the sun’s own image. Each crackle of the sky shook the earth, the trees just outside her office dancing along in the wind. She keeps her gaze almost too intense over the space where she’s writing, scolding herself whenever her gaze flickers to the corner of her office.
She pauses her hand, letting the ink of her brush soak into the paper. A strike of lightning explodes in the air, and she keeps her gaze sharp and focused on the corner of her room. Shinobu isn’t sure how she hasn’t sensed it before, but she scolds herself either way.
She’s been slower than average, a new tug pulling opposite against her arms and legs. The ache and newly forming bruise on the point between her wrist and palm. She already had to lower the dosage, she didn’t have time to be cutting daily doses too. She’s sure that her body will get used to it. Anyone else’s body would easily learn to operate with the poison. It’s still only been a couple of months since she started, but she can see herself slipping. Each time she forgets just a simple task, each time she stupidly lets her expression fall in front of somebody, it was like a million daggers embedded deep into her chest. She knows she isn’t trying hard enough. She knows she can push herself farther. That if she lets herself fall and crack just a bit further she can do it all. Can be it all, even. She knows they weren’t true, that they were pretty lies she fed herself each night. But at some point it felt real.
Another strike of furious lighting shocks the air, and Shinobu makes sure to keep her gaze sharp against the corner. Its gaze is intense, it brings up memories of still, bloody bodies with blank eyes left open. She blinks then furiously, dismissing the idea of simply grabbing the candle left on her windowsill. She doesn’t let her gaze linger over the moth bouncing on and off the opposite side of the glass. It’s likely the demon knows she recognizes it there, but it hasn't done anything to agitate or attack her yet. It simply stares. Its gaze bore into her own, and another shrike of lightning shot through the air. There is a familiar pressure worming its way under her skin, and as she stares back at it for longer, she feels her thoughts rush at the sight.
She ignores the numb pang in her chest, the way she fights to push back the thought as soon as it rises. She clenches her hand around the handle of her blade. Even if, it didn't matter. A demon blood art technique utilizing its victims own memory was fascinating– she’ll have to make sure to get a blood sample before it can disintegrate fully. It’s a conscious effort to ease the rise and fall of her chest then, its mocking stare almost enough to chip away at what is left of her.
She stands then, sword drawn. The ever present smile falters with every crack of lightning, every time she’s able to take in its appearance. Shinobu’s more than aware of the depravity of such things. She's seen first hand how easily they can ruin a family, or a person’s life without even needing to be asked. Selfish to a harmful fault, each sadistic trait they hold eventually being the one to take them out. It’s ironic, a fitting end for creatures that held no emotion but their reckless will to live off of those who deserved it least. The mere idea she’s somehow missed such a revolting presence in her own home only digs up a scorching ache in her bones that she’d thought she dug deep enough. She idly claps her hands together, words slipping from her mouth with practiced ease, a cruelty she embraces far too often.
“Impressive you were able to get past me, but it’s not enough.” The thing stays silent, her aggravation slowly boiling in her gut. Just staring at her, almost mockingly. As if it knew it was pressing all her buttons. The mansion shook with the wind, almost crumbling under each strike of thunder and shot of lightning. It continued to stare at her, familiar eyes boring back into her own. Empty and lifeless, the thought only makes her hand tighten around the hilt of her sword. If she could behead it, she would have already. But Shinobu is too weak, she always has been. Perhaps if she was better she could. Perhaps if she was stronger she wouldn’t let its tactics get to her head, let its taunting gaze force her to think of those same eyes looking at her with a care and fondness she still isn’t worthy of.
She thrusts her sword forward then, her aim impeccable as she shoots forward, if she was stronger the mere speed would have cracked the floor. The neck, she told herself. Just aim for the neck, and it’ll be gone and you won’t have to keep thinking about it. A crack of lightning electrocutes the sky, her sword mere centimeters away from the thing–
But it never makes contact with it. Her smile falls immediately, and in the second they’re left in between each bolt of light, the corner is empty.
Shinobu blinks. She’s too quick to stand up straight again, too quick to whip around. Her gaze falls over the rest of her office. She scans over each shadow, each flicker of something in the dark. There’s a slight thrum to her heart, and she has to force herself to focus. She can’t miss anything. She stares and squints and narrows her eyes over her whole room. Distrusting each flicker over the walls and the wind shaking the trees out through the windows.
She sighs, sheathing her sword back into its case. Well, if it isn’t here, then it’s somewhere else in the mansion. Her heart stutters at the next thought. Her sisters are asleep just down the hall, peacefully resting. Trusting that if something were to happen, she’ll be able to protect them.
She’s out of her room slower than she should have been, the wooden panels of the floor flickering by all too quickly. She whips the door open to the room. A candle flickers on one of the bedside tables, illuminating all the girls. Fast asleep, vulnerable under the covers. Her gaze tracks every corner of darkness, every flicker of light against the walls.
She repeats the same for every room upstairs, cursing under breath. Shinobu stands in the doorway of an empty room, letting her mind go wild with morbid worst case scenarios, how she’s already failed in this mess of a situation. Her gaze flickers over and over and over the dark shadows of the room, whipping her head to each end of the hall. It’s stupid. Irrationality clogs her mind as it fills in the empty gaps of shadow with its mocking gaze, with features she still remembers so perfectly twisted and sharpened to something sinister. The biting pain of her nails barely brings her out of whatever place she was in.
Focus. Focus. Shinobu is the head of this medical facility. The patients depend on Shinobu– her sisters depend on her. They all depend on her, and here she is, fucking it up because she can’t calm down. Shinobu looks away from the room, turning around to face the hall. She forces her eyes tight. It’s hard to block out the dimness of the hallway with even more darkness. She feels something drip from her palm. Like the tension fully leaks from the small cut on her palm. It feels like pulling at torn flesh when she smiles. Even though she’s completely alone in this hallway. She has to calm down.
Shinobu all but stomps down the stairs, too slow, still too slow as she traverses each hallway. She’s too slow to check each patient's room, too slow as she stares at every too dark corner in the room. She should be used to the dimness of the hallways after all these years, and the fact she’s not only further solidifies her own incompetence. Every fraction of irrationality and insecurity runs wild in her mind, and she can’t get her hands to stop shaking for the life of her. Not even the wisteria incense fogging up the hallways can keep her mind clear.
She hates how her thoughts run wild. How all she can think of is each grave of a memory suddenly clawing out, angry and resentful. They all ring in her head with unabandoned hatred. How the guilt she thought she’d forgotten about, let go of, is gnawing and biting at her bones. Burning at every chance of thinking clearly. Shinobu only tries to go faster every time she thinks of the mocking gaze, that oh so familiar look searing itself into her mind like she hasn’t hated it since the moment she got it.
Fuck– it’s all so foolish, all irrational thoughts on her part. Shinobu is more mature than this. More competent than this. Shinobu is a hashira, a medical professional. She’s trained herself into ruling out such thoughts, such insecurities. She’s had to be the one to step up ever since Kanae died. She has to be the one to step up. Every sacrifice, every tremor and shake in her resolve is worth it. It doesn’t matter how battered and tired and ready she is to give up. She still has time here, and while it’s numbered, it’s still something. She can’t even think of slowing down. Not with everything she’s given up. Not with this burning in her gut that only rises and boils deeper into her blood as she looks and looks and tries to ignore her mind filling in the darkness with her–
There’s nothing. She can feel her eye twitching at the mere notion she’s somehow let it slip right under her nose. There’s nothing. It’s just been her mind, she tries to reason. That if she thought she’s seen it down here, it’s only because she can’t stop thinking about what she had to do.
Deep breathes. Deep breathes. Like the ones that Himejime-san urged would bring balance to her thoughts. She can’t fight the immediate call of bullshit in her mind. A deep breath in and out a second later. Then another. Shinobu can only force herself to relax. The demon in here is gone now. Her shoulders fall unabashedly, and she can’t help her habit of pinching her nose bridge. She squeezes her eyes tight. Tight enough to clear her mind of any and all images. Think, think, think you idiot. She’s checked every room, and nothing. Hell, she can’t even sense it anymore. It’s completely gone. It's somehow skittered right out from under her nose. Why she ever was appointed to the Hashira position, she doesn’t know. Well, if it did somehow escape, there’s not a chance it’ll get past the hoard of wisteria trees growing around the mansion twice. Shinobu can’t even irrationalize her mind enough to believe such a thought. Such a fake comfort just for her mind's sake. It’s so stupid, and she doesn’t even know why that’s the first thing her mind goes to.
She makes another round through the entire mansion. She has to force herself to take more deep breaths, even if they don’t do shit for her shaky heart and feeble sighs. Shinobu stands in the hallway. Her mind still looks for something in every flicker of light, in every fraction of noise. Even when she knows it’s just the rain, it’s only the rain.
But she can’t deny the way her gaze lingers on the corner of her office. The way she looks at the storm raging outside, how each strike of thunder lights and shocks the sky. The sight of moths hoarding around the window, desperately seeking comfort from the pathetic candle lit on the windowsill.
How foolish of them.
_________________________
“I mean, have you ever, thought about it at least…?”
Shinobu looks up to the girl sitting next to her. Their collective notes were spread all around them, a mess she was more than familiar with falling asleep against. Kokomi’s gaze was on their notes still, even with her head tilted towards Shinobu’s direction.
“What? No, that’s– no way.” She stopped then, face going slightly flush. The other teen looked up then, still stoic despite the other’s outburst. The moon's light fell over her front, the small lamp just a few feet from them painting a golden glow over Kokomi’s back. The smell of herbs and flowers permeates the room, like the air is just sweeter in the moment. Shinobu was barely even sure of what she was responding to. The girl next to her shrugged, as if to offer some sort of reassurance in the tension settling over Shinobu.
“It’s fine if you have, I don’t care– I was just,” She stopped then. She was still effortlessly calm, uncaring in a way Shinobu wishes she could mimic. Kokomi was always calm, always stoic. Not once had she let her emotions get the better of her. Even when a situation called for it. Shinobu knew why, but that still didn’t wipe away the drip of envy. Shinobu huffed then, while pulling her gaze down to her notes. Failing to wipe her mind clean.
“It’s not like I have the time for that. You probably have more of a chance– considering you get to live such a, normal life.” The backhanded comment left her with an ease she wished she could burn. Kanae would’ve hated to see how she was acting, as if Shinobu couldn’t hate her habit of getting too angry so easily more than she already did. The other was still somehow impossibly still, as if it went right over her head. Shinobu watched as the girl only blinked at her, before Kokomi looked back down at her notes.
“…I guess.” But her hand was trembling just slightly and Shinobu could feel her resolve crack further.
“Well– I just mean,” Shinobu bit her tongue. Swallowing down the meek attempt at an apology of sorts. She didn’t get why she couldn’t just, be honest with her. Spit out all those jealous and stupidly weird feelings she held. There was something between her throat and her mouth, a filter that prevented any of her truths from leaving her. Shinobu stared at her notes, and focused on what was written there.
This– this was what brought Shinobu her peace of mind. All the calculating and thinking, just like that. It’s stupid, she’d wanted to put this all towards being a pharmacist. She’d usually tend to this alone, since she didn’t need or want anyone else’s help. If anything, Shinobu was still confused with herself as to why she even let Kokomi help her. Why she went to the other teen for this, why she let herself ramble on about the different poisons and her different hypotheses concerning their separate effects on demons.
Shinobu tossed her pen down, turning her chair by an angle to look at the girl next to her. This girl, who Shinobu just registered, was staring at her like some kicked dog. Like she was being forced to stay silent.
“What? What is it?” Shinobu threw her hand out into the air. Like that’d get her anywhere. The girl across from her blinked, like some half-awake thing before she sputtered, looking away to her own notes.
“Nothing, nothing I just…” She stopped. Kokomi looked down at her lap, already digging her nails into the skin of her fingertips. Shinobu couldn’t help the unbitten huff that forced itself from her chest. How instinctive it was when she pulled Kokomi’s hands apart, laid them flat on the girl’s own lap. Silence. Ready to flicker, ready to be torn. Shinobu had to bite her tongue, bite back the blaring notion in her mind of how warm the other girl’s hands were. How the heat practically shot against her own. She knew she should’ve pulled away. But it was like their hands had seared and melded into some connected thing. Like no matter how hard Shinobu would try to pull away, she’d still leave with bits of her.
“...Um…Do, you can–” The minute Shinobu’s brain registered those words, she was tearing her hand away, the heat still singing and burning her palm. Shinobu looked down to her notes, and tried to ignore the fact that she could still feel the other girl staring at her. Like she was more important than the research that could possibly lead to more demons being killed, which led to more families being saved. They had so much more useful, and productive things they could’ve been doing. But the other teen continued to stare at her. Shinobu could practically feel the nervousness plaguing her voice before she spoke.
“If, if it, makes you feel better– I’ve, I’ve never thought about… that stuff either. Just, never been interested in it. Not really important. Plus, I don’t, I don’t think anyone could ever tolerate me for that long.” The words left her too smoothly, falling off her tongue with far too much ease. There was a familiar vein bulging from a familiar spot on Shinobu’s forehead. This girl was acting so stupid for no reason. Well, not no reason, but still.
It was so stupid that Shinobu couldn’t help but laugh. The guilt that was in her lungs still ached with each shake of her chest. It was a pain she couldn’t choke down, a familiar ache that she’d never been able to put down when it came to her. She gently hit the other girl on the shoulder, then looked down to her notes again.
“Shut up, you’re fine.” Shinobu placated. God forbid the other teen spiralled down her track of stupid what-ifs and anxiety. The smile fell from her face though, and she kept her gaze down on her notes.
“Sorry. I, I didn’t mean to get, defensive a second ago.” It felt empty though, and it didn't do anything to numb the ache in her chest. It never did, but she never learned, and Shinobu always did it again. When she looked up to gauge the other’s reaction because she couldn’t seem to not wear her heart on her sleeve, she stopped. Kokomi stared at her. Stared at her like it was all the worth in the world to hear those exact pathetic string of words. She looked too trustful and honest and Shinobu looked away because if she kept staring she’d fuck it all up again.
“Just– just get back to work.” Shinobu forced her attention heavily on the notes in front of her, and made sure that when she grabbed the vial of wisteria her hands didn't shake. Kokomi shuffled back to her own spot from before, and was still glancing sideways at Shinobu every now and then.
“...Mhm.”
Shinobu thought about that look for the rest of the night.