A Song In Every Breath

by PomPomChihuahua

Summary:

Genya was in many ways still like that boy who waited at the door for his big brother to come home. Always chasing behind, but where Sanemi used to turn and wait for him with open arms, now all he received was a cold brush off. One harrowing encounter with a demon leaves Genya defenseless and in need of care. Can Sanemi overcome his reservations and help Genya return to full strength?

Notes:

Hi everyone! I'm going to be prioritizing this fic for awhile because I want to update it on a biweekly basis. I already have the next chapter written out so it should post on time :) This is gonna be my longest fic yet and I hope you all bear with me!
This takes place between the entertainment district arc and the swordsmith village arc.
This chapter was betad by the lovely Princeblue! Go read their works too!!

This is also a sequel fic to Breathless but you don't have to read that fic

Chapter 1: Time and Again Boys are Raised to be Men

Notes:

Edit: I was looking back over and realized an entire chunk of the first chapter was missing! Whoops. I went back and fixed it so now it makes sense haha

Winter was, by far, Genya’s least favorite season. Crops withered and animals hid away for months on end, making food scarce. The trees lost all the vibrancy of fall and had none of the beautiful flowers of spring or the lush greens of summer. The days were shorter, leaving less time for chores and labor and the nights were long. But worst of all was the cold.

 

The kind of cold that made your fingers ache and turn pale, the kind that stole the very breath from Genya’s lungs.

 

Ever since Genya fell ill five seasons ago, he had been afflicted. The doctor they had called had used all sorts of fancy words to describe it, but all Genya knew was that it meant he couldn’t do a lot of the things he used to do. Things that came easy to him before he’d gotten sick were now off-limits. Things like helping his brother in the fields, beating the dust from the carpets, or even just running to and from were suddenly dangerous.

 

“Nemi, I can help! I promise I won’t get hurt or sick! A-and,” he cuts off as Sanemi raises a hand to silence him, eyes sharp.

 

“No, Genya. Old lady Chiyo needs me to do some heavy lifting for her today and you’ll just get in the way.”  He pauses as Genya visibly deflates and kneels so he’s just below Genya’s eye level. “But our little brothers and sisters will need you! Ma needs her rest and we really need this money so that means you’re the only one who can do this for me, okay? Remember our promise?”

 

“From now on, you and I will protect our mother and our younger siblings.”

 

Genya would never forget Sanemi’s smile that day after he had told him that that’s what they’d already been doing. It was the truth after all.

 

Their father’s passing had made life easier for the family in a multitude of ways, but poverty still haunted the family of eight. After the birth of Koto, Shizu had barely taken a full day to rest before she was up and back to work from dusk to dawn. With seven mouths to feed now, she couldn’t afford to waste even that meager amount of time.

 

Sanemi had also taken to picking up as many odd jobs as he possibly could. As the man of the house and official head of the family in the eyes of the law, he had become their main breadwinner at just twelve years old. Between the two of them, they were managing to stay afloat, able to buy just enough food and clothing to get by, as rotten or ragged as they were. However, with the two of them gone all day, it fell to Genya to take care of their siblings. This, of course, suited Sanemi just fine.

 

Genya’s now delicate constitution meant he wasn’t fit for labor like Sanemi and Shizu were. Especially now that the snow had started.

 

“Do you understand, Genya? Your job is just as important as mine.”

 

His sweet baby brother who shouldered more than any child his age should and asked for more. Genya nods and concedes and though there was disappointment in his eyes, so too was determination.

 

“I won’t let you down!”

 

“I know you won’t, Gen.” He ruffles Genya’s hair, smiling at the giggle it elicits.  “And remember-”

 

“-to stay warm, I know, I know!”

 

Sanemi chuckles and slides on his shoes by the door. “Good boy.”

 

And as Sanemi walks out the door, Genya is left with a sinking feeling, like a rock had settled in his tummy. He’d always been an anxious child, something that had irritated their father. He’s pulled from his thought by a tug at his sleeve, little Shuuya staring up at him imploringly.

 

“Genya-nii, Koto had another accident!”

 

Genya pushes aside his feelings. His baby siblings needed him to be strong like Sanemi or their mom. So, he ignores the lump in his chest and rolls up his sleeves.

 

---

 

Ten years later, Genya was in many ways still like that boy who waited at the door for his big brother to come home. Always chasing behind, but where Sanemi used to turn and wait for him with open arms, now all he received was a cold brush off.

 

He sighs and slides the magazine out of his shotgun, then presses the action release lever and pulls back the action to check the internal magazine for extra shotgun shells. With the endcap unscrewed he’s able to pull the barrel out and get started on the trigger assembly. Once that was out, he was able to take out the bolt carrier and bolt and get started on meticulously cleaning each piece.

 

He hums absently under his breath, tongue poking out from his lips as he slides the cleaning rag up the cool metal. He found the process to be calming, a surefire way to cool the fiery emotions that licked at his heart.

 

He’s rudely pulled from his concentration state, however, by a loud, boorish voice.

 

“OI! Oi, Tenya! Nenya! Genta!”

 

His brow twitches with irritation as he tries to ignore the boar head and finish his evening ritual. Inosuke, however, does not take this unspoken challenge lightly.

 

“OOOIII! YENGA! BENYA! TANGA!”

 

“WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!”

 

Inosuke cackles at his outburst, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He jabs his finger at Genya’s still-full bowl of rice and meat.

 

“You gonna eat that?”

 

“Huh?”

 

He was surprised the guy was even bothering to ask instead of just taking it. Though he supposed it may have had something to do with the way Kamado held him back from his spot between Agatsuma and the boar.

 

“Look, Inosuke you can have some of mine,” Tanjirou starts, before Genya rolls his eyes and slides his bowl toward Inosuke with his socked foot. The ill-mannered boy rips himself out of Tanjirou’s grip and dives at it, shoveling the food into his mouth like an animal. Tanjirou smiles at him then, sickeningly sweet.

 

“You didn’t have to share all of it. Now what are you gonna eat?”

 

“Nothing. Not hungry.”

 

“You should at least try to eat a little!”

 

Genya grunts as he puts away the pieces of the gun, screwing the endcap back on with a flick of his wrist.

 

“Not. Hungry.”

 

“But-!”

 

He snaps the lock to his gun case shut and climbs to his feet. The wisteria house in this damn Podunk town only had one guest room to accommodate all four of them, meaning he couldn’t just simply request another room.

 

He ignores Kamado’s protests and steps outside into the cool evening air. The sun would be setting soon, which meant it was time for him to head out anyway.

 

They were camped at this Wisteria house nearby where their latest target had been sighted. Supposedly, every slayer they had sent before had just… vanished. It seemed the corps was hoping that by sending multiple slayers, they’d be able to watch each other's backs.

 

There were even whispers of the Hashira getting involved with this case if they were to fail. With the stakes set so high, this could be Genya’s chance to move up another rank and inch ever closer to the Hashira status. He simply couldn’t fail.

 

Unfortunately, this also meant he was stuck with Tanjirou Kamado and his two equally annoying friends.

 

He had already spent most of the day investigating what he could. It was a close-knit community that had been shaken up by the sudden uptick in disappearances. They were, understandably, wary of outsiders waltzing into town to ask about the disappearances that even they didn’t understand.

 

The slew of demon slayers that had come before them only to end up missing didn’t help. From what Genya had gathered from the townsfolk, was that anyone who stayed out after dark or who went looking for the others would vanish, leaving nothing behind but the clothing on their backs.

 

Additionally, he found that the demon didn’t seem to have a preferred target. Most demons favored a certain demographic like women or children within a certain age range. But with this demon men, women, and children of all age groups seemed to be fair game. This meant that he might be able to use himself as bait to attract the demon, but without any more information on how it was making people disappear, that could be risky. But what choice did he have? It’s not like he could let anyone else be taken.

 

Mind made up, he heads for the entrance to the grounds, only to be stopped, yet again, by Kamado.

 

“Genya, wait!”

 

“I told you not to call me by my name.”

 

He’s completely brushed off as Kamado barrels on.

 

“We’ve got to stick together, remember? To make sure none of us disappear.”

 

Agatsuma, who stands just behind Kamado looking as nervous as ever, shudders at the word ‘disappear,’ clinging to the back of Kamado’s haori. Genya rolls his eyes.

 

“I don’t need your help. Don’t get cocky just because you faced an upper moon. You weren’t promoted to hashira ‘cause you didn’t kill them on your own. Well, I’ll kill this demon on my own and get promoted.”

 

“Promote you? So, they’ll pay you more?” Agatsuma pipes up. Genya glares the guy back into submission and his stupid, blonde head disappears behind Kamado’s shoulder with an “eep!”

 

“None of your damn business. Now if you want to waste your time stuffing your faces, be my guest, but I’m going.”

 

With that, he pushes open the doors to the front gate, stepping out into the snowy street. There was less than an hour of daylight left, so he needed to get moving. Much to his dismay, the boar guy rushes past him in a blur of gray fur and tanned skin.

 

“Not if we find the demon first!”

 

“Inosuke! It’s not a competition!”

 

Genya scoffs. As if these idiots would ever find the demon making all that ruckus. Based on what he had gathered, this demon preferred to lay low and quiet, just under the noses of the townspeople and demon slayers alike.

 

He turns on his heel, moving in the opposite direction that Inosuke had run in. Kamado glances between Genya and Inosuke’s fast retreating back, face conflicted.

 

“L-look, we should really all work together! I’ll go fetch Inosuke and then we can meet back up, okay!”

 

Genya doesn’t deign to answer him.

 

“Why do you want to work with him anyways? He’s scary! Didn’t you hear the sound he lets off? It’s unlike any human I’ve heard before. It’s almost demo-”

 

“Zenitsu.”

 

Genya barely stutters in his walking, scoffing to himself. He may not have freaky super hearing like that yellow guy, but his hearing worked just fine. Good fucking riddance.

 

As he makes his way to the edge of town, he observes the way the townspeople watch him with wary eyes. Mothers usher their children inside, fearing the approaching night. Even the drunkards had stumbled their way home, too scared to tempt their fate with the demon. It had started snowing at some point, a thick flurry of sparkling, white snow. It was enough to obscure the vision of any normal man. But Genya’s sharp eyes cut through the darkness.

 

He pauses at the edge of town, facing the forest and exhaling just to watch his breath condense. Now, all he had to do was wait.

 

Footsteps approach from behind him. He whirls around in an instant, already on edge. He finds a kindly old woman, standing just at the end of the road. She’s dressed in traditional Miko robes, graying hair tied back in a low ponytail by white ribbons. The illumination from the town behind her casts her face in shadows.

 

“Are you lost, dearie? It’s dangerous to be outside all alone in the snow like this. You’ll catch your death, you know!”

 

“Speak for yourself. You should go inside, baba.”

 

She chuckles, covering her mouth politely. A lock of hair escapes her ribbon and falls in her face, which she brushes back behind her ear.

 

“Come now, a sickly boy like you should stay warm!”

 

He pauses. Sickly?

 

The woman approaches him, holding out a lightly wrinkled hand for him to take.

 

“You can stay with me for the night! I live at the shrine just up the mountain. There’s warm food and blankets for you there.”

 

Just before her hand can touch him, he steps out of her reach, hand reaching for his gun.

 

“What makes you think I’m sickly?”

 

“Why, your breaths, child! There’s music in your chest. One of the girls at the shrine had the same issue. First came the whistling chest, then the shortness of breath. It was especially bad in the winter.”

 

She inches toward him again and finally, he can see her face, illuminated in the moonlight. She had deep laugh lines that creased her eyes and mouth with a gentle set to her brows. She looked just like anyone’s grandmother.

 

But there was something about her that just felt off. His grip tightens on his gun hilt. The woman reaches for him again.

 

They’re pulled from their standoff by the sound of Kamado yelling for him.

 

“Genya! You found the demon!”

 

In an instant, he’s leaping back and away from the woman, drawing his gun and aiming for the old woman’s head. He fires, but she’s gone in a flash, appearing again just beside him.

 

She reaches for him again, only to have her hand sawed off by Inosuke, who leaps between them, guffawing wildly. The hand lands in the snow with a muted thump, dissolving to ash.

 

“This is the demon? She doesn’t look so tough to me!”

 

“Don’t let your guard down!”

 

The woman stumbles back, clutching her bleeding wrist. She weeps, blackened tears streaming down her face.

 

“I don’t understand! I’m just trying to help!”

 

Zenitsu screams as she lurches toward him, arms outstretched.

 

“Creepy old lady! Monster woman! AAIIEEE!” He wildly swings his sword, back peddling away from her as Tanjirou steps between them, stabbing his sword into her chest and slashing upward toward her neck. She jerks backward and away from the blade, wailing in agony.

 

“Naughty children! Horrid! Wicked children!” She shrieks as her nails sharpen into claws.

 

“I can smell a blood demon art on her! I think it’s activated by touch! Whatever you do, don’t let her touch you!”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” He shouts back at Kamado as he shoots and takes off the old woman’s arm. Inosuke lunges toward her, swords pointed downward in a criss-cross as he plunges toward her. The swords dig into the snow as the woman seems to melt into the storm.

 

The boar head snorts in frustration, looking around wildly for the woman.

 

An icy arrow soars from the darkness, sinking into Inosuke’s bicep followed shortly by the demon appearing just beside him, trying to engulf the boy in what looked like a very aggressive hug. He’s alerted to her presence as Zenitsu shrieks a warning. Inosuke ducks under her grasping arms and attempts to stab the woman’s vulnerable belly, missing by an inch as she vanishes again.

 

“Damnit! Stop running!”

 

A barrage of arrows emerges from the dark, whizzing through the air faster than any normal arrow possibly could. One stabbed clean through Tanjirou’s calf, another slicing through Zenitsu’s side and Genya’s shoulder. Tanjirou falls to one knee, unable to support his weight on his injured leg while Zenitsu cries out at the sight of his own blood staining the snow. Zenitsu’s eyes roll into the back of his head before he collapses face-first into the snow.  

 

And just like before, the old woman appears soon after, this time just behind Tanjirou, reaching a withered hand for his face.

 

“Kamado!”

 

Genya has no time to think about his next action, just acts. He pulls out his wakizashi and tackles the woman, grabbing hold of her and plunging the short sword into her neck just as the sensation of what feels like pure fire jolts through his body. The sword shatters against her neck, and Genya has just a few seconds to feel the despair of failure before everything goes black.

 

Tanjirou watches in horror Genya seems to melt before his eyes. He screams, the sound tearing out of him. He may not know Genya well, but he could smell the litany of emotions on him. The gentle kindness layered under the pain and anger. He’d wanted to get to know the other boy more, but now…

 

His body burns and his forehead feels as though it were on fire. His heartbeat doubles as he plunges his sword into the snow, using it as a crutch to pull himself up. The crone melts into the snow once again and Tanjirou can feel his anger rising. He had little patience for cowards.

 

“Show yourself, demon!”

 

He freezes as the hair on the back of his neck stands up. Arms appear on either side of him, closing in fast. But with a crack of thunder, Zenitsu’s swords zigzags around him, cleanly slicing the flesh off in the blink of an eye. His breath hisses through his lips, eyes closed as he leans forward, prepared to strike again.

 

Inosuke joins them, and the three boys close in back-to-back, each scanning their surroundings. She wouldn’t get the jump on them this time. Zenitsu’s head tilts back and forth, a clear indication that he’s listening for the woman’s presence. Tanjirou strains his sense of smell, but it's futile. He could smell her presence everywhere as if the woman had become the snow itself.

 

They don’t have to wait long for her to act. Arrows emerge once again from the dark storm, aiming to separate them. Where they had been moving fast before, now they seemed so slow to Tanjirou, who managed to slice them out of the air. And just like before, the woman appears soon after the arrows foolishly assuming that Zenitsu would be the easiest target with his eyes closed in slumber.

 

“Thunder breathing. First form. Thunderclap and flash.”

 

He aims for her neck but only manages to slice her horizontally down the middle. Inosuke jumps in next, pinning the demon’s arms to the ground with his swords, leaving the perfect opening for Tanjirou to finish the demon off.

 

And as the demon releases her last cry, Tanjirou feels the weight of another death on his shoulders. He collapses to his knees, mournfully looking to the place where Genya had made his last stand. All to protect him, a boy he didn’t even like. But as he stares at the pile of clothes, he notices movement. He tilts his head to the side, nose twitching to pick up any scent or sign of Genya.

 

He struggles to stand, limping his way to the purple bundle and slowly peeling back the cloth.

 

There, swaddled in his now too-big clothes, was Genya, but over a decade younger than the Genya they knew. He’s knocked out cold, shivering from the cold and so achingly tiny. He gathers the small bundle into his arms, shock numbing his body to everything around him. He’s snapped out of his trance by Zenitsu, who drops to his knees beside him, eyes wide. He hadn’t even noticed the other boy snapping out of his sleep-like trance.

 

“Is that?”

 

“I think… I think it is… This must be how the demon made so many people go missing. All it would take is one touch… and if they didn’t know she was a demon… they probably let their guard down.”

 

Matsuemon circled overhead, screeching before alighting on Tanjirou’s shoulder.

 

“The demon ate well! Caw! On women and children! Demons grow strong fast! CAW!”

 

Tanjirou winces as his crow screams directly into his ear. Genya stirs in his arms, brow furrowed in unrest. Tanjirou cradles the bundle closer to his chest, supporting the back of his head.

 

He climbs to his feet, careful not to jostle the small child in his arms. He fends off Inosuke, who attempts to prod at the boy, the scent of curiosity wafting off of him. Zenitsu stands as well, sending one last anxious glance toward the demon, who was almost dissolved by now.

 

“What… what do we do now?”

 

“Caw! Return to the wisteria house! For healing! Caw! The doctor awaits!”

 

“Zenitsu, can you grab his gun and the rest of his clothes?” Tanjirou asks as he works on properly swaddling Genya in his shirt and haori for warmth. “And Inosuke… please, can you stop doing that?” He swats at Inosuke’s hand.

 

“That old hag’s blood demon art made Tenya all tiny and weak.”

 

“A child, Inosuke.”

 

“Like I said, tiny and weak.”

 

Tanjirou sighs and nods. “Yeah, Inosuke.”

Notes:

There's a whole backstory for the old woman demon.

Her human name was Himeya and she was a Miko that lived in the shrine up the mountain. She would take in and care for lost or sick children who wandered up the mountain until she was able to find them a home. She would spend every day walking up and down the mountain path to see if any of the village children had gotten lost, trained in combat with bow and arrow as most miko were. She froze to death up in the mountains one winter until a demon found her and resurrected her with Muzan's permission and blood. She still wanders the mountainside, looking for lost children to bring home and care for.

Chapter 2: Turn Back the Time That Drew Him

Notes:

I know I said biweekly but with the first glimpse of my son Genya coming out today, I got so excited I had to post! The next chapter will be two weeks from now though! Flashbacks are in Italics
Thank you again to PrinceBlue for beta reading! Please go check out their works they're really amazing!

As the days progress through the winter, so too does the cold. With the coming weeks comes the frost that coats the world in a blanket of white. And with it, comes the nagging.

 

“Genya-nii! Sanemi-nii’s gonna be real mad if he sees you outside!”

 

“Then don’t tell him!”

 

He huffs and continues his way out the door, brushing off Hiroshi’s concern. Who cared if he went outside as long as he had his jacket on? He needed to fetch some food from the market and he couldn’t send Hiroshi because he was shoveling snow in front of the house and he couldn’t send Teiko, because she had to fetch some fresh water for them. And his other siblings were too young to count money, and if you couldn’t count money well then the local merchants would swindle them.

 

They hadn’t had a meal yesterday and they needed to eat today so it was up to Genya to barter for food. It wasn’t like it was physically demanding like lugging water or shoveling snow, so he didn’t see the problem at all. Sanemi and Ma were busy working to get more money for them and Genya had to do his part too. With Koto, Sumi, and Shuuya put down for their naps, this was the perfect time.

 

His feet sink into the snow with every step, making the trek harder than Genya had expected. But it was no problem, the stores weren’t far off. He takes a moment to lean on a nearby building to catch his breath.

 

He manages to catch the eye of one of the merchants selling fresh meat and rice and he straightens up, trying to look as put together as he can. His ma told him he had to be confident or the merchants would eat him alive. He approaches the old man with as much swagger as he can manage.

 

“How much for the beef cutlets?”

 

“Five yen.”

 

“I, uh. Th-that’s…”

 

He only had eighteen yen. They needed fourteen yen for this month’s rent which meant they only had four yen to use at the market. All in all, it had been a really good month for them, yet it still wasn’t enough for meat.

 

“H-how much for the rice?”

 

“For a whole bag? Two yen.”

 

Genya breathes a sigh of relief. Two three-pound bags of rice could feed them for a little over a week. It wasn’t much and they’d have to eat light but it was something. Genya smiles brightly and proudly brandishes four yen.

 

“Two bags, please!”

 

“You sure you can carry all that, kid?”

 

Genya nods and shoves the yen in the older man’s outstretched hand. He was starting to get really tired of everyone questioning him like this. The man shrugs and drops the bags at his feet, enough food for them to live for one whole week.

 

He struggles to lug the big bags over his shoulders, stumbling slightly as he’s thrown off balance. They were a little heavier than he was expecting but nothing he couldn’t handle! Though the thick layer of snow certainly didn’t help. The added weight only made him sink further into the slush, slowing him down and wearing him out long before he was even halfway home.

 

Okay. Maybe it was more than he could handle.

 

His lungs burned with each labored step, air whistling through his chest in an exhausted wheeze. But he refused to be seen as weak, he was so tired of being treated like he was fragile. He had to prove that he could help, that he could take care of his family like Sanemi asked of him.

 

One of the rice bags slips from his shoulder and he tips to the side, unbalanced. He crashes into the snow, knocking what little air is in his chest out. He gasps for breath, coughing and choking as his vision swims. He has no idea how long he lies there in the cold, struggling to catch his breath before he’s able to struggle back to his feet.

 

His coat is now soaked in melted snow and his teeth chatter from the cold. He could feel his airways narrowing from the cold, and it was only a matter of time before he started hyperventilating. Thankfully, the house is within sight now, and relief courses through him.

 

Until he spots Sanemi standing just outside, storming in his direction. He cringes as Sanemi snatches the rice bags from him and ushers him inside.

 

“What are you-” He coughs, wheezing. “W-what are you doing here?”

 

Sanemi crossed his arms, leveling him with a disappointed glare that looked eerily similar to their Ma’s.

 

From the doorway, their little siblings peek into the room, smelling blood in the water.

 

“Hiroshi told me you went to the market,” Sanemi begins, not realizing his mistake in naming the culprit. Genya’s eyes land on Hiroshi’s sheepish face.

 

“You tattled on me?!”

 

Hiroshi yelps and ducks behind the door frame as Genya lunges over to smack the little betrayer. Sanemi easily catches Genya in his arms mid-leap, tsking in irritation.

 

“I would have found out anyway.”

 

Genya ignores him, instead glaring at Hiroshi in a way that lets him know his revenge is nigh.

 

Sanemi shakes him lightly, forcefully garnering the boy’s attention.

 

“Why would you go outside when we told you-”

 

“Because we needed food! And you and Ma were busy and so were Hiroshi and Teiko and the babies can’t count yet a-and I wanted to help!”

 

“You do help! You help by taking care of the babies and by staying safe. You know how the cold affects you! We need to protect this family, Genya.”

 

He pulls Genya into a hug, abrupt and just shy of rough.

 

“You scared me. I-I didn’t know what to think when Hiroshi told me you’d been gone for over an hour.”

 

Just how long had he been lying there? His thoughts are interrupted by a sneeze. Sanemi pulls away and presses a hand to his forehead, hissing at the cold temperature. He was freezing. He sighs.

 

“C’mon, let’s get you warmed up. I’ll cook us some rice too.”

 

---

 

They manage to limp their way back to the wisteria house, ignoring the way the villagers peeked out their windows at them, whispering amongst themselves. Tanjirou grits his teeth as he forces himself forward with each agonizing step. The arrow had not only pierced his calf but frozen the flesh and muscle around it, paralyzing most of his leg.

 

Zenitsu lists to one side, clutching his wounded side. Thankfully, the arrow had mostly grazed him, leaving him mostly unharmed. As he watches Tanjirou struggle to walk on his bum leg, he listens to the tune of his own guilty heart, still racing from adrenaline and blood loss. If he were only stronger, faster, braver, maybe he could have saved his friends from their pain. Tanjirou carried the weight of Genya’s sacrifice when Zenitsu was sure it was his fault too.

 

So, he gently nudges Tanjioru’s shoulder on his bad side, guiding him to wrap his arm around his shoulder so he could help support his weight with Genya tucked into the crook of his right arm. Inosuke eyes the two boys before moving to walk ahead of them, making sure they had a clear, unobstructed path and opening the wisteria house doors for them.

 

Tanjirou shoots them both a grateful smile. No matter their flaws, his friends always came through for him.

 

The doctor is there to greet them as soon as they arrive at the wisteria house. He seems only mildly surprised by the presence of the small child bundled in Tanjirou’s arms. When he tries to relieve Tanjirou of his burden, he’s politely shrugged off.

 

“Follow me to the back room and I’ll patch up all of your wounds and look over the little one.”

 

Making it up the steps to the main house was the hardest part, but they managed. They’re quickly ushered into the examination room where the doctor promptly cleans and wraps all of their wounds. They’re recommended to stay on bed rest for at least a week while their wounds close.

 

The doctor hems and haws, thoroughly inspecting every inch of the still-sleeping boy while Tanjirou and Zenitsu look on worriedly. Inosuke lounged just behind them, uninterested in the boring examination.

 

“Well,” he starts, sitting back and folding his hands in his lap. “he looks healthy, if a little malnourished. As far as I can tell. This is clearly the work of some strong magic and I have no idea what kind of strain that could have on his body. I’ve already taken the liberty of penning Kochou-san about this issue. As an expert on demonic physiology, she would be much better suited to taking care of him.”

 

Just as the doctor finishes speaking, a crow with a small butterfly clip lands on the window sill, holding out its leg for them to take the note strapped to it.

 

“Ah, that should be her response right there. Quite timely, as always.” He gently takes the note from the crow and unravels it, scanning the page. “You are to return to the butterfly estate with Genya in the morning. We will pack you some supplies for your travels and some Kakushi will arrive to help escort you.”

 

With that, the doctor politely bows before exiting the room. Tanjirou releases a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He can’t quite stop himself from scooping Genya back into his arms, the weight and feel of something so small and alive is so achingly familiar that he almost wants to cry.

 

A few hours pass like that, with the three boys resting in their room, all while Genya sleeps soundly. He’d been dressed in too-big spare clothes provided by the wisteria house.

 

Tanjirou can feel his worry rising the longer the boy sleeps, however. Surely he should have woken up by now? What if he never woke up? Zenitsu and Inosuke attempt to distract the red-headed boy from his quickly spirally thoughts. Not that he has to worry for much longer.

 

All three of them freeze in place as Genya, who had been tucked into one of the futons provided for them, shifts and squirms, nose wrinkling as violet eyes flutter open.  They shift to groggily look around the room, blinking slowly at the ceiling.

 

He abruptly sits up, now wide awake. This wasn’t his house. His eyes land on Inosuke first, who is, unfortunately, still clad in his mask. The reaction is almost immediate. Genya dives out of bed, scrabbling on all fours to reach the door with desperation born out of raw terror.

 

Tanjirou jumps to his feet and promptly collapses again, having forgotten one of his legs was out of commission. Zenitsu, unsure what to do, throws himself between Genya and the door, spreading out his arms to block the exit with a “Wait!!”

 

Genya takes this about as well as you would expect; he bursts into tears.

 

“Nii-chan!” he wails. “Nii-chan, help! There’s a monster!!” 

 

Zenitsu waves his hands frantically, looking to Tanjirou for some kind of cue on what to do.

 

“There’s no monster! Promise! Inosuke, take off that stupid mask!”

 

Inosuke scoffs and crosses his arms.

 

“Why should I?”

 

Zenitsu stares at Inosuke incredulously, glancing between him and the bawling child on the floor before settling a look at Tanjirou with a ‘can you believe this fucking guy?’ expression. Tanjirou, still sprawled on the floor from where he fell, shoots a pleading look at Inosuke.

 

“Please? I’ll give you my tempura next time we get some?”

 

Inosuke freezes in place, clearly thinking about it, before reaching up and yanking the boar mask off his head. His hair frizzes from the friction, crystal clear green eyes fluttering slightly as the unfiltered light reaches him.

 

Genya’s breath hitches with a sob. He isn’t even looking at Inosuke, curling into a ball with his hands covering the back of his head. Tanjirou scoots closer to the boy, laying a gentle, calloused hand on his back, heart hurting at the full body flinch it elicits.

 

“Hey,” he speaks gently, with all the kindness in his heart. He just hopes it’s enough to reach the boy. “I promise, there’s no monsters here. ‘Cause we’re monster fighters! See, look at our uniforms.”

 

Genya hiccups miserably, shaking his head. “Nuh-uh! I saw it! The boar man is gonna eat me! I want my Nii-chan!”

 

Tanjirou thinks back to when he was asking around about the mysterious mohawked boy. Wasn’t his brother…?

 

“You mean Sanemi?”

 

Instantly, the boy peeks up at him from between his knees. “You know my Nii-chan?”

 

“Ehh…” Saying he knew Sanemi was a bit of a stretch but it wasn’t technically a lie. “We met some months back. White hair and purple eyes, long eyelashes.”

 

“That’s him! That’s my Nii-chan! Do you know where he is? Can you help me find him? I want Nemi!!”

 

Tanjirou’s eyes flicker back and forth as he tries to think of what to say. Should he lie? He didn’t know where Sanemi was, and frankly had no desire to find the man after their disastrous first meeting. But Genya was scared and this might be the only way to calm him down. Surely Sanemi would want to know what has happened to his little brother as well.

 

“We can take you to him! I know someone who can contact him to come find you.”

 

Genya cautiously glances around, then scoots toward Tanjirou, holding out a pinky.

 

“Promise?”

 

Tanjirou smiles at the soft, childish gesture. His little siblings used to insist on doing the same with him. He was confident Kochou-san could get ahold of Sanemi for them. So, he wraps his own pinky around Genya’s and shakes on it.

 

“I promise.”

 

He slowly uncurls from his defensive position, blinking up at Tanjirou curiously. He really was in some sort of weird uniform.

 

“And you promise there’s no monster here?”

 

“None! I’ve got a really good sense of smell, you see.” He points at his nose, flaring his nostrils goofily to try and get a reaction from the boy. “I would have sniffed them right out if they were here! And then I’d headbutt them! Like bang! Pow! My head is harder than a stone, you know!”

 

“Nuh-uh!”

 

“Yeah-huh,” Zenitsu pipes in. “You should have seen him headbutt Inosuke! I thought he was gonna die,” he snickers.

 

This, of course, sets off Inosuke, who immediately brains Zenitsu with the nearest object, which blessedly happened to be the pillow from his futon. Zenitsu goes down with a shriek, finally garnering a giggle from Genya.

 

Tanjirou smiles warmly in response, glad to see that the boy had forgotten about the “monster” long enough to smile again. He tugs on Tanjirou’s haori insistently.

 

“So, when are you gonna take me to my brother?”

 

“Soon! We’re gonna spend the night here, first. Then, we’re gonna go on a big trip! To a mansion!” He pauses for the boy’s gasp of awe before continuing. “Then, when we’re at the butterfly mansion, we’ll be able to call your brother to come find you. So just a couple of days, okay?”

 

“Days?!”

 

He’d never been separated from Sanemi for more than a few hours at most! Ever since Genya’s birth, they’d been attached at the hip.

 

“I wanna go now! I want my Nii-chan!!”

 

“And I promised we’d take you to him! But we’re very hurt and don’t have any supplies and it will take at least a couple of days to get there. But we’ll keep you safe in the meantime and you’ll get to see your Nii-chan before you even know it!”

 

“How’d you get so hurt?”

 

“By fighting monsters!”

 

“Are you really that good at fighting monsters if you get that hurt doing it?”

 

“Why you, little-!” Inosuke lunges for Genya, who scuttles behind Tanjirou. Tanjirou holds the other boy back with the help of Zenitsu. It takes a full five minutes to distract the green-eyed boy. Once everyone settles down Tanjirou turns his attention back onto Genya.

 

“We’re working on it. Getting stronger, I mean. We want to be strong enough that we don’t have to worry about losing anyone else.” The image of flaming hair and eyes plays in his mind. “So that nobody has to get hurt trying to protect me.” He regards Genya warmly, the brave boy who risked his life for a boy he didn’t even like.

 

Lost in thought, he almost misses the way Genya’s tummy growls. The boy seems unphased by the sound, barely showing any indication that he is hungry at all. Tanjirou feels worry turn in his stomach. Nezuko used to do the same thing when food was scarce, pretending like she wasn’t hungry at all. Instead, Genya just yawns and stretches.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

“Nuh-uh.” His tummy growls again as if to call him a liar.

 

“You don’t have to pretend! There’s plenty of food here and there’s no catch.” He remembers the way Genya had refused to eat earlier and the sick worried feeling grows. How long had it been since he’d had a proper meal? That combined with the blood demon art… he must be starving!

 

Mind made up, he climbs to his feet. “I’ll go ask them now. Do you have any food preferences? You know what, I’ll just get a little bit of everything. Whatever you don’t eat, we can!”

 

With that, he steps out of the room with purpose. Inosuke, ears perking up at the word “food,” jumps up to follow. Zenitsu looks between their retreating backs and the literal child they just left him with and decides it’s probably better for him to stay. He sits on the futon across from the boy and crosses his arms, pretending to be fascinated with the birds just outside the window.

 

The awkward silence stretches between them, but for Zenitsu, no moment is ever truly quiet. He can hear the soft gurgling of the boy’s empty stomach, the rushing noise of his blood flowing through his veins, and the pumping of his heart. While it wasn’t as rabbit-fast and thready as before, it still beat faster than normal, a testament to just how nervous the kid was.

 

Ever since he had woken, his heart had beat a song of constant anxiety, a tune that wasn’t so different from Zenitsu’s rhythm. But he had zero clue how to comfort the child, hell, he didn’t know how to calm himself down.

 

Genya breaks the not-silence first.

 

“How’d you become a monster fighter? You don’t seem very strong.”

 

“’Cause I’m not. There’s hundreds of demon slayers way more talented than me.”

 

“Then why do you stay?”

 

“…There are people that I can’t let down.”

 

“Oh. Oh.” Genya fidgets in place, unsure what to say to that. It was a familiar sentiment to him. He wanted desperately to ease the burden on his mother and brother. “Do you… think they’re proud of you?”

 

Zenitsu’s eyes go wide and glassy, and Genya shifts uncomfortably. Had he said something strange?

 

Thankfully, Tanjirou and Inosuke return soon, arms full to bursting with food. Genya gapes at them as Tanjirou arranges the food on the table, batting away Inosuke’s grabby hands.

 

“All right! Take your pick, Genya! There’s beef, fish, chicken, pork, plenty of rice, and some soup!” He sets a plate in front of Genya and piles on tons of meat and rice as he speaks, pushing it toward the boy. “It’s all delicious though! Look! Here’s some steamed fatsia sprouts! Those are my favorites, you know! And some tempura!”

 

Genya, thoroughly overwhelmed, shakes his head and stares at the plate as if it may attack him. All this food? For free? He looks around the room for the rest of his family, despite knowing they weren’t there. It felt… wrong to eat without them. To not share this food with his family who surely needed it more. Ma was pregnant and needed all the strength she could get. Teiko, Hiroshi, and Shuuya were all so little, they needed the food to grow up big and strong.

 

“I know you’re hungry. The master of the house had all this food prepared just for you, you know. So please don’t waste their efforts.”

 

Genya, who had been taught to never waste, hesitantly digs in, starting with the pork cutlets. His eyes light up at the first touch of food to his tongue and it’s like a switch is flipped as he starts practically inhaling his meal. It’s like he’s in a race to see how much food he can eat before it’s taken away from him, scarfing down his rice and licking the bowl to get every last grain. Zenitsu nearly drops his chopsticks in surprise.

 

“He’s got worse table manners than Inosuke!” Tanjirou elbows him in the side. “Ack! What?! He does!”

 

Genya ignores them in favor of shoveling more food into his mouth. He had to eat before Kyogo found him and took it away. He reasons with himself that if he ate today, then he wouldn’t need to eat tomorrow or the day after. He finishes half of his plate before he finally slows down, picking at the bitter fatsia with his chopsticks. Tanjirou fusses, piling more food on Genya’s plate despite his protests. He hated seeing food go to waste but there was simply no way he could eat this much.

 

Ordinarily, he would give all of his food to his little brother and sister and then nap off the hunger. But now, for the first time in a long time, he was sated and full.

 

“Um… Thank you for the meal,” he recites what he’d heard his mother say before every meal. Tanjirou's smile brightens and he figures it must have been the right thing to say.

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it! I’m sure the staff of the house will be very happy to hear it too! And, here-” Tanjirou scoots to Genya’s side of the table and uses the sleeve of his haori to gently wipe Genya’s face. The boy flushes but allows it. Sanemi would usually do the same thing, uncaring of the way it dirtied his white haori.

 

“’m not a baby, you know.”

 

“Oh? Well how old are you?”

 

“I’m four! And I’ll be five in,” he pauses to count on his fingers. “…6 months!”

 

“Wow! And you’re so good at counting already!”

 

His chest puffs out with pride. “Nii-chan taught me! I don’t like math so much but Nemi’s real good with the aba… ababaca.”

 

“The abacus?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“My little sister was really good at math too! She was so fast on the abacus; it was like a blur!”

 

Genya’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, well, my Nii-chan is so good he does all the money stuff! All by himself! And he’s better at math than grownups.”

 

Tanjirou sits up slightly, getting a bit too into this competition. “Nezuko was better than most grownups too! Twelve years old and she could solve all sorts of equations!”

 

“Aha! My Nemi’s ten!” He sticks his tongue out petulantly, pulling down on his left eyelid. Tanjirou gasps and opens his mouth to retort. He doesn’t get the chance because Zenitsu slaps his hand over his mouth.

 

“Okay! Who’s ready for bed?! It’s been a really long night and I’d like to get some sleep before morning!

 

Genya glances out the window at the still dark sky, the moon blotted out by the heavy cloud cover. It felt odd, being awake this late for no good reason. Thoughts swirl through his mind. How did he get here? Last he remembered…

 

His head ached trying to recall. He couldn’t recall where he had been or what he’d been doing before this.

 

Inosuke, whilst they were talking, had easily finished gobbling down the rest of the mountain of food that Tanjirou had brought. It seemed all three of these weirdos were big eaters.

 

He jumps slightly as the door slides open, revealing a middle-aged woman, who greets the boys warmly. Tanjirou helps her clean up the dishes as Zenitsu works on straightening out the futons and pillows. Before long, the room was set up for sleeping.

 

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” Tanjirou asks. Genya shakes his head vehemently. Only Nemi was allowed to tuck him in. And even that had grown increasingly rare, as Genya had picked up the mantle of tucking in the twins and getting baby Shuuya ready for bed in his makeshift crib.

 

He crawls into his designated futon and tries his best to get comfortable. Tanjirou turned out the light as the other two flopped into their futons, wriggling around until they found the best sleeping position. Genya had been given the futon between the strange yellow boy and the boy with earrings.

 

Tanjirou lays awake, just listening to the cadence of his friends’ breathing. He watches Genya from the corner of his eye, observing how he squirmed in his futon.

 

It takes a full ten minutes for the child to settle down before he’s out like a light, falling into a deep, if troubled, sleep. Tanjirou rolls over in his futon, reaching out to lay a hand on the boy’s back, just to feel his breathing. He was sleeping an awful lot, only awake for an hour and a half at most. While it certainly wasn’t out of the ordinary for children to sleep a lot, this situation was a bit different.

 

Eventually, Tanjirou drifts off as well, falling into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

Notes:

You guys will never know how long I spent researching how much rice costs in 1910 Japan. I hope you guys are enjoying the story!! If you are feel free to kudos and comment<3 I love reading your thoughts so much!

Chapter 3: Went Out to Look for a Reason to Hide Again

Notes:

Hi all! I combed over this chapter so many times trying to be satisfied but sometimes it just is what it is!
Beta read by PrinceBlue who helps me out so so much<3 Please go check out their works at https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princeblue

With the arrival of spring, came the warmth and comfort of the sun as the days lengthened once again. With the longer days came better jobs, and better jobs meant more money. It wasn’t much, but the extra pocket change went a long way in making sure the little ones had a decent meal.

 

Those days were some of Genya’s favorites, toiling away in the kitchen with just him and his Ma while Sanemi played with the littler siblings in the other room. The shrieking sounds of their laughter mixed with his Ma’s soft humming.

 

“Genya, sweetie, can you wash the rice for me?”

 

He’s pulled from his musings by his Ma’s voice, jumping into action and taking the rice from her hands. He washed it just like his Ma had shown him before, sifting the rice through the freshwater that Sanemi had fetched just an hour ago. The smell of freshly cooked meat and veggies drifts through the air.

 

Sanemi had gotten a big job just the other day, tending to old man Isao’s farm. He’d spent hours toiling under the sun to till the land and sow the seeds for next fall's harvest. Isao, a decently well-off landowner, had paid Sanemi well for his back-breaking labor, enough to cover rent and then some.

 

Where before they had been living off essentially pennies and dimes, they now had enough money to buy a good, nutritious meal.

 

He brings the washed rice back to his Ma, who praises him with a soft smile and a pet to his hair, nails gently scratching against his scalp pleasantly. He always was of the mind that his mother was simply an amazing person. She worked day after day to scrape together whatever she could for her children even while heavily pregnant, throwing herself between danger and them despite her short, petite stature, and she was always loving to a fault. He admired her.

 

She sets to work on steaming the rice as she sets aside the chopped veggies. Afterward, she fries the meat with the veggies, Genya helping out by fetching all the spices, herbs, and sauces she needs. Before long, Genya grabs the tableware and fixes plates as Sanemi gathers the children around the table. Shizu and Genya entered the living area with arms heaped full of food for everyone, passing out the dishes as the little ones bounced eagerly in place.

 

Koto was still too young to eat solids, but they sat him at the table as well, settling him in between Genya and Sanemi. They say their thanks for the meal and dig in. Genya’s chest feels light with his gratitude and joy.

 

But with every bit of light and happiness, there comes a looming darkness to take it all away in an instant. And their dark cloud, their personal hell, comes drunkenly stumbling through the front door towards the end of their meal. They freeze in place like deer in headlights, staring wide-eyed at his looming presence.

 

He doesn’t take notice of them at first, mumbling slurred nonsense to himself as he leans against the wall. But eventually, the scent of food wafts toward him, drawing his attention.

 

Piercing violet eyes zero in on the family, darting between their mostly empty bowls and terrified faces.

 

“What the hell do you think yer doin’? Havin’ dinner without me?”

 

He straightens to his full, intimidating height, advancing on them.

 

“And where’d you get the cash to make all this, huh?! Can’t even buy myself a decent bottle of sake, but you fucking ingrates and leeches can eat through all my hard-earned yen?!

 

Genya gathers the younger children in his arms, protecting their heads as Kyogo picks up one of the empty plates from the table and hurls it at the wall. The plate shatters against the wall, raining broken glass onto the floor as the man heaves in anger.

 

“Where are you hiding it? Huh?! You bitch! I know you’ve got money hidden somewhere! I’m not fucking stupid! You had to pay for that damned doctor somehow!”

 

Wild, dangerous eyes flicker around the room as he towers over the family before finally landing on Genya. Sanemi, anticipating the man’s next move, lunges across the table but Kyogo easily bats the eleven-year-old boy away as he grabs a fistful of Genya’s mohawk. He drags the child to the center of the room as the younger children scream and reach for him.

 

“Stop! Please!” Shizu weeps, watching the way Genya struggles to stand on his tiptoes to alleviate the pain in his scalp. His hands reach up to clutch Kyogo’s in a desperate attempt to pry his fingers away. “Kyogo, dear, we can talk about this, please!”

 

She lifts her hands in surrender, inching closer to the ticking time bomb of a man. Sanemi picks himself up off the floor, glaring daggers at Kyogo but knowing better than to jump in while Genya is held hostage.

 

“I don’t want to talk about anything! I want my goddamn money!” He violently shakes Genya in his grasp, making the boy cry out. Blood runs down the side of his head as part of his scalp rips.

 

The other children huddle close to each other for comfort, Hiroshi and Teiko taking the liberty to shield the younger kids’ eyes.

 

“I swear I’ll bash his fucking head in. You should have let him die the first time but I’ll be glad to finish the job now if you don’t fess up.”

 

“It’s under the kitchen floorboards!” Sanemi bursts out before Shizu gets the chance. “Across from the hearth, there’s a loose floorboard with a satchel of yen.”

 

His eyes land on Sanemi and narrow. “If you’re lying to me, boy, I’ll fucking end you.”

 

Sanemi stares back, jaw set stubbornly and giving nothing away. Kyogo scoffs and drops Genya and the boy collapses to his knees. Kyogo kicks him out of his path as he beelines for the kitchen to rummage through the floorboards.

 

Sanemi and Shizu rush to Genya’s side, Sanemi dropping to his knees to help Genya sit up so they can survey the damage. The tear in his scalp is thankfully small, and Shizu clutches her boys to her chest in relief and fear.

 

Kyogo must find what he’s looking for because he crows in victory, stumbling back to his feet and emptying the satchel into his spare hand.

 

“Ha! Looks like your life is only worth fifteen yen, boy.” Shizu flinches and he brushes past the cowering family and sits down at the table as if he belonged there. “Fix me some dinner, woman.”

 

Nobody moves and Genya hardly dares to even breathe.

 

“Haah?! Are you deaf or just dumb?! I said fix. Me. Some. Dinner.”

 

Shizu’s arms loosen around Sanemi and Genya, brushing off their clinging hands.

 

“…Yes, dear.”

 

She stands, knowing better than to linger for too long. The man would eat more than his fill and then leave for days on end again, blowing their money on God only knew what. But they’d be free of him for just a little longer. She leaves them clinging to each other and shuffles back to the kitchen.

 

---

 

Genya jerks awake with a silent gasp, tears beading in his eyes. He slaps his hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out, not wanting to wake his siblings. He glances around the room, the events of just a couple of hours ago coming back all at once.

 

He wasn’t home with his siblings at all. But most importantly, his father wasn’t there either.

 

“Genya?” A groggy voice calls out in the darkness and Genya jumps slightly, wide eyes swiveling towards the red-headed boy. Tanjirou, he thinks. Though he doesn’t recall them ever introducing themselves, he finds that he just knows. “Is everything okay?”

 

Tears well in Genya’s eyes, hand still clasped over his mouth. His breath hitches and he slowly shakes his head no as Tanjirou, now wide awake, sits up.

 

“Did you have a nightmare?” He wasn’t sure though. Was it a nightmare or a memory?

 

The boy nods frantically as the tears bubble over, sliding down his chubby cheeks. Tanjirou feels his heart sting as he gathers the boy in a hug. He squirms uncomfortably in his arms at first before settling in his warmth, collapsing against his chest to soak his uniform with tears.

 

Across the room, he spies Zenitsu and Inosuke staring at them from their futons. He raises a finger to his lips as if to shush them as he uses the other hand to rub the boy’s back. He doesn’t dare ask what the dream is about, not wanting to distress the boy all over again.

 

Eventually, the muffled crying trails off into silence, but Tanjirou still doesn’t let go, willing to hold the boy as long as he would let him.

 

It’s Genya who breaks the silence first, pulling away after a few minutes to speak. He avoids making eye contact, staring at his own fidgeting hands.

 

“Tanjirou? You said you were a monster fighter, right?”

 

“Yeah. We fight monsters to protect people. We make them go away.”

 

Genya chews his lip, then leans up to speak softly into Tanjirou’s ear.

 

“Can you make my dad go away too?”

 

Tanjirou stiffens in place. From his vantage point, he can see Zenitsu’s eyes go wide as well, and knows that he’s overheard them.

 

“Eh?”

 

“You said you protect people, right? Can you?”

 

Tanjirou hesitates a moment before asking, “Does your dad… hurt people? Does he hurt you?”

 

Genya nods. “He’s always beating up on my Ma and us kids. He takes our food and all our money. Ma and Nii-chan are always trying to protect us but… I don’t want them to get hurt either.” He turns pleading eyes toward Tanjirou. “I-I’ll find a way to pay you back…!”

 

Tanjirou thinks back to the scar that had been plastered across his face as a teenager. Had it been from his father? He knew from Rengoku’s father that not everyone had been blessed with a father like his own, but just the thought of what that man might have done to torment Genya and his family was enough to make his blood boil.

 

He gently ruffles Genya’s hair. “I’m certain,” he starts, “that your father won’t be a problem for your family now.” After all, both Genya and Sanemi were strong now in their rights. He doubted their father was still a problem for them, but Genya still needed that reassurance.

 

“Does that mean you’ll help us?”

 

“I’ll do whatever I can for you.” He assures as they lapse into a content silence. Genya rests his head against Tanjirou’s chest and for a minute, Tanjirou thinks he’s fallen asleep like that. Until…

 

“Tanjirou?”

 

“Mm?”

 

“I gotta pee…”

 

“Huh?” He pulls back slightly to look down at Genya. The boy stares back at him, squirming in a way his little siblings used to do. His mother called it the ‘potty dance.’ “Oh. Oh!”

 

He struggles to his feet, setting Genya down so he can walk on his own. He just didn’t have the strength in his leg to carry both of them.  He takes Genya’s hand, wrapping his much larger hand around Genya’s. “The bathroom is just down the hall! Let’s go!”

 

Halfway to the door to the hallway, Genya jumps as the box in the corner begins to rattle and shake. Tanjirou, however, seems completely unphased, lightly tugging Genya along and limping out into the darkened hallway. They pause just in front of a door at the end of the hall to the right of their room. He slides open the door and flips on a light, revealing a small restroom with a single toilet.

 

Genya runs inside and shuts the door to do his business as Tanjirou leans against the wall for support and sighs. This whole ordeal was turning out to be a rollercoaster of emotions. He was learning things about Genya he was unsure the boy would be comfortable with sharing as his teenage self. Yet Tanjirou couldn’t help but want to know more. All he could do was make Genya as comfortable as he could.

 

The boy emerges a few moments later and Tanjirou puts on a neutral expression. “Did you wash your hands?” He glances pointedly at Genya’s dry hands.

 

“Oh yeah!”

 

He runs back into the bathroom and climbs onto the counter to wash his hands, eagerly showing them for Tanjirou to appraise when he finishes. Tanjirou smiles approvingly and pats his head, marveling at how surprisingly soft his tuft of a mohawk was. He takes Genya’s hand again, leading them back the way they came.

 

As if to herald their arrival, the box trembles again, soft scratching noises emitting from it. Tanjirou kneels in front of the box, coaxing whatever creature was in it to come out.

 

“It’s okay, Nezuko! Even if the sun comes out, the windows are closed for you.”

 

Zenitsu, upon hearing Nezuko’s name, pops up out of bed, wiggling eagerly for just a glimpse of her. Genya eyes the two boy’s excitement and tone. Was it a puppy in the box? He’d be excited too if it was a puppy! His brother always wanted a puppy but they simply couldn’t afford it.

 

The door creaks open and a pale, clawed hand emerges from the depths, glowing pink eyes fixating first on Tanjirou and Zenitsu before settling on Genya’s small form. He watches the way the creature’s pupils dilate before another hand emerges from the box, dragging itself forward to reveal a girl.

 

The boy’s face goes slack in shock, and an almost instinctual fear overtakes him. This girl is bigger than him, older, and she has scary claws and a muzzle. There was something inherently off about her as well. From her too-pale, almost ashen skin to her slit, predator eyes. She’s lovely, sure, but in the way something poisonous can have the most radiant colors.

 

It- she- stares at him with wide eyes, something anguished swirling in their depths. She crawls closer, stopping just shy of him before she reaches out a thin, long-fingered hand. He flinches away, eyes clenched shut in anticipation of being struck.

 

Instead, he feels a warm hand pet his mohawk, sliding down the back of his head in a gentle caress, the same way his mother and Nemi would pet his hair to calm him down. He cracks open a violet eye to peer up at her and she tilts her head back at him. The muzzle hides her smile, but he can see the way her eyes crinkle at the corners.

 

He gradually relaxes as she continues to pet his hair. Her touch almost felt motherly, warm like a flame, and gentle despite her wickedly sharp claws.

 

Tanjirou sits next to them to take the weight off his leg, his smile tinged with melancholy. “This is my little sister, Nezuko. Nezuko, this is Genya.”

 

The girl- Nezuko -doesn’t take her eyes off of Genya, scooting closer. Zenitsu sighs wistfully. Children had it so lucky, women loved them. Genya glances at the box the girl had emerged from, then looks to Tanjirou.

 

“Why do you keep your sister in a box? Isn’t it cramped in there? It doesn’t look very comfy…”

 

“Ah-”

 

“Did she do something bad?”

 

“No, but-”

 

“Why’s she got a bamboo stick in her mouth? And why does she look like that?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like…” He makes his hands into claws and tries to imitate a growl. Tanjirou chuckles despite himself at the display, watching the way Nezuko continues to hover over the boy, fussing and straightening out his clothing and combing his hair with her fingers. Genya shuffles awkwardly but allows it.

 

“She’s… sick. She’s got a condition that makes her look… like that, and she can’t go in the sun or she’ll burn. So, I carry her in that box to keep her safe!”

 

That seems to strike a chord with Genya, who gives the girl a sympathetic look. “I’m not allowed to go outside when it's cold.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“I,” he starts and pauses, face scrunching up like he’d asked the boy to solve a complicated math equation. “I don’t… I don’t remember.” He held his head in his hands as it began to hurt the harder he tried to remember.

 

Nezuko, as if sensing his distress, pulls the child into her lap, cooing soothingly. He squirms uncomfortably, trying to ignore the throbbing in his temples. Tanjirou places a hand on his shoulder and he shrugs it off, thoroughly overwhelmed by just how touchy they were.

 

His siblings were physically affectionate, sure, but most of the time, they were demanding hugs from Genya. With his mother busy almost 24/7 and him being the second eldest, he was hardly ever babied, with Sanemi being the only one to really coddle him like he sometimes craved.

 

He pushes his way out of Nezuko’s lap, crawling away from the pair of them. Tanjirou reaches for him again and Genya slaps his hand away in frustration. Tanjirou flinches and Genya retreats to his futon, curling up and burying his face against his knees. His skin almost felt like it ached in the places he was touched and he couldn’t stand it anymore. It was fine when he felt like he needed someone to physically hold him together after his nightmare or to help guide him down a dark hallway, but the constant touch was beginning to grate.

 

A wave of exhaustion hits him and he tips over to his side, curling up into the futon. If he slept, then he could pass the time until he got to see his Nii-chan again. He always was good at tuning out the world in his dreams. Hunger, boredom, pain, all of it could be solved by a nice nap. He blinks slowly. It helped that he felt so exhausted all the time lately.

 

Tanjirou stares at his hand as if it had been burned, thoroughly confused. He thought that they’d been growing closer. He sighs and pats Nezuko’s head instead. She eagerly leans into his touch and he smiles fondly at her. Nezuko always loved head pats, even as a human, and it was one of the many things he was thankful for. One of the few things that hadn’t changed after that horrific day.

 

Zenitsu sidles up next to them, vying for Nezuko’s attention. The sun would be rising soon and they’d have to head out, though Tanjirou was unsure how they’d make the journey in a timely manner with his bum leg. Zenitsu, noticing how Tanjirou seems lost in thought, plops down next to him.

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

 “Yeah, I just don’t understand why he got so upset…”

 

“You touch too much,” Inosuke states simply as if it were obvious from across the room. Tanjirou jumps slightly, having forgotten he was awake as well. Inosuke had been observing them silently, watching the child’s mounting frustration in real-time.

 

“Huh? But children like to be hugged!”

 

Inosuke scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “’S like shirts.”

 

Tanjirou blinks at him blankly, tilting his head. “Huh?”

 

“Clings to your skin and makes it all crawly. Plus it mutes my senses.”

 

“But he’s okay with being touched sometimes. How am I supposed to know when?”

 

Zenitsu leans forward to look at Tanjirou’s face. “Have you tried just asking him?”

 

“Oh.” Tanjirou blushes. “No, I just kinda did what felt right to me.”

 

Zenitsu tsks. “No offense, Tanjirou, but you are kinda touchy.”

 

Tanjirou rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Of course, Genya had boundaries. They were basically strangers to him.

 

They’re interrupted by a knock on the door as the master of the estate pokes his head inside. He seems apologetic for disturbing them.

 

“We’ve finished the preparations for you. Kochou-sama would like you to arrive post-haste. We’ve washed and repaired your clothing as well and will have them delivered momentarily. Please, dress yourselves and make your way out to the foyer. The little one can keep the clothing we gave him.” The master bows. “Thank you, slayers, for defending the town.”

 

With that, he leaves and their clothing is left outside the door for them, including Genya’s now too-big uniform and overshirt. The three boys get dressed quickly and efficiently and Tanjirou kneels to gently shake Genya awake, hesitating for just a moment before touching him.

 

Genya sits up, rubbing his eyes with his balled-up fists. He mumbles incoherently as Tanjirou backs off slightly to let the boy wake up on his own. By the time they’re ready to head to the foyer, Genya is wide awake, if a little tired. Tanjirou offers Genya his hand, not forcing the boy, giving him the option to refuse. Genya eyes it warily, before slowly, hesitantly slipping his hand into Tanjirou’s. The redhead smiles brightly at the small show of trust.

 

They follow the attendants outside, only to be greeted by a man with a cart and horse. It’s packed with supplies for them to travel and cushions for them to sit on in the back. Genya gapes at the sight of the large workhorse strapped to the cart. A horse would have done their family wonders with hauling!

 

“Is this… for us?”

 

“Yes. With your injuries and a little one in tow, you’re in no condition to walk all the way back to the Butterfly Estate, so we hired one of the corps' trusted merchants to escort you there. They were already planning to deliver supplies to the estate, so they wouldn’t be going out of their way. I only apologize we couldn’t secure you with a more comfortable rid-”

 

He’s cut off by Inosuke’s loud shout.

 

“WHAT BEAST IS THIS?!”

 

He gets into a fighting stance, squaring up to the uninterested horse. Zenitsu grabs the boar head’s good arm, shrieking at him to stop.

 

“IT’S JUST A HORSE!! HAVE YOU SERIOUSLY NEVER SEEN A HORSE BEFORE?!”

 

Zenitsu yanks Inosuke back hard, shooting Tanjirou, who is also gaping at the horse and wagon, a pleading look.

 

“Seriously, Tanjirou?! You too!? I would have thought you country bumpkins would have seen a horse.”

 

“We live in the mountains, Zenitsu, not really a lot of horses up the mountain. I mean, I’ve seen one from a distance in the local town but it was brief and horses are expensive!”

 

He helps Zenitsu hold Inosuke back nonetheless. His hold loosens slightly as he feels a tug at his haori, looking down to find Genya staring up at him.

 

“Can I pet it?”

 

“Oh!” Tanjirou turns to the bemused merchant perched at the front of the cart. The man catches Tanjirou’s eye and shrugs. “She’s pretty gentle as long as you don’t spook ‘er from behind. Your friend over there isn’t gonna actually try to fight my horse, is he?”

 

Tanjirou laughs nervously. “Ehehehe, we won’t let him.”

 

“Like you can tell me what to do!”

 

“Inosuke, please! They’re just giving us a ride! We get in the cart and the horse pulls it!”

 

“Hmph. I bet I’m faster.”

 

The merchant reaches forward to pat the horse’s flank. “Ayumi here isn’t built for speed. She’s built for haulin’. She can carry the whole lot of you and more.”

 

Inosuke harrumphs. “I can carry all of us too.”

 

Genya tugs harder at Tanjirou’s haori. “I wanna pet her! Please?”

 

Tanjirou lets go of Inosuke, who has stopped struggling, to pick up Genya instead, lifting him to be at eye level with Ayumi. The large draft horse huffs, but allows the tiny hand to pet through her mane, eyes closing in content. His eyes sparkle with delight and while Tanjirou doesn’t want to end the cute moment between animal and human, his leg is starting to kill him.

 

He waits for Genya to pull his hand away before carefully lowering the boy to the ground. He hisses through his teeth and hobbles around to the back of the cart where he can finally sit down. He exhales a sigh of relief, then yelps as he looks up to find Inosuke’s masked face hovering inches from him. He can practically feel his disapproving stare through those impassive blue boar eyes. He huffs and moves away after a moment, climbing inside the cart next to him. Zenitsu kneels to help Genya up into the cart before taking a seat as well.

 

“Wow, this is surprisingly comfortable.” Zenitsu wiggles around on his designated cushion, sighing in relief as he takes the pressure off his own wound.

 

The master of the house smiles, pleased to see his accommodations appreciated. “We wish you safe travels.” He hands them a large parcel wrapped in cloth. “Food, for your trip. We even included some snacks for the little one. I hope watermelon will suffice?”

 

Genya inhales sharply, wide, excited eyes fixating on the parcel of food. Everyone present can sense the joy radiating off the boy. A horse-pulled wagon and watermelon? If only Nemi was here. Tanjirou smiles gratefully, taking the parcel before Inosuke can snatch it and eat it himself.

 

“Thank you so much for your hospitality! Wisteria houses like these are why we slayers can keep going.”

 

The Master’s eyes widen in surprise before he bows once more. “We’re always happy to help those that would risk their lives for humanity. Please, give Shinobu-sama my regards.”

 

With that, the attendants open the gates to the house, allowing the merchant to safely navigate them to the nearest road. It takes all of five minutes before Inosuke is pestering Tanjirou for food. Tanjirou eyes the rising sun and figures it’s about time for breakfast anyway. So, he unwraps the parcel and hands some freshly made rice balls out to Zenitsu and Inosuke.

 

Genya shakes his head no when Tanjirou offers him his own share and he frowns. The doctor had mentioned that Genya had been a little malnourished, but he’d never had to put much effort into getting his little siblings to eat. They were, blessedly, not very picky eaters.

 

Instead, the boy’s eyes wander to the container of watermelon that was sat underneath the container of rice balls.

 

“You can have some watermelon after you eat some real food.” He waggles the rice ball and yakitori enticingly at Genya. “Eat at least half a rice ball and one yakitori stick and then you can have a watermelon slice, okay?”

 

The boy looks conflicted, glancing between the food in Tanjirou’s hands and the watermelon in the container. Finally, he sighs in defeat and holds out his hands. Tanjirou can feel his chest puff with pride as he breaks the rice ball in half, handing it off to him along with the chicken. Genya nibbles at the rice at first, quickly realizing that he was hungrier than he expected. Before long, he’s polishing off the last of his yakitori and holding his hands out eagerly for his reward. Tanjirou happily pets his hair and then hands him off his watermelon.

 

“Oi! I finished all my food too. Don’t I get a reward?”

 

Tanjirou turns to Inosuke with a bright smile and pets the top of his head. “Great job, Inosuke!”

 

“Hah! It was nothing for the King of the Mountain!”

 

Inosuke eyes the watermelon slice in Genya’s hands curiously. Genya notices this almost immediately and hunches over his food, eating it as fast as he can.

 

Inosuke turns his attention to the container of watermelon in Tanjirou’s hands instead, pointing at it. “What’s that?”

 

“Oh! You’ve never had watermelon before? Did you want some?”

 

Almost immediately, Genya inserts himself between Inosuke and the watermelon.

 

“No!!” he cried. “Jii-san said it was for me!”

 

Tanjirou blinks in surprise at the outburst. Genya, up until this point, had been mostly quiet, with his only outburst before being when Inosuke had scared him with his mask. Genya attempts to snatch the watermelon container from him but Tanjirou just holds it higher, easily holding the boy back with his other hand.

 

“There’s enough here for both of you. Don’t you want to share, Genya?”

 

“No!! It’s mine! You can’t take it! It’s mine!!”

 

Even Inosuke seems taken aback by the sudden shouting from the otherwise quiet child. Fat tears well up in Genya’s eyes as his frustration mounts and Zenitsu covers his ears as the child begins to cry in earnest.

 

“O-okay!” Tanjirou shoots Inosuke an apologetic look. Inosuke, for his part, takes it surprisingly well, crossing his arms and huffing. He’d just been curious but apparently, it was a touchy subject. Not that he could particularly blame Genya. There was something familiar about the look in his eyes as he protected his food. It reminded him of the boars that reared him, how they clashed and fought over scraps of food, especially during the wintertime.

 

Tanjirou hands the container of watermelon off to Genya in an effort to stop his crying. The boy snatches the watermelon from him and hugs it to his chest protectively, sniffling and scooching away from them. This felt different than the tantrums his little siblings used to throw. This felt visceral and genuinely panicked, the scent of fear, anger, and sadness radiating off of him.

 

“It’s okay! No one’s gonna take it from you. I’m sorry, you’re right. He did say he had the watermelon packed for you. I should have asked before I offered Inosuke any.” He tries to make his voice as soothing as possible. Genya was just so different from his siblings, every little thing seemed to throw him for a loop. “If you want, you can hold onto that for as long as you want.”

 

Gradually, Genya began to relax, his death grip on the container of watermelon loosening. His cries soften to sniffles and he flops back on his pillow, curling around the box. For a while, no one says anything and Genya feels something like guilt begin to gnaw at him.

 

But watermelon was one of the few luxuries he let himself indulge in. It was sweet and hydrating all at once, cool watermelon on a hot summer day was one of his favorite things in the whole world along with his family. And he had no idea when these strangers’ kindness would run out.

 

Maybe they would deem him too selfish, and take all their gifts to him away? From the clean clothes to the delicious food. They were even delivering him to his brother! The guilt wins out in the end, and he opens the container to pull out a watermelon slice, offering it silently to Inosuke. He hears Tanjirou audibly gasp with excitement as Inosuke takes the slice from him with something like wonderment in his eyes.

 

He then proceeds to take a huge bite out of the rind, face scrunching in disgust at the flavor. Genya gasps in offense as Inosuke spits it out over the side of the cart, wiping his face with the back of his arm.

 

“You’re ‘sposed to eat the red part!”

 

Inosuke eyes him for a moment, then goes in on the red part this time, pupils visibly expanding at the sweet flavor. He finishes off his watermelon slice, rudely tossing the rind over the side of the cart and reaching for another. Genya scrambles to the other side of the cart, hiding behind Tanjirou and zealously protecting his precious watermelon.

 

Tanjirou easily catches Inosuke mid-lunge, wrestling him down and sitting on his back as he screeches. Zenitsu, still covering his ears, whines miserably. Why did his friends have to be so loud?

Notes:

Next chapter: Shinobu!
Please, if you enjoyed, drop a kudo and comment if you can! I love love love reading you guys' thoughts!

Chapter 4: Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby

Notes:

I am SO sorry for how late this chapter is! I ran into a bit of writer's block after writing Letters to the Heart and it was seriously kicking my ass! But I got over it and it's here now :D

Big shout out once again to PrinceBlue for beta reading this chapter. They help me out so much and you should definitely go read their stuff too!!

Genya should be used to it, the whispers, the stares, the laughs. The way gossiping mothers would giggle, hands covering their mouths and whispering about the ratty family with the drunkard father who gambled all their money down the drain. The mother who, to placate the man, would close her eyes, spread her legs, and pray he would leave them alone. The white-haired boy who worked day and night to provide for his siblings and the sickly boy who couldn’t even breathe right.

 

The other children would copy their mothers, going silent and watching the solemn family pass with judgmental eyes. They would turn their backs on them, hunching over and snickering amongst themselves.

 

Genya had never had a friend or playmate outside of his family but Genya was okay with that, really. All he needed was his ma, his big brother, and his babies. No, the worst part about being the “weird poor boy” was the kids that just couldn’t leave them alone.

 

And, as they make their way to the market all together with Sanemi, they run into one of the worst offenders.

 

“Oi! Shinazugawa!” The landlord’s son, an older boy named Nobu Tanaka, saunters up to them, a brilliantly colored temari tucked under his arm. “I heard your good-for-nothing old man bit the dust the other day. How’s your ma gonna pay my dad now? No way she’s gonna have the cash to pay up for rent next week.”

 

Sanemi meets his gaze dully. “We’ll have his money by Friday,” he spits out before brushing past the other boy without another word. Nobu seethes and Genya watches with horror as he reels back the arm holding his temari and makes to hurl it at the back of Sanemi’s head. Genya cries out as he launches it, but Sanemi simply turns around, catching it midair before it can hit him in the face.

 

Sanemi looks between the fancy temari in his hands and back at Nobu, before throwing it into the nearby stream, watching the other boy scramble to retrieve it before it can be washed away. With that, he turns back around, gesturing for his little siblings to follow him with a wave of his hand.

 

Genya and the little ones run to catch up with him, Genya sneaking glances at Sanemi’s face with wonder. His big brother was the coolest! He was so mature, just like a grown-up, and the way he had kept his cool! Genya was losing his temper just watching the interaction!

 

Sanemi catches his eye. “What? Something on my face?”

 

Genya quickly shakes his head, face flushing at getting caught staring. “N-no it’s just…” He hesitates. “…how do you keep from getting mad?”

 

Sanemi blinks back at him. “I was mad.”

 

“But you didn’t hit him, or yell, o-or-”

 

“I didn’t lose my temper.”

 

“Yeah!”

 

Sanemi smiles and it softens the stern lines of his face, creasing his eyes at the corners like their mother’s would do. “I just thought of you and the little ones. Protecting you is more important than how angry I was at him. Protecting our family is the most important thing.”

 

Genya stares down at his feet, falling silent as he thinks about Sanemi’s words on the way to the market.

 

Thankfully, Nobu seemed to leave them alone for a while after that, settling on just glaring at them whenever they passed.

 

Until the day Genya decided to take the little ones to play in the nearby field. They’d finished all their chores for the day and Sanemi was out working along with their mother and Genya figured that the fresh air would do them good. They daisy chained their hands together so no one would get lost as Genya led the way.

 

Nobu steps into their path, hands confidently perched on his hips as he grins at them.

 

“Where’s the white-haired freak?”

 

Genya’s brow twitches in irritation. Sanemi’s snow-white hair had been another topic of rumors, ranging from their mother having an affair to Sanemi being cursed.  Still, Genya takes a deep breath and ushers the children to step around the volatile boy.

 

“Aww, what’s wrong? Too dumb or too scared to talk without your big brother here?”

 

Genya grits his teeth and keeps walking, ignoring the older boy. His younger siblings follow his example, doing their best to ignore Nobu’s buzzing around them. It works, until the bastard grabs onto Sumi’s free hand and kneels to her height, cooing mockingly at her. “Poor Sumi-chan! Your family’s dirt poor and it’s ‘cause your Ma couldn’t keep it in her pants and popped out a dozen kids. I bet,” he whispers conspiratorially, “that she would be happier if you were never born!”

 

Sumi’s breath hitches in her chest, wide blue eyes going glassy with tears. She whimpers, tears dripping down her chubby cheeks as she turns to look at her brother. She breaks away from the daisy chain, running directly to Genya and clinging to his pant leg.

 

“What did you say to her?!”

 

“He speaks! I was beginning to think you were deaf after all.”

 

Genya lets go of the little ones’ hands and shakes Sumi off his pant leg, storming toward the older boy and glaring up at him.

 

“What. Did. You. Say?!”

 

“I think you heard me, trash. Your mom didn’t know how to keep her legs closed and now she’s paying the price with seven little burdens. You were all better off-”

 

He doesn’t even hear what the boy says next over the roaring in his ears, doesn’t feel the way his arm reels back, or the pain of his fist colliding with the other boy’s face. All he’s aware of is the satisfying crunch of cartilage under his knuckles and the splash of bright red blood that flows from Nobu’s nose. He watches Nobu stumble back, almost in slow motion, clutching desperately at his face as the other children scream in surprise.

 

He comes to his senses as Sumi fearfully tugs at his sleeve.

 

That was the landlord’s son he just punched. The son of the man that practically controlled their lives. And as the other boy glares at him through the gaps in his fingers, Genya knows that he knows it too.

 

“You just fucked up big time, filth,” he spits. “When my dad hears about this-”

 

Genya doesn’t even let the other boy finish talking before he takes off in the other direction, running frantically. From what, he doesn’t know. The other boy’s friends don’t even seem to be chasing him. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the old abandoned shrine just outside of town.

 

It’s hours before Sanemi finds him there, hiding under the stone steps.

 

“Genya. Ah, this is where you are.”

 

“N-nemi…”

 

“Hey, it’s almost dark. Let’s head home. Mom’s not mad or anything.”

 

Genya shakes his head, burying his face against his knees as he tries not to cry. Sanemi sighs tiredly, the same kind that their mother would do after a long day of work. Sanemi was always so much more mature than Genya. No matter how hard he tried to be like him, he just couldn’t keep up with Sanemi. His brother was always reassuring him that he did a good job looking after the kids, but Genya wasn’t so sure.

 

Regret eats away at Genya. If Sanemi didn’t have to take care of Genya, if Genya were just healthier, or at least more mature, then maybe Sanemi wouldn’t have to work so hard to protect them.

 

“You hit him ‘cause he was making fun of Sumi, right? The whole ‘poor people with tons of kids’ thing.”

 

Genya nodded, afraid that if he tried to speak when Sanemi was looking at him like that, everything would come pouring out of him in a flood of tears. What if they were all chased out of their house the very next day? It wasn’t much, one room to share amongst the eight of them but it was still a roof over their heads. Warmth in the freezing winter and relief from the summer sun.

 

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d been thrown out, but never in the dead of winter. Sanemi sighs in exasperation and Genya flinches, tears beading at his eyelashes. He’d just wanted to protect Sumi… he wanted to be like Sanemi. But the difference between them was so clear at that moment.

 

“Then you didn’t do anything wrong, now did you?”

 

“Huh?!” Genya jerks, head whipping up to gape at Sanemi.

 

“B-but I!”

 

“You did a great job of protecting your little sister. Hold your head up high.”

 

“But y-you… you said protecting us was more important than your anger. And I let my stupid temper take over… Nemi wouldn’t have punched him.”

 

“You’re right.” Genya deflates. “I would have done worse,” he says, darkly. “I was able to control myself because he wasn’t attacking you. But if that little rat had thrown his stupid temari at you or the little ones, I woulda shoved it down his throat.”

 

Genya stares up at Sanemi contemplatively and Sanemi grins back at him with that smile that Genya adored more than anything.

 

“C’mon,” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s getting cold and ma’s worried.” Genya looks between Sanemi’s face and the offered hand, taking it within his after a few moments. A blush coated his cheeks as he was overcome with a sudden desire to be babied. It wasn’t often he got the chance and it was just him and Sanemi in that moment.

 

“Nemi. Piggyback?”

 

Sanemi turns to him, surprise written across his face that morphs to concern. “What? Are you hurt? Did he land a hit on you?!”

 

“A-actually… just forget it…” Genya scuffs his foot in the dirt, embarrassed at his own thoughts. Really? He wanted to be babied now of all times? Of course, Sanemi didn’t have time for-

 

“Here, climb on.” Sanemi turns his back, crouching down and positioning his hands as foot holds. Genya’s eyes go wide, but he scrambles to climb on before Sanemi can change his mind. He settles into Sanemi’s warmth, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he rests his chin on his shoulder. His face was still beet red, but he felt safer than ever, there on Sanemi’s back.

 

“Mom’s making ohagi,” Sanemi states, adjusting his hands under Genya’s thighs. Genya’s legs tighten around his older brother’s waist.

 

“Really? Is there a lot?” More often than not, Ma only had the time or resources to make a few for the younger kids, while Sanemi and Genya would just split one in half.

 

“Yeah. Me and Teiko were helping.”

 

“Chunky or smooth?”

 

“You know chunky is my favorite. But we made a few smooth ones for you too.”

 

Genya cheers and clings tighter to his brother, rocking back and forth a bit in his excitement. His brother was truly the nicest brother ever. Carrying him piggyback despite Genya being at the big age of six! He was surely too old for this now.

 

He makes a promise to himself to be better. To ease the burden on Sanemi’s shoulders, both figuratively and literally.

 

---

 

Eventually, Inosuke loses interest in Genya’s watermelon and things become less tense in the back of the cart. Genya reluctantly relinquishes his hold on the container, letting Tanjirou rewrap all the food to keep it nice and fresh.

 

Zenitsu leans over the side of the cart, craning his head to make eye contact with the driver.

 

“Just how long is this gonna take?”

 

“We should arrive sometime in the middle of the night. These supplies are urgent so we’ll be making very few stops. Tell your friends not to damage anything back there.”

 

“Yes sir…”

 

He leans back into the cart and sighs, hanging his head. Stuck in a cart with his loud-ass friends for another twelve hours it seemed. At least the screaming had stopped.

 

Already, boredom was beginning to set in. Inosuke jumps out of the cart to jog next to them, anything to get out his restless energy. Genya leans out of the cart to watch him, nearly tumbling off the edge if not for Tanjirou’s quick reflexes and watchful eye.

 

The boy fidgets in place, picking at his nails and the skin around it.

 

Finally, after about thirty minutes of trying to entertain himself, Genya groans. “I’m bored!”

 

Tanjirou chuckles, honestly impressed that he had managed to hold off this long before complaining. “Why don’t we play a game, then? Have you ever played 20 questions?”

 

Genya shakes his head. “Nope!”

 

“So, I ask you a question and you have to answer, and then you get to ask me a question, whatever question you want, and I have to answer. You can go first, okay?”

 

“Okay…? Um…” he thinks for a second, then jabs a finger at Tanjirou’s forehead. “Where’d ya get that scar?” He asks it with all the cruel innocence of a child.

 

Tanjirou smiles at him, rubbing the scar on his forehead. “I got it after my younger brother knocked over a pot of boiling tea. I was trying to tackle him out of the way… but I just ended up with a face full of scalding water.”

 

Genya blinks up at him, actually looking somewhat impressed.

 

“All right, my turn! Is Sanemi your only sibling?”

 

“Nope! He’s my only Nii-chan, but I’ve got lotsa little siblings too! There’s the twins, Hiroshi and Teiko, then there’s Shuuya, and then Sumi, and then Ma’s pregnant! She said if it’s a boy we’re gonna name him Koto and if it’s a girl, then she’ll be Kotoha!”

 

“Wow! That’s just as many little siblings as I have! And you have a big brother too!” Genya puffs out his chest as if having more siblings was an accomplishment. “I bet you’re an amazing big brother.”

 

“My Nii-chan is better. He’s the bestest brother in the world! He’s kind and nice and he’s smart and he helps protect us from Dad so he’s super strong too! He changes diapers the second best after Ma no matter how stinky! And he brings us treats home when he can!”

 

“He sounds amazing!” And not at all like the man that Tanjirou had met. That man had stank of rage and hatred, a constant perfume of agony. He had laughed as he had stabbed his sister through the box, taunted her, and tried to have her killed. Demon or not, that was his baby sister the man had so carelessly stabbed, and Tanjirou simply found that he didn’t have it in him to forgive the man. But, children also had a way of idealizing their family and friends.

 

“How many siblings do you have?”

 

“Hm? Oh! Just five little siblings. There’s Nezuko who you met before. Then there’s Takeo, Hanako, Shigeru, and Rokuta!”

 

“Where are they?”

 

Tanjirou’s smile strains a bit but otherwise doesn’t waiver. “They’re waiting for us at home. But I think it’s my turn to ask a question now.” He needed something to steer the conversation away from more sensitive topics. “What’s your favorite food?”

 

“Watermelon! It’s the best fruit ever! It’s sweet and juicy and cool!”

 

The older boy laughs, smiling a bit sheepishly. “I should have guessed that, huh? Well, it’s your turn now.”

 

Genya thinks for a moment, expression solemn as if this were the most important thing in the world at the moment.

 

“Why is Nii-chan at a mansion?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I mean… you said you were taking me to a mansion and that that’s where Nii-chan was. But why’s he at a mansion?”

 

“Er…”

 

“And how did I get here?”

 

Tanjirou’s eyes go wide as he looks for anything he can use to distract Genya from this line of questioning. His eyes dart to Zenitsu for help. Zenitsu just shrugs back at him and mouths, “Why not tell him the truth?”

 

Genya is quickly growing impatient, tugging at Tanjirou’s sleeve to pull his attention back to him.

 

“Why won’t you tell me?”

 

“Do you… remember how we said we were monster fighters?”

 

Genya’s nose scrunches in confusion. “Uh-huh?”

 

“Well, a monster… took you. It made you small, so we took you back to the wisteria house to protect you! Now, we’re bringing you back to your family.”

 

“Made me… small?” His head tilts like a confused puppy. “Was I big before?”

 

“Yeah! See… you used to be around my age.”

 

“But you’re a grown-up!”

 

Tanjirou chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Not quite. But that’s why you’re having such a hard time remembering things. They’re… suppressed.”

 

Or maybe they weren’t there at all anymore, and Genya was stuck like this. Tanjirou tries to shake that thought away.

 

“Am I sick? How’d it happen?”

 

“Well, you could say you’re sick, in a way. And it’ll hopefully wear off on its own, but we’re taking you to Kochou-san just in case! She’s a really good doctor. And it happened because you were being very brave. See, when you grew up, you became a monster fighter, just like us! But the monster put a spell on you to make you small again.”

 

Genya stares at Tanjirou like he’d grown a second head, shifting his gaze to Zenitsu, who simply shrugs and nods. “That’s… pretty much it, yeah. The demon put a spell on you and now you’re here.”

 

“And what about my Nii-chan?”

 

“What about him?”

 

“Is he… a monster fighter too? Do we fight the monsters together? Where’s the rest of my family?”

 

“He is a monster fighter! One of the best around. I’m sure he’s on a mission right now, and that’s why he’s not with you. And…” he trails off. Family could be a bit of a touchy subject. The corps was built on the backs of orphans, after all. “I don’t know where your little siblings or mother are… I’m sorry.”

 

“Why not? Aren’t we friends?”

 

Tanjirou freezes, guilt lancing through his heart.

 

“Well, I would consider us friends… but I’m not sure you did.”

 

“So… We’re not friends?”

 

“N-no! We are! I’m happy to be your friend! But… I’ll be honest with you… a big reason why I wanted to play this game is so that I could get to know you better. I want to grow closer, you and I.”

 

Genya blinks up at him, confused. He’d never had a friend outside his family before. “But… why?”

 

“For a multitude of reasons! Not least of which is that you risked your life to save mine.”

 

“Why would I do that if we’re not friends?”

 

Tanjirou simply shrugs with a small smile. Kids asked a lot of questions, many of which had no easy answer. “Because you’re a good person. And that’s why I want to be your friend.”

 

Genya’s eyes go wide at that answer, a small blush dusting his cheeks. He’d never been called good by anyone other than his mother and Nemi. A rotten brat, no good, filthy, poor, a burden. That was the one that hurt most of all because he knew it to be true.

 

Genya squirms in place, feeling suddenly shy. “We can be friends…”

 

“Eh?! Really?” Tanjirou’s face lights up and Genya leans back as he finds his personal space invaded and he’s pulled into a hug. He squirms but resists the urge to push away from the older boy. Tanjirou pulls away after a few seconds, sheepish as he remembers Genya’s sensitivity to touch. He watches the small boy stretch and yawn after a moment. “Are you tired?”

 

Genya blinks drowsily and nods. He wasn’t sure what had happened. One minute he had been fine and the next a wave of exhaustion had fallen over him. It had been happening a lot lately, these sudden bouts of almost dizzying tiredness. His eyes droop and he slumps against the side of the cart.

 

Tanjirou watches with a worried expression. The boy had been lively just a minute ago and now he could barely stay awake. Zenitsu leans forward, glancing between Genya and Tanjirou.

 

“Isn’t he… sleeping a lot?”

 

“Maybe the transformation just took a lot out of him. Kids are more sensitive to big changes…”

 

“Yeah, but aren’t you supposed to stay awake after something traumatic happens to your head? I know it's not a concussion but I feel like this qualifies as scrambling his brain a little.”

 

“I…. I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Zenitsu settles back in the cart and it’s not long before Inosuke rejoins them too, bored of no one paying attention to him. With nothing to do but sleep, Zenitsu gathers the spare cushions to craft a makeshift futon, curling up against the side. Inosuke flops over Zenitsu’s legs and sprawls out, drifting off not too long after Zenitsu does.

 

As they grow closer to their destination, their surroundings begin to look and smell more familiar to Tanjirou. He sits up from his reclined position, looking over his sleeping companions. It was already the dead of night, but he could see the lights of the mansion in the distance, always on except for in a select few rooms.

 

As Inosuke and Zenitsu wake up, he gently nudges Genya awake, concern spiking when the boy doesn’t respond. He shakes him perhaps a bit too roughly and he jolts awake.

 

Just as they pull up to the gate to the front gardens, the large wooden doors are flung open and they are greeted by Aoi and a handful of Kakushi, who begin dutifully unloading the cart. Aoi steps into their line of sight, hands propped on her hips.

 

“You three again. Why am I not surprised?” Her eyes trail over to Genya, who peeks out at her from behind Tanjirou. “Is that… Genya?” The boy in question’s eyes go a bit wide at the sound of his name from this woman who, as far as he knew, he had never met before.

 

She shakes off the shock, recovering quickly. She had seen all sorts of maladies that arose from blood demon arts, and, in the grand scheme of things, age reversion was far from the strangest she had seen. That award had to go to the spider heads from Natagumo Mountain.

 

“Bring him inside, Kochou-san is waiting on you.”

 

Tanjirou winces as he climbs off the cart, smiling thankfully at the kakushi who rushes to his side to help him. He offers his free hand to Genya, smiling when the boy takes it almost immediately. It felt like Genya was finally starting to rely on him.

 

They’re led straight to Shinobu’s exam room, pausing at the entrance as a woman with black and white hair storms out. She pauses briefly, dull gray eyes settling on Genya with something like fascination, before she continues on her trajectory.

 

They file inside the room after she leaves, just in time to see Shinobu massaging her temples.

 

“That woman…”

 

Tanjirou could smell her underlying irritation, even as her face smooths over and she stands to greet them with a pleasant smile.

 

“Oh my! It seems Higurashi-san wasn’t exaggerating in his letter.” She stoops to Genya’s height, purple gradient eyes regarding him with warmth. “My name is Kochou Shinobu. But you can just call me Shinobu if you want!” She straightens after a few moments of silence from the boy, sitting in her chair as she takes in the entire situation with a critical eye.

 

Shinobu had a deal of sorts with the older Shinazugawa brother. He would cooperate with her examinations and would make a token effort to not land himself in her office, and she would send him updates on Genya’s ongoing health. Nothing too personal, just whether he was in critical condition or not.

 

However, as she stares down at Genya Shinazugawa’s tiny body, she debates exactly what qualifies as a “critical condition.”

 

“How exactly did this happen?”

 

Tanjirou steps forward almost immediately, eyes downcast and mouth set in a thin line. “It was my fault. If I had paid more attention then… Genya was trying to cover my back and the demon was able to cast its blood demon art on him.”

 

“Oh dear! The best thing you can do right now for him, Tanjirou-kun, is to help him as much as you can.” She smiles sweetly at Genya. “And you can help us all out by telling us a little about how you’ve been feeling!”

 

Genya clings to the back of Tanjirou’s haori, but this isn’t the first shy child Shinobu has had to treat. She waits patiently for him to gather his words. Patience was a virtue and Kanae had it in spades when she was still here. Now, it was up to Shinobu to live up to her legacy.

 

Tanjirou gently nudges Genya forward with a small “go on.”

 

Genya, pushed out from behind Tanjirou, fidgets in place. “I’m, um. Normal? I guess.” He rubs his arm nervously. No matter how many doctors checked him over, he’d never been comfortable with the poking and prodding and questions. “I just want my nii-chan.”

 

“I’ll contact him as soon as I can, but your nii-chan is very busy. It’ll probably take him all night to finish up his work, then he can come to find you in the morning. That’s why I want to get all this boring doctor stuff out of the way, so you can spend all your time with him!”

 

Genya tilts his head like a lost puppy. “But it’s nighttime? Jobs are for daytime!”

 

“Not this one! It’s very important. But I’m sure he’ll be here for you in the morning. Now, can you say ‘ahh?’”

 

“Ahh!” He opens wide and she starts her exam, checking his throat, eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. She listens to his heart and lungs, picking up on the soft whistling sound of his breathing. She checks his abdomen, reflexes, fingers, and toes. As she works, the three boys make themselves comfortable in her office. She’d have to deal with their wounds as well soon.

 

She leans back in her chair as she finishes, folding her hands in her lap. She turns her attention to the three teens. Tanjirou is sitting practically at the edge of his seat, watching the proceedings anxiously while Inosuke lounges on the exam bed. Zenitsu sits beside Tanjirou, looking lost in thought.

 

“Now, can you tell me more about the demon that did this? And if you’ve noticed anything abnormal. Anything at all.”

 

“The demon was an older woman with the ability to create ice arrows. Her blood art was activated through touch, I think. All it took was a second and he was just… poof! Disappeared! And after the fight, I went and checked this pile of clothes… and there he was! Unconscious. We took him back to the wisteria house and had him checked up and they sent us here.”

 

Shinobu nods along, noting something down in her notebook.

 

“And there’s been nothing out of the ordinary?”

 

“Well,” Zenitsu pipes up, “he has been sleeping a lot. Every time we leave him alone for more than two minutes he’s dropping like a fly.”

 

“I see. Well, there’s one more test I’d like to run, but it’ll involve me taking a little bit of blood.” She pulls a needle and syringe from a nearby drawer, grabbing a cotton swab and some alcohol next. “It’ll only be a slight pinch, okay Genya?” She kneels in front of where the boy is sitting and Genya eyes the needle warily. “May I see your arm?”

 

Genya shakes his head no and scoots away from her, eyes never leaving the needle.

 

“Nuh-uh.”

 

“I promise you, I won’t take more than I need and I’ll make it as quick as possible! You’ll barely feel it.”

 

He stares back at her silently, eyes flitting between her kind eyes and the needle. This woman… her sweet demeanor and small stature reminded him of his mother. He can’t help but want to trust her but the sight of the needle alone was enough to make him squirm. Tanjirou, seeing his dilemma, leans over.

 

“Why don’t you take my blood first? So Genya can see it’s not bad at all!”

 

Shinobu smiles pleasantly, shuffling over to take Tanjirou’s arm instead. She works fast and efficiently, wrapping a band around Tanjirou’s upper arm and swabbing the spot she intended to take from. The needle goes in and Tanjirou doesn’t make any indication that he even felt the needle. She inserts the tube and blood begins to flow into it. Within a few seconds, she has a full vial of blood and she withdraws the needle, wiping the area down once more and then bandaging the spot.

 

“There we go! Quick and easy!” She disposes of the needle, fetching a new one and an empty vial and grabbing a small bag of konpeito she kept on hand for younger patients. “And, you’ll get a treat after we’re all finished!” She shows off the little baggie of star-shaped candies before dumping a few of them out in Tanjirou’s hand.

 

Tanjirou pops them in his mouth with an exaggerated happy noise. “Mmm! So sweet!”

 

Genya thinks long and hard for a moment before hesitantly offering his arm. Shinobu gets to work before the boy can change his mind. The needle goes in and Genya hisses through his teeth. She pulls the needle out after a few seconds and wipes down his arm, offering him the entire baggy of konpeito. He lights up, eagerly popping a few in his mouth and immediately crunching down on the candy crystals. 

 

Shinobu leans back, examining the vial in her hand. “I’ll need some time to confirm, but if I’m right, it may explain the extreme drowsiness. For now, I’ll work on rebandaging your wounds.”

 

She gestures at Tanjirou first, guiding him to stretch out his leg so she could examine the wound. He’d bled through his old bandage after irritating it from trying to walk. She examines the wound packing with a tsk.

 

“I’ll need to sow these wounds. They should have been sown in the first place, not packed.” She administers a regional anesthetic before unpacking the wound. Once the packing is removed, she cleans it with an antibacterial wash and pulls out her suturing kit. She works quickly with deft hands, sowing the wound closed in a matter of minutes.

 

She turns to Zenitsu next, who looks a bit squeamish at the sight of her tending to Tanjirou’s wound. Still, he dutifully unbuttons his shirt with only a mild blush. Genya climbs onto the examination table next to Inosuke, idly swinging his feet over the edge.

 

He watches Shinobu work with all the curiosity of a young child, barely flinching at the sight of soiled bandages and packing material. He does cringe at the idea of sowing a wound closed, the needle looping in and out of the skin and tugging it closed.

 

She works in silence for a few minutes before Tanjirou tentatively breaks it. “I’ve never seen a demon do something like this before.”

 

“There are plenty of demons with the ability to change their victims’ forms; usually it’s to make them easier targets to pick off.”

 

“But what would make her want to change them into kids?”

 

“Aside from children being especially vulnerable… it’s likely because children make all around better prey for demons.”

 

Tanjirou’s expression looks a bit disturbed as he hesitantly asks, “How so…?”

 

“Children, especially young children, have what’s known as stem cells.” She finishes wrapping Zenitsu now sown up wound and removes her gloves, plucking a journal from a nearby shelf with the name ‘Himari’ scrawled on it and a book written in a foreign language from another. “These stem cells are undifferentiated cells that can change into different types of cells and can proliferate indefinitely. Adults have them too, but they’re especially abundant in utero. Fetal stem cells are the precursor to every cell in your body, making them pluripotent. Adult stem cells, however, are multipotent or unipotent - meaning they can only differentiate into one or two types of cell - and are only found in select niches.”

 

The three boys stare blankly back at her. Tanjirou messages his temples, in the hopes that he could somehow make himself understand half of what Shinobu had just babbled at him. Inosuke picks at a piece of ear wax in his ear.

 

“Er… Not that I don’t understand… but you may have to dumb it down a bit for the country bumpkins over here,” Zenitsu interjects.

 

Shinobu pauses, flushing slightly as she sets the books down. “The younger you are, the more nutritious for demons you are. Women are also considered more nutritious because of their reproductive organs. Which is why pregnant women are considered a…. delicacy.”

 

Tanjirou’s expression sours at that. “That’s… horrible.”

 

“Yes, but it explains a lot about why you may have struggled against that demon. Its Blood Demon Art works by rapidly reversing cells, reverting the target to a younger state. It both weakens the target and makes them a better meal. It’s… gruesomely efficient. A fast way to incapacitate and grow strong all at once.” She grimaces then, her scent growing bitter with concern. “The problem then, is that we don’t know how his body will handle the backlash to such a rapid de-aging.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Think of it like a rubber band. The more you stretch the band to its limit, the harsher the snap back. He’s rapidly re-aging, a process that, at its natural pace, is already a huge strain on the body. He’ll need around-the-clock supervision until it wears off.”

 

Genya shifts uncomfortably, unsure how to feel about them talking about him like this. Shinobu moves to work on Inosuke’s wounds next. She needed to hurry. It seemed she had an urgent message to send to the Wind hashira after all. With that in mind, she calls for her crow, En.

 

“For now, I ask that you three keep an eye on Genya while I secure a caretaker for him. Normally, I’d ask a kakushi to keep an eye on him, but he seems most comfortable with you. Aoi will be around to give him regular checkups every few hours. Please, let one of us know as soon as something changes.”

 

She ties off the bandage to Inosuke’s arm, grabbing the vial of Genya’s blood and some parchment before calling for a nearby kakushi.

 

“Will you escort them to the room with Nezuko? And ensure that my rounds are covered by Aoi today, I have something important to attend to.” With that said, she bustles out of the room.

 

Tanjirou and Zenitsu both exchange worried glances in her wake.

 

---

 

Kiyoshi’s breath wheezes past his pale lips, fogging in the cool, winter air, and his back presses against the rough bark of a withered tree. He clasps his good hand over his mouth, hoping to stem the sound of his panicked breaths as tears slide down his cheeks. His other hand hangs limply, barely attached to his shoulder by the barest amount of torn skin and sinew.

 

That monster had nearly torn it off with its bare hands. It- because there was no way that thing could be human, with its crazed, bloodshot eyes and too-wide grin.

 

“Oi, oi, oi,” it calls, strolling through the forest. “We were just getting started! You could make this so much easier for yourself by dropping dead already.”

 

He stifles a sob. Was this it? His eyes trail down to where blood sluggishly drips into the snow and realizes with horror that he’s left an easy-to-follow trail. He has only a split second to process before something sharp plunges into his shoulder, twisting diagonally to slice clean through his neck.

 

His head falls to the ground with a hollow thunk, rolling across the snow before coming to a stop and leaving him with a perfect view of the monster, framed in the moonlight.

 

“Got you, demon.”

 

Sanemi flicks the blood off his katana before sheathing it in one smooth motion. What a waste of his time. He kicks snow over the demon’s disintegrating body, causing the ashes to scatter faster. Supposedly, this demon had been causing quite a bit of trouble for the nearby cities with a particular hatred for siblings, always kidnapping in pairs. It had already killed dozens of people before they finally sent a hashira after it.

 

He turns on his heel, heading back the way he came. While the kakushi would be by to take care of the aftermath soon, he had something he wanted to attend to. At the edge of the forest and town, he climbs a nearby tree, using the branches to launch himself higher so that he can access the roof of the nearest building. He takes off southward, leaping across roof after roof until he reaches a house with the door torn off.

 

Climbing down, he peaks through the window. There, he finds a small family of four, huddled together for protection. The demon’s last target before he had hunted it down. His eyes land on the children, held tight in their mother’s arms. The older brother clutches his face where the demon had managed to slash him before Sanemi had arrived. Despite the pain, his free arm remained firmly wrapped around his little brother.

 

Good.

 

It was an older brother’s duty to protect the younger.

 

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of fluttering wings. He feels surprise and dread all at once when he finds not his crow, but Shinobu’s. She only ever bothered to write to him when it was about…

 

Genya.

 

He snatches the note from the crow, hastily reading over it before stuffing it in his pocket and taking off in the direction of the butterfly estate.

 

Notes:

I may or may not have dropped in some references to one of my ocs... She probably won't be involved much in this story but I couldn't resist hinting at her.

And feel free to join the server that gave me the courage to start writing and posting! https://discord.gg/FAVEFE6u

Chapter 5: I Dream About an Old Familiar Face

Notes:

Look at me posting exactly on time! Hope you guys enjoy<3
Once again, credits to the lovely PrinceBlue for beta reading!! Please please please go check out their work!

His lungs ache from gasping and crying and rocks dig uncomfortably into his knees, yet still Genya doesn’t move, clutching his mother’s bloodied kimono in his arms. The sun had long risen, dissolving the rest of her body in an instant, leaving nary a trace of her existence at all.

 

The townspeople begin to emerge from their longhouses and huts, gasping and pointing at the injured boy kneeling on the ground, his cries of “Murderer! Murderer!” echoing in the wind. It doesn’t take long before people notice the Shinazugawa’s destroyed wall.

 

Horrified screams ring out as they peek inside and find the children’s bodies, piled haphazardly near the doorway as if they had been running to the door.

 

“Perhaps they had been running from something. Or someone.” They think.

 

One of the townsmen approaches Genya, staring down at the weeping child.

 

“Boy, where is your older brother?”

 

Genya shakes his head slowly. “H-he… killed…”

 

The man’s eyes go wide. “Are you saying he did all of this? Killed the children?”

 

Genya’s head snaps up, eyes desperate. “N-no! Nemi would never…”

 

Never hurt them.

 

“He tried to… to save us from the wolf… the wolf did this.”

 

The wolf that Sanemi had tackled out the window. Genya looked around frantically, it surely had to be nearby. But if Sanemi had been fighting the wolf… then why did he kill their mother? Why was she there at all?

 

“Ay, he’s talking nonsense. There are no wolves this far into Kyobashi. Where is their mother? She’ll want to know what’s happened to her children.”

 

“Sh-She’s here.” He lifts the tattered kimono, all that was left of his beloved mother. After she had… faded away? That… bodies didn’t just… fade, did they?

 

The man stares at Genya like he’d grown a second head. Another townsperson interjects.

 

“The boy’s in shock, Kenzo. I doubt he knows right from left right now.”

 

Kenzo scoffs and grabs Genya by the front of his shirt, shaking him. “What the hell happened here?!”

 

“I-I don’t…!” He sobs, trying to pry the older man’s hands off of him.

 

“Kenzo!”

 

“Damn it!” He drops Genya and paces away, pulling at his hair. They could have a murderer on the loose and the only witness they had was a shell-shocked six-year-old. He turns to the crowd that has gathered. “Fan out. Find the oldest Shinazugawa boy, he’s the most likely suspect.”

 

“Shouldn’t we leave this to the police?”

 

“They don’t give a rat's ass about what happens out here. We gotta take care of this ourselves.” With that he and a handful of other men begin searching, leaving Genya there in the dirt. He can hear those damn whispers again, hissing like snakes and he covers his ears to block it out.

 

A woman kneels next to him, using a dirty rag to dab at the blood on his face. He flinches in pain, shrugging her off and stumbling to his feet, the kimono slipping from his numb fingers. He needed to find a doctor for his siblings. That’s what he’d set out to do in the first place.

 

“Please…” he croaks past his sore throat, “they n-need a doctor…!” He staggers toward the crowd, eyes imploring them for help.

 

The woman who had dabbed at his face stands. “They’re dead. Shinichi already checked them over.”

 

“N-no! They need a doctor! Please!” He reaches for them with bloodied hands and they recoil away from him. As if he was something dirty.

 

The woman, whom he distantly identifies as old lady Chiyo, reaches for him again. “You need a doctor.”

 

An animalistic cry is ripped from Genya’s throat, wounded, yearning. He could feel their pity and he hated it. He doesn’t want it, he just wanted his ma, his Nemi, his babies, he wanted everything to go back to the way it had been just a few hours ago.

 

All the people of this town cared about was looking after themselves. And as he breaks into pieces in the middle of the dirt path, all they do is watch.

 

A few rare good Samaritans enter the longhouse, wrapping his siblings up in their dirty futons and carrying them outside, laying their bodies out of sight, out of mind.

 

Genya watches numbly as they carry out the smallest bundle of the lot. Genya lurches toward them next, hands reaching for the youngest of his siblings.

 

“K-koto… Koto doesn’t like his face covered. He… he can’t breathe like that.” The villagers carrying the bodies exchange pitying looks with each other. “Give him… to me. Give me my baby brother.” He holds out his arms, staring insistently until the villager hesitantly lays the bundle in his arms.

 

He pushes back the blood-soaked cloth covering his face, gently dabbing the blood from the boy’s cheeks. He’s pale, so so pale, but his body is still warm. His eyes skip over his torn-out throat as if it wasn’t even there. The villagers watch, disturbed, as Genya rocks the baby and hums to him, nuzzling his uninjured cheek against the soft fuzz of the babe’s hair.

 

He promised Nemi he would protect their family, that he would watch over them while he searched for their mother. He totters his way over to where the rest of his siblings lay, moving Koto to his hip so he can free up a hand. He nudges the blankets to the side on the nearest body, revealing Teiko’s blood-spattered face. Everywhere he looked there was more blood, blood everywhere, soaked into every inch of them.

 

His siblings could be so messy sometimes.

 

He sets Koto down for a moment, wanting to fix Teiko’s hair. As she was getting older, she had a growing fondness for fashion, always wanting Genya to pin her hair up in a tidy updo like their mother and always eyeing the pretty kimonos at the market.

 

Now, it had been sheered short, untidy, and mussed. Teiko would cry if she woke up and saw her hair like that. Hiroshi would make fun of her for crying and a fight would break out, so Genya needed to fix her now. He does his best to pin the now short strands in place, brushing them from her face. Her favorite hairpin had fallen out but he managed to arrange her hair in a somewhat decent look.

 

He turns his attention to Hiroshi next, scooting him closer to Teiko. Though he would never admit it, he was extremely attached to his twin sister, and couldn’t sleep unless he was next to her in some way, shape, or form.

 

Next was Shuuya and Sumi. Shuuya liked to have his hair stroked and Sumi needed her doll or she wouldn’t settle down. Both of them liked to be sung to sleep and Genya just couldn’t help but indulge them.

 

So, he runs inside to fetch Sumi’s doll, a hand-me-down from their mother, now lying broken on the floor. Blood had soaked into the doll’s dress, staining it a vibrant red. When he returns from the house, he finds the villagers moving his siblings’ bodies once again.

 

“W-wait! Where are you taking them?!” He cries out, grasping at their clothes with his dirty hands. He couldn’t let them take his babies. Deep down, he knew he would never see them again.

 

“We just want to… lay them to rest. Don’t you see how tired they are?” They hoist the bodies higher, out of the boy’s reach. “You should focus on finding your mother.”

 

“She… turned to ash…”

 

They exchange that same look again but play along. “Then why don’t you help the nice men find your nii-chan? They want to ask him a few questions and you surely know him best.”

 

That’s right.

 

Sanemi had wandered off shortly after Genya had yelled at him. He must be so angry at Genya, accusing him of murder when there was surely a different explanation. They had a few shared hiding spots around the town, places they’d go when they wanted to get away from their father before the other children were born.

 

He numbly watches them walk down the street, bodies slung over their shoulders as he tries to remember those spots from what felt like forever ago. He had to find Nemi, then they could go get their siblings and go home. Everything would be fine if he could just find Nemi.

 

He wanders the streets, staggering almost drunkenly down hidden alleys and checking under the stone steps of the few nearby shrines. Sanemi had to be in one of those places.

 

The only thing keeping him tethered to the moment was that determination to find his brother and the stinging burn on his face as it continued to bleed sluggishly.

 

He searches until night begins to fall once again, and continues looking long after even the men have given up.

 

“The boy must ‘ave left town after he killed his family. Smartest thing that fucker’s done in his life.”

 

No.

 

Sanemi didn’t kill the children. And he wouldn’t abandon them. He had to be somewhere nearby. And the best way for them to find each other is for Genya to go back to where they last saw each other.

 

Home.

 

He turns on his heel, staggering his way back home. Of course that was the best solution. Sanemi always came back for them. No matter how long or hard the job or how bad the beating from their father, Sanemi never once even thought about leaving them.

 

But as he approaches the longhouse where they’d been staying, he spots a figure hovering outside their apartment. The figure stood in front of the busted window where Sanemi had tackled the wolf, staring into the house. Genya shuffles forward, finally identifying the man.

 

Hideo Tanaka, the landlord.

 

Hideo doesn’t even bother turning around as Genya approaches, staring impassively at the blood-stained flooring. They stand in silence for a few moments before the man finally speaks.

 

“I expect this mess cleaned up and you moved out in two weeks.”

 

Genya falters slightly, gaping up at the man. Was he…?

 

“Y-you can’t…!”

 

“You’re lucky I don’t make you pay for the wall, but considering the circumstances, I’m willing to let it slide. I guess I feel a little bad for you, after all.”

 

“But where will we-”

 

“We?” he scoffs. “You’re all alone now, boy. And there’s no way a kid like you can afford this place on your own. Go find an orphanage or something.”

 

“That’s not true! Nemi will-!”

 

“Your brother’s in the wind now. And I suggest you forget about him now, after all he’s done here. Your mother is missing and your babies are dead.”

 

He sighs, finally turning to look at the devastated boy.

 

“Look, kid, I’m being generous here. Any other landlord would have thrown you out immediately, especially after the trouble you caused with my boy, but I’m giving you two whole weeks of staying here for free. Take the time to mourn, clean the place up, and buck up. Your brother coddled you too much if you expect the world to give you any kind of handouts.”

 

He walks past Genya, roughly patting his head as he starts to head home.

 

 

Genya swings his feet over the side of the cot, eyes fixed on the door. The nice lady – Ms. Shinobu – had said that Sanemi would be here any time now. And as the minutes tick away, Genya finds himself more and more eager to see him. Any second now, right? Sanemi would pop through the door any second now and the world would finally make sense.

 

As nice as Tanjirou and his friend were (not Inosuke, he was still mad at him) they just weren’t the same as his Nemi. Sanemi made him feel safe and made everything seem manageable and small like they could face the entire world if Sanemi was there. Even their mother felt that way around the boy, depending on him to help manage the household and children and work.

 

Zenitsu and Nezuko sit together, huddled in the corner, Zenitsu chatting idly about anything and everything that pops into his mind. Nezuko blinks owlishly back at him, clearly not understanding everything he said but eager to listen regardless.

 

Inosuke had been pacified with a plate of tempura, perched on the bed across from them and eagerly gobbling down the shrimp tempura two at a time. Tanjirou sighs and wipes the grease that dribbles from the side of the other boy’s mouth.

 

Tanjirou glances at Genya out of the corner of his eye, looking nervous. He had no idea how to broach the subject, but he needed to make sure Genya understood.

 

“Hey… Genya?”

 

The boy doesn’t even look in his direction, eyes locked on the door to the room. “Mmm?”

 

“About your brother… There’s something you should know.”

 

“What about?”

 

“You remember how I told you that you’re really our age? Well… Your brother is also older. He’s an actual grown-up now!”

 

Genya’s eyes light up. “What does grown-up Nemi look like?! Tell me! Tell me!”

 

“Well, he’s… tall. Real tall, like I bet he’s almost six feet!” The man had towered over him, using his height to his full advantage. “Strong, too.” He’d held Nezuko aloft so easily with just one hand. “Real muscular and lots of scars. Kind of intimidating, really.”

 

He glances over to Genya, who looks back at him with wide, sparkling eyes. “Nemi’s not intimidating! He’s the nicest big brother ever! And he sounds! So! COOL!” The child bounces in place. He wanted to be just like Nemi! Tall and powerful! He was always so responsible, even when he was a kid like Genya, surely he’d only become more so!

 

He springs to his feet at the sound of the door sliding opening, an excited “Nii-chan!” on the tip of his tongue. He deflates all at once when he finds not his brother, but Ms. Shinobu instead.

 

She smiles at him sympathetically. She of all people could understand the feeling of anxiously waiting, watching the door for the second their older sibling would walk through. She’d been waiting with bated breath for years now, even when she rationally knew it would never happen.

 

“Sorry to disappoint! But I come bearing new crucial information about the blood demon art! Since you three are his temporary caretakers, I thought I should inform you.”

 

She dusts off the chair in the corner opposite Zenitsu and Nezuko, daintily sitting down and politely crossing her legs. She’s holding a clipboard with notes tacked on it. She glances over it as she gathers her thoughts, Tanjirou turning his full attention to her.

 

“Were you able to find anything out from his blood?”

 

“I did. I was able to confirm my theory as well.”

 

“About why he’s sleeping so much? Is he okay?”

 

“Simply put, his cells are multiplying, growing, and dying at an accelerated rate. Approximately a hundred times the normal growth rate of a human child. It’s his very cells fighting against the blood demon art. It also explains his sudden bouts of drowsiness. It’s the growth rate of his cells fluctuating. As it increases, more and more of his energy is devoted entirely to multiplying and growing, drawing away from his other functions.”

 

“Meaning?”

 

“When he sleeps, it’s his body trying to recover from the effects of the blood demon art. You’ve heard that growing boys need a lot of food and rest to get big and strong, yes? He’ll need that a hundredfold. I took the liberty of assigning him a high-calorie, high-protein diet and a lot of bed rest. Given his prior health problems, he’ll need routine, daily physicals to make sure he’s developing healthily.”

 

“Prior health problems?” This was the first Tanjirou had heard about it.

 

Shinobu doesn’t answer him, continuing her shpiel. “I also mixed up some daily multivitamins for him to take, to ensure he has all the necessary materials and building blocks the body needs for growing. I added flavoring to make them more appealing to children but I can’t promise they’ll taste good. Make sure he’s taking them twice a day.”

 

“Should I be writing this all down?”

 

“No need, I already wrote all of this out, I just find it’s better to verbally go through it all at least once.” She turns her attention back to Genya, who looks a bit irritated to be talked about as if he wasn’t there. “This is important for you to hear as well. I need you to try not to give us a hard time, okay?”

 

“I won’t…” He pouts at the implication but she just smiles back at him and fondly pats his hair. “When is Nemi getting here? You said he would come!”

 

“He’ll be here very soon! I’ve got it on good authority that he’s running all the way here, just to see you. Now, I have other patients to attend to, but Aoi will be by with food for all of you, I need you to make sure that you eat all of yours, okay?”

 

Genya nods, lower lip still stuck out petulantly.

 

“Let me hear you say it, okay?”

 

“Yes, ma’am…”

 

“Good! Now, I’ll be back soon.”

 

 

 

 

Sanemi makes it to the butterfly mansion in record time, having practically crossed Japan to get there. He storms into the Butterfly estate, shoji doors slamming against the worn wood. The blue butterfly girl – Aoi? He thinks – glowers at him.

 

“This is a hospital. Try to show some-” She’s cut off before she can finish.

 

“Where is he?”

 

“Ugh,” she grumbles to herself, something about inconsiderate hashira stepping all over her, but Sanemi doesn’t care enough to listen. “He’s at the end of the hall on the left in the monarch wing. But listen, about Genya,” she starts.

 

She doesn’t get to finish her thought because Sanemi is already gone, storming down the indicated hall. He slows down as he approaches the door to Genya’s room, hesitating as he reaches for the handle. What state would he find Genya in this time? It felt as if every time he found himself here, he was in a worse condition than the last.

 

He bites the bullet and pushes open the door, peering inside the surprisingly dark room. His eyes are drawn first to the demonic presence of the Kamado boy’s little sister, perched on the floor next to a boy in yellow. What was she…?

 

“Nii-chan?” A childish voice calls out into the silence, and Sanemi looks down to find wide, violet eyes staring up at him in awe. It’s achingly familiar, just like he remembered Genya in his mind’s eye, but he knew, logically that that wasn’t right. “You’re my nii-chan, aren’t you? He said you’d be big!”

 

Suddenly, Sanemi regrets not stopping to listen to the butterfly girl or at least going to find Shinobu to get the rundown first. His body acts on autopilot, sliding the door shut with a loud “thwack!”  He hears the soft pitter-patter of small, socked feet before the door flies open once again.

 

“Nii-chan!”

 

But Sanemi is already halfway down the hallway, running like a coward. He can face thousands of demons at a time, can face his own mother turned against them, but never could he face those eyes.

 

“Nii-chan! Wait for me, please!” He huffs, socked feet slipping against hardwood as he rounds the corner. “Don’t leave me!” Genuine fear laces Genya’s voice and Sanemi’s steps come to a stop. It brought back hundreds of memories, all of Genya chasing behind him, begging to go with him.

 

He really hadn’t changed much, even as a teenager. Still following in Sanemi’s footsteps, no matter how hard Sanemi tried to push him down a different path.

 

As a child, he’d had no choice but to rely on Genya. While he had practically raised the boy himself, Genya had gone on to take care of all five of their younger siblings, while Sanemi and their mother had been toiling tirelessly just to make ends meet.

 

Genya would make an amazing father.

 

And it was Sanemi’s one and only dream that he lived long enough to become a father. To grow old and happy. To not live in fear of demons and to have a warm meal in front of him every day, a bushel of children clinging to his legs, and a spouse who adored him. He wanted Genya’s face to crease with time and for laugh lines to frame his eyes.

 

But that sort of life just wasn’t compatible with the path Sanemi had chosen to walk down, so they had to go their separate ways, no matter how much it would hurt them both at first. But while Genya’s body was weak, his heart was strong and he would surely learn to live without Sanemi.

 

In that moment of contemplation, Genya manages to catch up with him, crashing into the back of his leg and wrapping his short, chubby arms around his calf. He clings with all the strength a six-year-old can muster, face pressed into his pant leg.

 

“I’m not,” he starts, pausing to swallow down his regret. Saying this to Genya was so much harder when the boy looked like that. Still, he musters the strength and rips himself away from Genya’s clinging hands. “I’m not your ‘Nii-chan!’ I’ve told you over and over, I don’t have a brother, especially not a sniveling little weakling like you.”

 

Genya stares back at him, confusion plastered across his face, arms still raised to wrap around him. It seems to take a moment for the words to register, his face crumpling with hurt and disbelief.

 

“W-what…?”

 

“How can you say that?!” The Kamado boy, who had followed the two brothers along with his friends, interjects. “All Genya’s talked about since this happened was how much he wanted to see you! He’s just a little kid!”

 

His eyes flash toward Kamado with a sneer curling his lip. At least he had one thing confirmed for him. Genya must not have all his memories, the body and mind of a child.

 

“It’s his own fault for getting hit by a blood demon art in the first place! Weaklings like him should just quit the Demon Slayer corps.”

 

“You’re wrong!”

 

“Haah?!”

 

“Genya’s not weak! He saved my life! And I won’t let you talk about my friend like that!”

 

They’re both interrupted by a loud hiccup, fat tears welling up in Genya’s eyes as Sanemi’s words wash over him.

 

“N-Nii-chan!” he sobs. “I am your little brother! Why is Nii-chan being so mean? Did I make you angry? I’m s-sorry! D-don’t leave me!!” His legs give out and he slides to the floor, bawling. He scrubs his hands over his chubby cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears as they fall.

 

Sanemi freezes, staring at Genya with wide eyes. He’d forgotten how much of a crybaby he could be. A large part of him longs to comfort the boy, to wipe his tears away like he used to do when they were kids. But he couldn’t give in to that urge, not when he’d entrenched himself into a life of danger. Their paths could never intertwine again.

 

Genya whines and it makes Sanemi’s chest hurt. It was almost scary how much power Genya had over him, especially in this form. Still, he forces his feet to remain glued to the spot, scared that if he moved it would be towards Genya instead of away.

 

Kamado limps his way between them, firmly planting himself in Sanemi’s way as the yellow boy runs to Genya’s side. His hands hover nervously over Genya’s form and Sanemi numbly remembers the way Genya didn’t like to be touched when he was crying like that.

 

The shirtless boy joins the Kamado boy’s side, posturing like an animal.

 

“Oi! What did you do to tiny Tenya?!”

 

Sanemi’s eye twitches, the sound of Genya’s wailing overlaid with Kamado’s righteous preaching and the shirtless boy’s posturing. The yellow boy’s whining joins the cacophony, pleading for Genya to calm down. He feels a vein pulse in his forehead as his irritation continues to rise, their babbling akin to nails on a chalkboard.

 

Just when he’s about to explode, a sharp clap rings out, silencing all but Genya.

 

“That’s quite enough commotion! This is a hospital as well as my home and I’ll have you show some respect while you’re here.” Her eyes land on the still-crying Genya and her face softens for a moment before she levels a look at Sanemi.

 

“Boys, take Genya back to the room.”

 

“But-!”

 

“Shinazugawa-san and I have much to discuss.” She rests a dainty hand on Sanemi’s shoulder.

 

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m leaving.”

 

Her hand tightens on his shoulder, gaze cutting through him. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you that we need to talk. Follow me to my office or I’m cutting our deal.”

 

He yanks his shoulder away with as much vitriol as he can muster, but when she makes her way towards her office, he follows, doing his best to ignore the way Genya cries out for him. She carefully shuts the door behind him, remaining silent as she flutters over to her office chair, sitting at her desk and gesturing for Sanemi to take a seat across from her.

 

They stay there in silence for a minute or so before Sanemi gives in and sits. She steeples her fingers, sighing with disappointment. “That was quite the scene you made. You know, you’re quite the liar.”

 

“Cut the shit and get to the point already.” He leans forward in the chair, glaring at her. “You left the part about him turning into a child out of your note on purpose.”

 

She hums. “I didn’t think it would affect your decision so much. Nothing would have stopped you from checking on him, no matter what you tell yourself.”

 

Sanemi grits his teeth as the truth of the matter is laid out plainly before him. Shinobu was one of the few people he just couldn’t hide the truth from.

 

“What do you want?”

 

She leans back, satisfaction creeping across her face. “I want you to take Genya into your care.”

 

“No.”

 

“It’s that, or leave him in the care of Kamado-kun and his friends. He’d be kept here, in the medical wings so he would be safe from demons.” She cuts him off before he can put his two cents in. “And leaving him outside the care of the demon slayer corps is out of the question. The strain on his body from the Blood Demon Art combined with his pre-existing ailments requires that he have around-the-clock care.”

 

“He’s not safe here! This place is a target for demons, he’s better off far away from here.”

 

“Of course. And I suppose he would be safer out on the streets then? In the body of a child with very little memories to speak of. So that the blood demon art can wreak havoc on his already frail body.”

 

“Can’t you put him in an orphanage? Or with a doctor who isn’t in the Demon Slayers core?”

 

“And how will we explain his rapid growth? How is that any safer than a secure base with trained demon slayers around every corner? Who better to protect him than a Hashira? Sanemi-san, surely, you’ve thought this through? I can understand not wanting him to fight, but abandoning him completely? There’s more cruelty to the world than just demons but you’ve deluded yourself-”

 

“Enough.”

 

Sanemi abruptly stands, grabbing the sword he’d set to the side.

 

He sneers at her, looking like an animal backed into a corner. “You of all people don’t get to lecture me on protecting people. Who the hell have you managed to save that actually matters?”

 

A muscle in her cheek jerks, causing her eye to twitch slightly and Sanemi counts it as a victory. Her hands shake before she smooths them over her lap.

 

“I believe you’ve made your position quite clear. I’ll let Genya know that he’ll be staying with us for the foreseeable future. Alone.”

 

She stands, gesturing for Sanemi to leave.

 

Sanemi stands as well, knuckles white from how hard he clenched his fists. “Glad to hear you understand,” he spits. He steps through the door, prepared to retreat to his estate when…

 

“Your choices will be the death of him. Be it sooner or later.”

 

Sanemi freezes in place, blood boiling. “What would you know? You couldn’t possibly understand my situation.”

 

“I understand that you’re killing him already, slowly but surely. The more you turn your back on him the more reckless he becomes. The more you call him weak and worthless, the more he believes it. I firmly believe he would not be in this mess in the first place had you just talked to him.”

 

“It’s not that simple!” He slams his fist into the door frame, splintering the old wood. “I’m a hashira. He will always be in danger just from being around me! The only thing I want to do is kill as many demons as I can, any demon that would threaten him.”

 

“How are you supposed to do that if you don’t even know when he’s in danger?” She knows that at this point, they were arguing in circles, but surely something had to knock some sense into Sanemi. “Do you even know where he’s been in the past who knows how long? What he’s been through? Where each and every one of those scars come from, because I can tell you right now that he was covered in them long before he joined the demon slayer’s corps.”

 

One thing she had learned about the boy’s demon-eating ability was that it could heal nearly any wound in a matter of moments, all without leaving a trace behind on his skin. As long as she had known him, he had never gained a single scar from his various wounds out on the job.

 

It was obvious, at least to Shinobu, that the majority of them likely hadn’t come from demons. She could see it in the way he flinched away from her touch, the way he closed himself off from every other slayer. The world had been less than kind to the boy, leaving a painting of pain across his canvas.

 

No, the scars that littered Genya’s body came well before the boy had learned to use his teeth.

 

“He needs you, perhaps now more than ever. He’s more vulnerable than ever before. His body is expending all its energy on fighting off the blood demon art, rapidly aging and leaving him immune-compromised on top of pre-existing conditions.”

 

She cuts him off before he can reply.

 

“Not only that, but the blood demon art has affected his mind as well. His memories are returning to him, meaning he’s about to relive every moment of his life all at once. Every bit of pain he’s ever experienced, returned to him all at once, every mental scar ripped open anew. On top of the pain of having his only family reject him. Maybe it won’t kill him, but there are worse fates.”

 

Sanemi stands there, silent before sighing deeply. She catches a glimpse of his clenched jaw before he moves again, walking away.

 

Her shoulders sag in defeat as she realizes he’s heading for the entrance of the estate and not Genya. Her heart cries out for the boy, but most of all, she is furious.

 

Sanemi claimed not to understand Kanae’s decision to let her younger sister join the demon slayer corps, but they’d had each other. Shinobu would have died without her sister there, though maybe not literally. She can only imagine Genya’s pain.

 

She sighs, burying her anger deep where it belonged. She had to find a way to break the news to Genya with as little distress as possible.

Notes:

Hopefully you're not TOO mad at Sanemi lol
Feel free to drop a comment! I love hearing your thoughts <3

Chapter 6: Take Me Home Where I Belong

Notes:

I AM SO SORRY FOR THE LATENESS I had a lot going on these past couple of weeks and the second half of this chapter did not want to be written lol. I didn't even get the chance to respond to comments yet!
I want to shout out PrinceBlue again for being my rock throughout this chapter! She lets me bounce ideas off of her on top of betaing this fic and giving me more confidence to post<3 I owe a lot of my progress as a writer to her and I strongly encourage you all to go read her works! She's recently posted the first chapter of a genmui sick fic that I'm so excited for y'all to read!!! She also made a server which you can find here: https://discord.gg/d7vppTZt for all things Genya and Sanemi and fic writing and more!

“Nii-cha! Nii-cha ‘tay!”

 

Genya sits up in his crib, supporting himself on the bars with one hand and reaching for Sanemi with the other, tears sliding down his chubby cheeks. Sanemi chews his lip, eyes darting between the door and Genya.

 

“Nii-cha! Nemi!” He hiccups miserably.

 

Sanemi rushes to his side in an instant, lifting him out of the crib and cradling the baby in his arms.

 

“I gotta go, Gen. Old man Isao said I could keep a bag of rice if I helped him haul it. Don’t you wanna eat, Gen?”

 

He brushes Genya’s hair from his face. The sides curled wildly, tangling and matting against his head. Ma had said it was probably better to just shave the sides and be done with it, and while Sanemi was sure he’d be just as cute with a little mohawk, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t mourn the loss of Genya’s adorable little ringlets.

 

Genya coos, stubby fingers coming up to wrap around his. He hugs Sanemi’s hand to his chest, staring up at him with pleading eyes.

 

“Nemi ‘tay?”

 

He glances back at the door. Their mother was waiting for him just on the other side. They didn’t want to risk pissing off the only family in town with a little money to spare that didn’t hate them.

 

He sighs, then bumps their foreheads together gently.

 

“Nii-chan has to go. But Nemi will always come back for Genya. Just a few hours, okay?”

 

The baby, just shy of a year old, stares back at him with sad, puppy dog eyes. He may not understand most of what Sanemi is saying to him, but he does understand that he will be leaving soon.

 

He slowly rests Genya back in his crib, laying him on his back and watching the babe kick his chunky little legs in a temper tantrum.

 

The boy shrieks as he steps away and Sanemi feels like his heart is shattering. He knew Genya wouldn’t be alone.

 

Their mother rushes through the door, gathering Genya in her arms, laying him on her shoulder so she could pat his back, bouncing him lightly. The baby doesn’t take his eyes off Sanemi for even a second, arm reaching over her shoulder for him.

 

He spares Genya one last look before stepping through the door. He couldn’t turn back, not now.

 

---

 

Sanemi had been present for each and every one of Genya’s major milestones in life. He was both proud and dismayed by just how fast he was developing. He learned to talk before all the other winter babies in the neighborhood and was easily rolling over a month before the others!

 

Sanemi had asked around, researching endlessly when all the correct baby milestones were. When they should be walking, talking, and weaned. Genya was ahead of them all, beating them out by weeks or even a month in advance in everything.

 

Well, almost everything.

 

Despite Genya’s many baby accolades, he had yet to actually take his first step. He had mastered pulling himself up using the bars of his crib to stand, but he had yet to ever use that power for locomotion. Hell, the boy hadn’t even been cruising* yet!

 

When he expresses his worries to his Ma, she just giggles, waving off his concern.

 

“It’s because you carry him too much!” She insists.

 

Sanemi gapes at his mother. How dare she imply there was ever a “too much” when it came to holding Genya? It wasn’t his fault the baby would cry and whine if Sanemi left the room without him! So, what if Genya spent more time in Sanemi’s arms than in his crib? He was just trying to provide his brother with enrichment! Enrichment was good for babies!

 

But Genya was nearing the sixteen-month mark without having ever taken a single step. All the other winter babies were easily cruising and walking by now, and yet Genya’s butt stayed firmly and stubbornly planted on the ground.

 

Shizu watches the indignance fall from Sanemi’s face, replaced by something conflicted and confused. She sighs, setting down the wicker basket of laundry and placing a dainty hand on Sanemi’s shoulder.

 

“Sometimes, you have to make hard decisions to do what’s best for your loved ones. Sometimes, the option that feels cruel now, will be better for him in the long run. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, mama.”

 

Cruelty being good for someone? Sanemi couldn’t honestly say he really did understand. But it did give him an idea of what to do next.

 

The next morning, after Genya’s first feeding, Shizu hands Genya off to Sanemi as usual, bustling off to work. Normally, around this time, Sanemi would strap Genya in a sling on his back and carry him from room to room while he did his chores. Today, though, he takes Genya and sets him on the floor.

 

The boy coos up at him in confusion, making grabby hands up at Sanemi, clearly asking for his uppies. Sanemi ignores him, walking a few paces away and sitting down.

 

“Nii-cha? Nii-cha up?”

 

“No, Genya. Genya needs to go up on his own today. Okay? Gen up?”

 

The boy’s nose scrunches in confusion as he flaps his arms. Sanemi holds his ground, crossing his arms over his chest and staring the baby down.

 

Genya leans forward, beginning to crawl on all fours toward Sanemi as fast as he can, but Sanemi just stands up and moves a few paces back, keeping the same distance between them.

Genya stops and stares at him with as much anger and betrayal as his little baby heart can muster. He devolves into frustrated babbles, practically running on all fours to try to catch Sanemi, who simply shuffles further away.

 

The baby stops again, mouth gaped open like he couldn’t believe Sanemi’s audacity. He sits back, fidgeting his hands with each other as he processes what just happened.

 

Sanemi watches as his face begins to crumple, eyes scrunching up and cheeks flushing bright red as the first hiccups begin. He can already feel his resolve wavering as the cries start to spill from his mouth. Genya sobs, fat tears rolling over rounded cheeks as the baby screams for Sanemi.

 

“Nii-cha!!! Nii-cha!!!!” He wails, pounding his fists and kicking his legs. Sanemi feels like crying himself as the baby’s wails grow so loud that Genya starts to choke and cough on his saliva.

 

This felt beyond cruel.

 

But Sanemi stays rooted in place, fists clenched tightly in his lap so he wouldn’t reach back for the baby.

 

“C’mon Gen…. Just one step! And then I promise Nemi won’t ever leave you behind again.”

 

Genya wails in response. He topples forward onto his hands and knees, trying to crawl toward Sanemi again, but for the third time, Sanemi just scoots further away. It continues for a few minutes, Genya crying and chasing Sanemi on all fours.

 

And just when Sanemi is about to give in…

 

Genya builds up momentum, crawling as fast as he humanly can. His hands begin to leave the ground as his legs extend. He stumbles and catches himself on his hands before repeating the process, building up speed as he positions his legs more under his pelvis and pushes up.

 

He takes one step, quickly falling into the next before he topples onto the ground again. But it's more than enough for Sanemi, who freezes mid-scoot, eyes impossibly wide. He springs to his feet all at once, cheering loud enough to rattle the foundations as he quickly scoops Genya into his arms, shocking the baby and planting happy kisses across his cheeks, nose, and forehead. Genya stares up at Sanemi, too stunned to keep crying.

 

“You did it!” he laughs, exhilarated. “You took your first steps, Gen!”

 

He lifts the baby in the air, hands tucked under his arms. The boy’s arms and legs wiggle about, tears dried across his cheeks and face still flushed from crying.

 

“Nii-cha?”

 

“Yeah! Nii-chan is so proud of you, Gen!”

 

And in that moment, Sanemi finally, truly understood what his mother meant when she said cruelty could be a kindness.

 

---

 

“Nii-chan! Nii-chan, wait for me!”

 

Sanemi stops in his tracks, allowing for the now four-year-old to catch up to him. He raises a finger to his lips, hushing the boy. Genya goes wide-eyed and slaps his hands over his mouth in response and Sanemi fondly ruffles his hair, now shorn along the sides. He was right that Genya would be just as adorable with a mini mohawk.

 

“You’re gonna scare away all the bugs!” Sanemi whispers back, the ten-year-old barely quieter than Genya in his excitement. He hadn’t gotten to go bug hunting in what felt like forever!

 

But their father, on one of his increasingly rare good days, had actually brought home a decent amount of pocket change. Though he’d heard his mother hiss disapprovingly of his “illicit money,” Sanemi was too young then to really care beyond that he would finally have a day off to play like all the other kids.

 

Not only that, but he got to bring his favorite person along too! His baby brother toddled along behind him, a shoddy net clutched in his pudgy fist. Sanemi, armed with a net of his own and a small basket tied around his waist to keep their catches in, led the charge.

 

The summer sun was blocked by the overhead trees, leaving only spotty sunbeams and giving them a reprieve from the heat as they hopped over rotting logs and tripped their way through the sprawling network of roots that made up the forest floor. They were hunting a particularly loud cicada, following its shrill cries deeper into the woods. They were far out from their house, about a mile away from the slums of the Kyobashi ward.

 

Sanemi had to carry Genya on his back halfway there, letting the boy nap and save his strength for the hunt. Genya was wide awake now, practically bursting with energy and rearing to go, though he still had trouble keeping up with the much more agile Sanemi.

 

Genya nods his head, hands still clasped over his mouth as he wiggles in excitement. Sanemi whirls around on his heel, pointing authoritatively in the direction where the buzzing was coming from.

 

“Onwards!”

 

Genya's giggles are muffled from behind his hands as he marches after Sanemi. The shrieking of the cicada grew ever louder as they trekked deeper into the woods. Foxes darted past them, startled away by the crunching of twigs and leaves beneath clumsy feet and Genya gasped in wonder as one darted by close enough for its fuzzy tail to brush his leg.

 

Sanemi smiles fondly at the boy’s joy, sharp eyes searching the trees.

 

The buzzing grows closer… closer….

 

And there!

 

He laughs triumphantly as he spots the loudest cicada, forgoing using his net in favor of just prying the bug from the tree with his bare hands. It takes up most of the palm of Sanemi’s hand and Genya gapes at it.

 

“It’s big!!”

 

“I know! Ma says the big ones are called kuma-zemi cause they’re as big as bears! Hear how it makes that ‘shaa-shaa’ noise? Ma says that’s cause it’s looking for a wife!”

 

The cicada struggles in Sanemi’s grasp, yellow-green translucent wings fluttering angrily as it buzzes ear-piercingly loud. Sanemi lets Genya marvel at it for a minute longer before he drops it in the basket, quickly closing the top before it can escape. They wanted to show all their best catches to their mother!

 

Genya claps his hands, bouncing on his heels. “What now?”

 

“Now, we find more! We can look for dragonflies, or beetles, or more cicadas! My favorites are the beetles though. Maybe we can find a kabutomushi!”

 

“I wanna find a kabu… mushy?”

 

“Ka-bu-to-mu-shi,” he sounds out patiently for the boy. “Maybe we can find two of them and watch them wrestle! That would be so cool!”

 

“I wanna find the biggest one in the whole forest!” Genya cheers. Sanemi can’t resist the urge to pinch his little cheeks between his fingers, rolling the baby fat between them as Genya whined in protest. It was his own fault for being the cutest baby brother in the world. Nobody, not even the baby currently in their mother’s stomach, could outshine his Genya.

 

“We won’t find one if you keep yelling like that. C’mon! Let’s go a little deeper.”

 

“But Mama said we can’t go too far…”

 

“It’s okay! As long as we stick together. We can play a game! Whoever finds the biggest bug, wins.” Sanemi reassures, taking the boy’s free hand in his and leading him further into the woods. He scans the forest floor and every surface of every tree, determined to find a beetle to show off to his little brother.

 

So focused that he doesn’t even notice the moment Genya’s hand slips from his.

 

A few minutes pass before…

 

“There!”

 

He rushes forward, grabbing the rhinoceros beetle before it can fly away. It struggles in his grubby hand, letting out squeaking hisses and flailing its legs. Sanemi turns to triumphantly show off his catch to Genya only to find nothing but empty air behind him.

 

The time had gotten away from him. He’d been so focused on finding the beetle, that Genya had slipped from his sight! But surely he couldn’t have gotten too far, right…? He hears the nearby bush rustle and lunges for it, parting the leafy branches and startling the rabbits that had taken refuge there.

 

“Genya? Gen, where are you?! Now’s not a good time for Hide n Seek!” He calls, nervously. The nearby birds take off from his yelling, but still no sign of Genya.

 

He turns frantically, looking in every direction as his surroundings seem to almost spin around him.

 

“Genya, please!” His heart pounds frantically as about a thousand and one scenarios play out in his head. Genya lost and crying out for Sanemi; Genya having fallen in a ditch somewhere; Genya attacked by wild animals. All he hears is the rushing of his blood pumping and the sound of his own panting.

 

He spends what feels like hours searching every nook and cranny he can think of, growing only more frantic as time passes.

 

Frustrated and panicked tears line his lashes before he hears the most blessed sound.

 

“Nii-chan!! Over here!”

 

He sprints in that direction, tripping over forest debris, using his arms to push branches out of his way until…

 

He finds Genya sitting in front of a stump, ogling at a truly enormous rhinoceros beetle. Sanemi lunges for Genya, firmly wrapping his arms around the boy’s shoulders and burying his face in his soft hair. His shoulders shake as he tries to hold back his cries of relief. The sudden movement scares away the rhinoceros beetle and Genya whines with disappointment.

 

“Nii-chan? Are you okie?”

 

Sanemi sniffles, not wanting his brother to see him cry. He quickly wipes the budding tears from his eyes and composes his expression, laying his hands on Genya’s shoulders and holding him at arm’s length.

 

“Yeah, baby. I’m okay. I’m so sorry we got separated… I’m so sorry, you must have been so scared!”

 

“That’s okay! I wasn’t scared ‘cause I know Nemi will always come back for me!”

 

Sanemi stares at Genya with surprise splashed across his face. Of course, it was true, Sanemi could never abandon his precious brother. But to know Genya had so much unwavering faith in him was something else entirely. His eyes soften and he pulls Genya close.

 

“That’s right. Nemi will always, always come back for Genya.”

 

Genya smiles and pats Sanemi’s cheek reassuringly before pulling away. “You scared off the bug I wanted to show you! It was so big! And shiny and it had a cool horn!”

 

“The kabutomushi. They call it that 'cause its head looks like a kabuto!”

 

“Woah! Well, I found a huge one! I bet you can’t find one bigger than that.”

 

Sanemi chuckles, sitting with his back against the log and pulling Genya into his lap. He tips his head back and closes his eyes, the fading adrenaline leaving him suddenly exhausted.

 

“You’re right, Gen. I guess that means you won.”

 

He would rest here for just a few minutes, then they would find a few more bugs and make the long trek home, Genya securely on his back. But for now, Sanemi was content to rest and listen to his baby brother ramble about all the cool stuff he found.

 

---

 

Sanemi sighed from where he lay, curled into his futon. By the sound of Genya’s breathing and nervous shuffling, he could tell that the other boy was wide awake as well. If he kept shifting around like that, he would inevitably wake Koto, who would start crying and wake everyone else. But Koto refused to sleep anywhere else but at Genya’s side. After a few minutes, Genya breaks the tentative silence.

 

“Mom is late, isn’t she?”

 

“Hm?” Sanemi sighs, slowly sitting up so he can look over at his little brother. “Genya… You can’t sleep?”

 

“Well, neither can you, Nii-chan.”

 

True. It felt like something ominous was hanging in the air, an oppressive presence that made the more animal parts of his brain tingle with anxiety. He sighs again, pushing himself up and climbing to his feet.

 

“I’m going to look for mom.”

 

Genya sits up abruptly, resting a calming hand on Koto’s forehead when the boy stirs.

 

“I’ll go with you.”

 

Sanemi immediately raises a hand, softly shaking his head.

 

 “No. I’ll go. I want you to stay home.”

 

Someone had to look after the children, after all. And there was no one he trusted more than Genya. But Genya blinks up at him, a flash of hurt sparking in his wide eyes. Sanemi hums, resting a hand on Genya’s hair.

 

“We promised. Remember?”

 

Understanding wipes away the hurt in an instant and Genya smiles, nodding resolutely. “Right. Leave it to me.”

 

Sanemi smiles back, ruffling Genya’s hair. He had matured so much, from the baby who would cry every time he left the room, to the toddler that followed him everywhere, to now.

 

He walks to the door, slides it open, and pauses in the entry.

 

“I’m counting on you. And remember… Nemi will always come back for you.”

 

---

 

Sanemi’s steps slow as he passes the hallway that had the room where Genya was staying. He could still hear the boy’s mournful cries, and every step away from Genya felt like a thousand glass shards in the soles of his feet.

 

This was for Genya, he reminds himself. Everything was for Genya. If he turned back now, he would just put the boy in even more danger, of that he was sure.

 

Right?

 

He steps out into the front garden and leans against the wall, head tipping back so he can look at the early morning sky. If Masachika were here…

 

No.

 

“Remember,” he tells himself. “Cruelty can be a kindness.”

 

It’s what his mother had impressed upon him so long ago, a lesson he didn’t think he’d need to take to heart until now.

 

He closes his eyes, exhales through his nose, and steels his heart.

 

Still, Shinobu’s words linger in his mind. Genya had always been a delicate child and with this condition…

 

Who else knew Genya better than Sanemi? Not even their mother had spent as much time caring for the boy as Sanemi had, laden down with five other children vying for her attention and constant work. He had been more of a father to Genya than Kyogo could ever even dream of being.

 

“His memories are returning to him, meaning he’s about to relive every moment of his life all at once. Every bit of pain he’s ever experienced, returned to him all at once, every mental scar ripped open anew. On top of the pain of having his only family reject him. Maybe it won’t kill him, but there are worse fates.”

 

“Murderer! Murderer!”

 

Genya would have to relive that day all over again.

 

He pushes off the wall, dragging a hand down his face. He fights himself with every step he takes, but even as the sound of Genya’s cries fades, the suffocating weight on his chest remains. The entire trek back to his estate is agonizing and his weary mind longed for rest. He had rushed from one mission to the next until he had gotten that letter and beelined straight for the butterfly estate. He couldn’t quite recall the last time he had even slept for more than an hour at a time.

 

His estate was just a few miles out from the Butterfly mansion, in a wealthy neighborhood located toward the center of a bustling trade hub. He’d chosen the location due to its high population of travelers and merchants. Lots of human activity tended to mean a lot of demons as well.

 

Where the other Hashira had picked more secluded locations, Sanemi chose somewhere where his presence would be known to demons.

 

There were other benefits to living in a wealthy neighborhood too, of course. Like functioning water lines and electricity. Modern amenities that weren’t often afforded to the lower classes. Though he’d had access to electricity as a child, having access to water that he didn’t have to fetch from a well felt downright luxurious.

 

His home as a child had been… cramped, to put it lightly. A nagaya row house, with just a single room and attached kitchen for seven children and one adult, you would be lucky to stretch your arms out without hitting someone much less have your own room. When their father had been around, they’d been able to afford to live in a row house with one bedroom, though their father had claimed it for himself.

 

He rounds the corner that leads to his street, swaying slightly as he walks from exhaustion, both mental and physical. But as he steps onto his sprawling property and looks upon his home, he feels nothing but dread.

 

He knew what would greet him behind those doors.

 

Cold, dark hallways and empty rooms. More than enough space for a family of eight, all to himself.

 

“Tadaima*…” he sighs, stepping into the foyer, and the phantom echo of Genya’s voice in his mind answers.

 

“Okaeri*, Nemi.”

 

---

 

Genya’s wails only increase in volume the farther they get from Sanemi. He coughs, choking on his cries as his face flushes an alarming shade of red. He struggles against the hands holding him, panic rising as he’s easily overpowered.

 

Someone is speaking to him but he can barely make out their words.

 

“Genya! Genya, you need to calm down-”

 

“Something’s wrong! His breathing sounds all wrong-”

 

“I know! But he won’t-”

 

His ears ring as he claws at his throat, desperate for air as spots dot his vision. He choked and gasped, splotchy red face turning an ugly purple color as tears and snot dripped from his chin.

 

Distantly, there’s the sound of rushed footsteps, and blurry purple and white fills his vision. Something cold is shoved between his lips as a soft voice instructs him to breathe.

 

He feels anger spark in his chest. What did they think he was trying to do!?

 

“Slow and deep breaths, Genya. This will help you,” Shinobu soothed, petting his hair with one hand as she squeezed a rubber bulb, delivering his medicine through the nebulizer. It contained a corticosteroid, delivered by the compressed-air nebulizer with a squeeze bulb on the end and a tube inserted into Genya’s mouth. 

 

She watches as his struggles begin to slow as the lack of air starts to get to him, letting him take deeper, slower breaths and finally letting the medicine into his airways.

 

He sucks in a deep, greedy breath all at once. He coughs, dislodging the tube from his mouth and slumping forward. She pockets the device and gently scoops the limp boy in her arms as the others watch with wide eyes. She nudges open the ajar door with her hip, carrying Genya to one of the medical cots and tucking him in.

 

Genya flops limply against the mattress, head listing to the side as his eyelids droop. His head pounded and his vision spun with exhaustion as the adrenaline from his panic began to fade. He was so tired, too tired to fight the small, dainty hands that tucked his blankets around him. Too tired to even cry anymore.

 

The silence stretches thin until it’s broken by Zenitsu’s incredulous voice.

 

“What was that?!”

 

Shinobu looks at them with tired eyes for a moment before ushering them into the hallway, wanting to let Genya rest for a while. She shuts the door behind her, wanting to give the boy some peace while she talks.

 

“That was an asthma attack. The stress caused him to breathe faster, which caused his airways to become narrower and inflamed which triggered his asthma.”

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

She sighs. “Swelling and muscle tightening in his lungs made him unable to breathe. It’s a chronic condition that Genya has had for longer than I’ve known him.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Tanjirou interjects.

 

“It’s not my place to share sensitive information like that, but considering the circumstances, I feel it is now necessary. Assuming you still want to look after him?”

 

The redhead’s face turns solemn. “It’s our fault he’s in this situation and our responsibility to step up if his brother won’t. Tell us what we need to do to help his… asthma?”

 

She eyes them critically for a moment before nodding. She pulls the device from before from her pocket. A small, round, glass bottle with two tubes on either end with one of the tubes connected to a rubber squeeze bulb while the other glass tube is corked off.

 

“This is an air nebulizer. It compresses air to create a mist containing the medicine that goes in here,” she points at the round bottle. She then points at the tube with the cork. “This part goes in his mouth. You’ll remove the stopper beforehand. Once inserted in his mouth, you instruct him to breathe slowly and deeply. As he breathes, squeeze the bulb one to two times. This will administer the medicine in an aerosolized form. The goal is for him to inhale it and for it to reach his lungs to reduce the inflammation in his airways.”

 

Tanjirou’s brows are furrowed in concentration as he tries to commit it all to memory. Inosuke by now has completely checked out of the conversation while Zenitsu stands with his head tilted as if listening to something else. The yellow-haired boy is eyeing the door suspiciously, bushy brows furrowed. She follows his eyes to the closed door, vaguely remembering the boy's supernaturally good hearing.

 

She cracks open the door and peers inside at the lump on the bed, glancing back at Zenitsu. She’s about to shut the door again when the fluttering of curtains from a nearby window catches her eye. The cold wind blows in from the open window. The window that the hashira knew had been closed just a few minutes ago.

 

Her eyes widen as she throws open the door, her stomach sinking at the lack of reaction from the lump on the bed.

 

“Ms. Kochou? What are you…?”

 

She ignores Tanjirou’s question, storming into the room and pulling the covers off the bed. She reveals a small pile of messily arranged pillows, a childish ploy meant to imitate a sleeping body. A ploy that almost worked, she thinks bitterly.

 

Her eyes land on the Agatsuma boy next, and she can feel the pulsing vein in her forehead bulge as she desperately tries to keep a handle on the bubbling anger. Her sister wouldn’t lose her temper like this. But her sister wouldn’t have left a distressed and desperate child alone in a room without someone to watch him.

 

“You.”

 

Zenitsu jumps as he realizes that her eyes have locked onto him, boring into his skull.

 

“You knew something was wrong!”

 

“I didn’t! I just thought… I mean I heard some shuffling and the window opening but I thought maybe he just wanted some fresh air…” His eyes dart between Shinobu and the empty bed guiltily.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?! Or even just open the door to check? Your teacher would be ashamed!”

 

Zenitsu flinches, arms wrapping around his midsection as he curls inward. Tanjirou and Inosuke are already peering out the window, scanning the gardens for any sign of the boy. Instead, their eyes land on the sprawling expanse of trees that line the back garden of the estate. Plenty of places for a small, desperate child to hide.

 

Plenty of places for a sick, defenseless child to get hurt.

Notes:

* cruising - when babies hold onto stuff to walk
*Tadaima - shortened way of saying "I'm home"
*Okaeri - Welcome home

Please let me know if the description of the nebulizer is confusing: I spent hours researching how they dealt with asthma in the 1920's and technically the nebulizer I'm having Shinobu use is from the 1940s but shhhh they fight magic-wielding demons I don't think it's out of the question for Shinobu to have some advanced medical tools.
Fun fact: that research is how I got the name for the fic! I found an excerpt of a doctor's journal from 1912 published online in a study. The doctor from then described the sound of the patient's breathing as "musical" and that stuck with me.

Chapter 7

Notes:

I AM SO BACK!!! And I am so sorry for disappearing for so long!! I got absolutely SLAMMED by writer's block and life. But! I'm gonna try to post semi-regularly again! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter after so long! And I want to shout out Prince Blue once again for beta reading and letting me bounce ideas off of them!

His stomach grumbled, clenching painfully. A constant, gnawing agony so strong it almost made him want to throw up. It wasn’t his first time going hungry, though before he’d had the luxury of being able to sleep it off. Now he found that the sandman rarely came to him, and when he did find those fleeting moments of rest, he found his dreams haunted by the ghosts of his family.

 

He was no stranger to night terrors either, but before when his dreams had turned against him, Sanemi would be there. He would shyly ask if he could scoot his futon by his brother’s, wriggling closer to his reassuring warmth. And Sanemi would sigh, tell him he was getting too old for this even as he lifted his covers and gestured for Genya to join him.   

 

Even without the nightmares, sleep was hard to come by, paranoia hanging heavy over the small child. He couldn’t sleep in the woods for fear the wolves would come back for him, yet sleeping on the streets bore just as much, if not more risk. The risk that someone would hurt him or steal what little supplies he had on him.

 

Still, if he didn’t find food soon, there was no way he would be able to find Sanemi. Hunting was a no-go. He had no traps or hunting weapons and there was simply no way he’d be able to catch something with his bare hands. He was useless on his own.

 

So, his only alternative was the nearby town. Some backwater place that he had stumbled upon in his aimless wandering. A minor trade outpost, where traveling vendors from the nearby farming towns could unload their goods in exchange for finished products. The streets were lined with stalls, selling food and clothes.

 

 He’d had his eye on one particular place in the town, a stand that sold peaches and peach-based pastries. The stall was run by an older couple and Genya was hoping that their old age would make them easy marks.

 

He tries to play it casual, sidling up next to the stand, eyeing the bountiful harvest. He only needed one. When the deed was done, he starts to speedwalk away, head ducked and hands stuffed in his pockets.

 

“Thief! Thief! Get back here you little rat!!” The woman helping to run the stall suddenly shouted. Genya turns his head and sees her pointing in his direction, glare burning right through him. Her partner rounds the stall, setting off in a dead sprint after him, sending a jolt of pure fear and adrenaline through Genya.

 

He tries to run, ducking into the crowd to try to lose him when someone snatches him by the back of the shirt. He struggles and kicks, hands reaching up to try to keep the collar of his shirt from choking him.

 

“I got ‘im, Akio!”

 

The stall owner, Akio apparently, slows as he approaches, doubling over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. After a minute, he straightens up, back audibly popping as he levels a glare on the boy.

 

“I-I didn’t-”

 

“Empty his pockets.”

 

The man holding him adjusts his grip to hold onto his upper arm and reaches into his bulging pockets, pulling out the handfuls of peaches and baked goods he had nabbed.

 

He really only meant to steal one. But when he had been faced with the mountain of produce and baked goods, his gnawing hunger had gotten the best of him and he had stuffed his pockets full of everything within reach. His fatal mistake.

 

Faced now with the consequences, all he can do is cry as he’s held in place. People stop and stare at the commotion as the old stall owner glares at the ruined pastries and dirty peaches that lay in the dirt between them. The old man suddenly lunges forward, grabbing a fistful of Genya’s hair and shaking him violently.

 

“Do you know what you cost me, boy?! I have a family to feed! Bills to pay! I need every last yen!”

 

“I-I-I’m sor-sorry! I wa-was just… hun-h-hungry!” He trips over his words, trying desperately to pry the hands tangled in his hair away. “I-I don’t h-have anything!”

 

The man’s face darkens. He pulls up Genya’s sleeve, revealing dirty but otherwise unmarred skin.

 

“Someone should tattoo the brat. So, everyone will know that he’s a criminal!”

 

The man that had caught Genya scratches his cheek. “You know they outlawed that a good twenty odd years ago. Some shit about it being “uncivilized.” I think it’s to appeal to the westerners.”

 

Akio scoffs. “What’s uncivilized is having criminals running amok with no way to tell them apart! We’re getting too soft nowadays. Back when I was kid they’d have had him flogged and tattooed for everyone to see. Hell, even before that they would cut off the ears or noses of thieves. Every passing year we get more and more lenient on criminals. But I ain’t letting this slide! He’s gonna learn.”

 

“So, what’re you gonna do with the kid?”

 

“Oi!” Akio uses his free hand to point to another man. “You’ve got horses, don’t’cha?”

 

“Yeah, what about it?”

 

“Means you got a whip too, don’t it? And some rope?”

 

The man’s eyes widen before he barks out a laugh. “Yeah, I got a whip. Ain’t you goin’ a bit hard on the kid, though?” Despite his words, he makes no move to stop Akio, instead stepping inside his home to fetch his dressage whip and a bundle of rope. He hands the items off to Akio, much to Genya’s growing distress.

 

Akio drags Genya over to a nearby post, Genya fighting him the whole way there. Another villager steps in, grabbing his arms and tying them together. Akio then ties his hands to the post, notching it low so that Genya has to hunch over. He grabs the hem of Genya’s yukata, dragging it up to expose his back to the cool air.

 

“Pl-please! Please d-don’t!” Genya sobs, out of options. “I-I’ll help you pick fruit! Or run the stand! O-or h-help you bake n-new-“

 

“Shut up! As if I’d trust a little criminal around my products. Do you think I’m stupid, boy?”

 

“No! N-no please!”

 

The man falls silent, raising his hand. With a loud crack, he brings the whip down, lighting Genya’s nerves on fire. Before he can even register what’s happened, the whip cracks against his back again, stealing his breath away from the pain. He gasps, choking on his spittle as he weakly cries out, pleads for someone, anyone to step in and stop him.

 

The people just crowd around, whispering amongst themselves. Some laugh while others turn away, faces creased in sympathy. Yet no one intervenes.

 

Another crack of the whip and Genya feels his skin split from the force. He chokes out another cry, pleas falling upon deaf ears. The fourth hit comes and Genya feels his hope begin to dwindle. A fifth and he stops begging, crying silently as he grits his teeth.

 

He passes out somewhere between strike eleven and twelve.

 

Hours later, long after Akio had lost interest in teaching him his lesson, he wakes up on his knees, forehead pressed to the post that they’d left him tied to. His back feels raw, welts throbbing and thin lines of blood trailing down his skin. He doesn’t even have the energy to cry anymore, just trembles pathetically in the cold. His hands cramp uncomfortably, rope digging into his skin and knees aching from the cold, hard dirt.

 

He flinches, head whipping up as he hears careful footsteps approaching him.

 

The old woman from the stall; the one that had yelled after him. Tears well up in his eyes as he shakes his head. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. Did they stop just to wait for him to wake up so they could beat him again?

 

The woman wordlessly kneels beside him, brandishing a knife. The tears overflow and Genya’s struggles begin anew. God, were they going to kill him?! For peaches?!

 

But rather than plunge the knife into his flesh, she saws at the rope, cutting him free. He scurries backwards, a choked sob escaping his lips as it agitates his wounds. The woman drops the knife, holding out her hands placatingly.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he would… I’m sorry.”

 

Genya stares back at her, eyes wide, like a deer in headlights. The woman purses her lips and reaches into her pocket. Genya struggles to his feet, prepared to run when she pulls out something round and pink.

 

A peach.

 

“Here,” she whispers. “Take this and never come back. I can’t do anything else for you.”

 

Genya’s eyes dart between the fruit and the woman’s face, looking for any sign that it was a trick. He reaches for the peach, quickly snatching it from her, as if scared she would change her mind.

 

He nods haltingly, whispering a soft thank you before gathering all his remaining strength to limp his way out of town. He doesn’t stop until he’s reached the safety of the trees. Only then does he allow himself to rest, collapsing against a tree. He shakily lifts his arm, staring at the bruised piece of fruit clutched in his palm.

 

---

 

Genya pants and wheezes as he runs, tripping over rocks. The butterflies quickly scatter out of his path, wings frantically fluttering away. Genya dives for the cover of the trees and bushes that line the back garden, wincing as the branches dig uncomfortably into his skin.

 

He looks over his shoulder at the open window to make sure nobody saw him while he desperately tries to catch his breath, doing his best to ignore the faint whistling noise accompanying each inhale and exhale.

 

They hadn’t noticed he was gone yet and with his decoy in place, he hoped it would be a while before they did. Still, he knew he couldn’t rest for long. He had to find his Nii-chan.

 

“I don’t have a brother, especially not a sniveling little weakling like you!”

 

Genya scrubs his hands over his eyes, stopping the tears before they could start. There had to be an explanation, a reason.

 

His Nemi was the nicest, bestest nii-chan in the whole world. He wouldn’t just… turn his back on him. They had made a promise to each other, to protect their family together. That included Genya and Sanemi, didn’t it?

 

He jumps over large roots, pushing aside branches and bushes. Sanemi had taken him bug hunting many times before their other siblings were born, trekking to the forest a few miles out of town and spending all day amongst the trees.

 

He picks his way through, led only by instinct. He keeps moving forward until he starts to hear a sound off in the distance, running water. He suddenly becomes aware of how dry his mouth feels, changing his path to follow the sound.

 

Within minutes, he’s upon it, a small stream about a meter wide and two meters deep, running down from the direction of the mountain.

 

He collapses to his knees in front of the stream and plunges his hands into the water, cupping them to his mouth so he can greedily drink. He repeats the process three, four times before he’s satisfied, falling back to sit on his butt. His hands felt numb from the cold water, so he tucked them under his armpits, shivering pathetically. 

 

He had no clue where to go from here or where Nemi could have gone. He didn’t have much plan beyond “find Nemi.”

 

He hears a branch snapping nearby and he jumps to his feet, forgetting about the slippery slope he had precariously positioned himself on.

 

His feet fumble along the muddy stream bank and he throws out his arms to catch his balance. It’s all for naught, however, as he topples downwards into the icy water. He shouts in alarm, as he’s soaked in an instant, arms and legs scrabbling for purchase along the bank. He crawls his way out on the other side, coughing up the mouthful of water he had accidentally inhaled.

 

He pushes his bangs out of his face, forgetting about the mud now coating his hands and knees, smearing it over his forehead. He coughs and wheezes, airway constricting and limbs stiffening from the cold soaking him to the bone. His clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin.

 

A cold chill sends a shiver up his spine, the winter winds only adding to his discomfort. He tries to stand, to keep moving knowing it was only a matter of time before they caught on to his clever ruse. He slips in the mud again, landing on his chest and knocking what little breath he had out. He rolls over onto his side and his hands drift toward his neck, clutching his throat as the lack of air starts to make him panic.

 

His mother’s voice drifts through his mind, phantom hands petting through his hair.

 

“Stay calm, baby. Can you sit up for me?”

 

That was right. The doctor had taught them all how to handle his asthma attacks without any medicine readily available. Stay calm, sit up, get away from the trigger, drink something warm, and most importantly, try to take long, deep breaths.

 

The sensation disappears as he struggles to push himself up, crawling toward a nearby tree and leaning against the bark. Already it was getting easier to breathe. His vision blurs as he forces himself to take deep breaths, counting to five before he shakily exhales. Another wheezy breath in as tears slip down, washing away the mud in streaks across his cheeks.

 

Gradually, his airways begin to open up little by little. After what feels like an eternity but is, in reality, only a few minutes, he’s able to drag himself to his feet, clumsily stumbling his way through the brush. The feeling of phantom hands returns to him, this time against his back, urging him forward.

 

“You have to find him.”

 

He would find him. There was no alternative, no other choice for Genya. He forces one foot in front of the other. By now he’s stopped shivering, unable to even feel the cold as he mindlessly hobbles forward. He almost doesn’t notice how the trees part, giving way from a forest to a busy road.

 

He collapses by the wayside, garnering the attention of a few of the people. Most ignore him. After all, someone else would surely help the boy, and he certainly wasn’t their problem. With winter in full swing, most couldn’t afford even to lend a simple kindness.

 

All except one.

 

Sotaro pulls back on the reins to his mule, gradually slowing his cart to a stop not far from the boy. He leans over the side, hand on his knee, and peers at the child. He’s caked in mud and leaves from head to toe, obscuring most of his face, but Sotaro can still make out the deathly pallor of his skin and the way his too-big clothes cling to his body, soaked in water. The kid had to be freezing, yet he didn’t shiver, just sat there on his knees, muttering to himself nonsensically.

 

“Oi. Kid. You need a ride?”

 

He was heading to the nearby town regardless; it wouldn’t take him off course to drop the kid off at the shrine. Not to mention he had some burlap in the back that he could bundle up in. The boy tilts his head in his direction but otherwise doesn’t respond. He tries to stand but collapses once again.

 

Sotaro pauses, glancing in both directions to make sure no one is eyeing his cart before he climbs down from the driver’s seat. He jogs over, lifting the child from under his armpits and shuddering at just how cold he is. He brings the boy to the back of the cart and sets him down on the edge, grabbing some of the spare burlap cloth and winding it around the boy.

 

Once he was sure the boy was bundled and settled properly, he hopped back into the driver’s perch, urging his mule to go as fast as it could manage without spilling the products in the back. First, he’d make his deliveries and then drop the kid off at the local doc’s.

 

And with a snap of the reigns, they’re off.

 

---

 

“This way!”

 

Tanjirou darts confidently into the underbrush. His nose twitches like a rabbit’s and he closes his eyes to better focus his sense of smell. Genya had always had a bittersweet scent, though his newfound youth had only made it grow sweeter, though thankfully not overpoweringly so.

 

No, Genya had always had a more subtle, gentle smell. It was pleasant in the way a mother was warm though hard to truly enjoy, masked as it was beneath layers of anger and grief. It’s what drew Tanjirou to him, despite their rocky introduction.

 

He nimbly weaves around roots and beneath branches as the scent trail changes direction. The boy smelled scared and it made Tanjirou’s stomach swoop with pity. He can’t imagine what he must be going through, rejected by his brother when he had been so desperate to find him. But most of all Tanjirou felt angry.

 

Angry at himself for letting this happen in the first place, angry at Sanemi for so cruelly spurning his baby brother. He already strongly disliked the man for stabbing his poor sister. And he lets that anger fuel his determination, spurring himself faster, hunting the boy like a bloodhound until…

 

As focused as he was, he almost missed the burbling of the small stream, slipping slightly in the mud along its banks. Inosuke grabs his arm, yanking him roughly back against his bare chest to keep him from falling in. Tanjirou shoots him a small smile in thanks, but the other boy continues to eye the water warily.

 

“Snow melt,” he grunts brusquely, “from up the mountain.”

 

He points at the marks in the mud, near where Tanjirou had almost fallen in.

 

“He slipped here, fell into the water.”

 

Well, that explained why the scent trail went cold. The water washed away what direction the boy had gone in, leaving Tanjirou at a loss. He looks to Zenitsu, who cups his ears, clearly straining his hearing to try to pick up any hint of Genya’s signature sound. The rabbit fast thumping of his heart, always with an undercurrent of anxiety but still fierce and strong despite it.

 

But it’s muddled by the sounds of the nearby stream and the wildlife that stalk through the forest. There’s no way he could pick out one small child’s heartbeat out of the cacophony of nature. He shakes his head and Tanjirou’s gaze drifts back to Inosuke, their last hope.

 

The green-eyed boy cackles and puffs out his chest, posturing.

 

“Leave this to the Great Inosuke! Nothing gets past me!”

 

With that, he takes a running leap over the stream to the other side, using his spatial awareness technique to concentrate on his surroundings. To his left was a trail of broken branches, something having taken off somewhere in that direction. It could have been a medium to large animal or a clumsy child. To his right are a set of tracks. Judging by the pattern, the creature was on all fours, meaning left was his best bet for finding Tenya.

 

He signals for his minions to follow him, picking carefully through the path his quarry had left him to follow. He avoids every branch and leaf, seeming to know where everything was before he took each step. This was familiar territory for him, the hunt, the silent stalking. His prey would exhaust itself soon, he’d had little energy to begin with and that plunge into the icy waters from the stream would sap what little he had left.

 

A few minutes into his hunt, he finds evidence that he’s on the right track. A scrap of cloth that had caught and torn on a branch. He shows the scrap to the other two. Tanjirou’s nose twitches, picking up the trail once again. Genya had definitely gone this way.

 

The forest begins to thin out until they find themselves on the edge of a busy road. Tanjirou’s nose twitches as the scent of Genya is muddled by the various mixing smells of produce, livestock, and humans all gathered in one place. Inosuke scans for more signs of Genya’s tracks, finding only hoof prints and wagon trails.

 

There’s not even a hint of what direction Genya could have gone in from here, and the trio begins to feel a creeping sense of despair wash over them.

 

“We need to let Ms. Kochou know right away.”

 

---

 

Shinobu treads the well-paved roads leading to Sanemi’s mansion, located in the middle of a wealthy neighborhood. It wasn’t too far from the Butterfly estate, a mere few miles away in a prosperous, budding town known for its trade. Surrounding the city were sprawling, fertile farmlands to the southeast, mountainous forests to the north, and a river teeming with fish to the west.

 

It was in the perfect position to flourish. And though Sanemi had been the only Hashira bold enough to choose his estate to be in town, Shinobu had herself set up shop along one of the many roads leading to and from the town.

 

She rounds the corner, finding the gate to his home firmly shut. It wasn’t much of an obstacle for her though, choosing to simply climb over it, fluttering down into the barren garden area. What once had surely been full to the brim with luscious plant life was now littered with broken training dummies, sliced bamboo, and discarded training swords.

 

The whole estate had been transformed from a luxurious mansion to a glorified dojo, every inch dedicated to Sanemi’s hatred for demons.

 

She always found the place saddening.

 

She slides open the front door, stepping into the foyer without fanfare. Sanemi sits in the middle of the room, back to her.

 

He doesn’t move from his spot, hands braced on his knees as he glares at the far wall.

 

“I thought we’d settled this.”

 

“We have,” Shinobu says, tone clipped and prim. “This is a part of our deal. An update on Genya’s situation.”

 

“What more is there to say?”

 

“He’s disappeared.”

 

Sanemi’s stomach drops. Disappeared? Gone?

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“After you left, he escaped. I sent some slayers and a few kakushi to try to track him down, but so far they’ve turned up nothing. His scent trail went cold and they lost his tracks.”

 

“How could you let a child escape under your watch?! What kind of Hashira are you that a six-year-old gets past you? It hasn’t even been a full day.”

 

From her position standing in the doorway, she can just barely make out the bulging veins in his hands and can hear the faint grinding of his teeth as his breath whistles past them.

 

“He’s been gone for a few hours now. We think he may have fallen into an ice melt stream, which means it’s only a matter of time before hypothermia sets in.”

 

There’s the sound of shifting, and then seconds later she finds herself nose to nose with the man. Everything about him screams “rage.” From the throbbing veins and red cheeks to the crease of his brows and shuddering, huffing breaths. She can almost hear the pounding of his heart.

 

Everything but his eyes.

 

His eyes have the look of a cornered animal, desperate and willing to do anything to survive.

 

“Where,” he hisses, “did the trail go cold?”

 

Notes:

Next chapter is gonna be a doozy for me to write but I can't wait to get it posted! I'm glad to be back and I'm sorry I haven't been responding to comments lately. Just know that I read them all and love everything you guys have to say<3
And if you want in time updates on the story as well as other rambles I recommend joining the Blue Server here: https://discord.gg/h3AwbsjE

Chapter 8

Notes:

HIIII! I think I'm gonna shoot for monthly updates for this fic. Luckily, I got a bit of a surge of writing inspiration lately so I'm hoping I can keep up with it this time! I also got really into writing analysis on tumblr lol. Please peep the new tags before proceeding as there is a bit of gore in this chapter (thanks Sanemi).
I want to thank Princeblue once again for Betaing this fic!!! She helps me out so much with the writing of this fic I can't thank her enough!

For just a moment in time, all Sanemi could see was red.

 

He doesn’t even really register that Genya is screaming at him. He sees the boy, splattered in blood, clutching their mother’s fading body, but all he can hear is a ringing in his ears. He sees the boy’s mouth move and hears him shouting beneath the din.  

 

“Murderer! Murderer!”

 

The words are meaningless to him.

 

His head tilted back, his eyes tracking the rising sun. Everything seemed so sharply in focus yet dull at the same time. Ashes are floating up in the wind.

 

His mother’s ashes.

 

He watched in real-time as the color drained from the world around him, fading it all to a dull, washed-out mess. His face feels warm, but he is painfully cold.

 

He doesn’t know when he started moving, feet mindlessly plodding forward, taking him anywhere but there. His hand stays clutched around the handle of the cleaver, muscles tense and trembling. He couldn’t let go of it even if he wanted to.

 

He passes the rubble of their home, the scent of blood and anguish drifting on the wind. He doesn’t even spare it a glance, neck stiff.

 

He passes the old shrine where Genya would hide when he was scared. He would tuck himself away right under the stone steps, huddled and achingly small.

 

So tiny.

 

His eyes burn, and something drips from his chin, staining the earth with a soft little “plip, plop, plip.”

 

He blinked the wet, and the red away, head still tilted back, eyes never leaving the sky.

 

There is yelling in the distance, screams and shouts, but Sanemi’s feet slow for nothing, treading forward endlessly, one after the other.

 

Before long, he no longer recognizes his surroundings.

 

Hours pass agonizingly slow. He feels every ticking second, every sting from the cuts on his face, yet they feel foreign to him. As if his soul had taken a step slightly to the left of his body, trailing endlessly behind himself, running, running, running.

 

The sun dips below the horizon, and Sanemi mourns. The wetness on his face had long cooled and dried, crusted over and uncomfortable.

 

He stops with the dull realization that his feet are bleeding. Blisters that had formed and burst over the hours he’d spent walking. He’d felt them but just… hadn’t cared. He had followed the path leading out of town for hours, and now he finds himself standing in the middle of nowhere, surrounded on either side by sprawling produce fields.

 

The back of his neck prickles with the feeling that eyes are on him. He can hear the distant sound of a voice muttering, and his head finally turns, tilting in the direction of the sound.

 

“What,” the voice hisses,” is that delectable smell?”

 

The creature stumbles out from behind a nearby tree, drunkenly sashaying closer to the young boy. Sanemi’s eyes trail over it. It is dressed in monk’s robes, looming over him and carrying a sake bottle in one hand. It wore a comically distorted ogre mask that hid everything but the beast’s mouth. And it had to be a beast with teeth like that, skewed outwards in a grotesque overbite; they stuck out to the sides, deadly sharp.

 

“Marechi,” it slurs. Drool drips from its fangs, vile and hungry. It brings the sake bottle to its lips and tips it back, pouring a thick, red liquid into its maw, guzzling it down noisily. It empties the entire bottle, shaking loose the last few precious drops. It messily wipes its mouth with the back of its sleeve. “I needed a refill, and you came at the perfect time.”

 

It stinks of booze and death and reaches its free hand up, grasping the mask in its meaty fingers. It tips the mask, revealing one of its bloodshot eyes. Full of hunger and bloodlust.

 

The same hunger and wild rage that had filled his mother’s eyes.

 

For the first time in hours, the cold lump in his chest unfurls, a cup spilling over with red-hot rage. His grip on the cleaver readjusts, and the pain fades to nothing. The demon’s eye glitters with amusement as it readjusts the mask.

 

“A feisty one. Good. Gets the blood pumping when they fight back.”

 

It grins and laughs before lunging for him. Sanemi sees it coming as if in slow motion, diving to the right. It stumbles and nearly falls flat on its face. However, it seems to find amusement in its clumsiness, chuckling under its breath.

 

“It’s been so long since I’ve felt a buzz like this, kid.”

 

It turns toward him, slow and awkward, and Sanemi raises the knife. It takes a swing at him, fist closed in a roundhouse punch, and it grazes Sanemi’s injured cheek, reopening the slash wounds, blood pouring anew. The effect on the creature is almost immediate.

 

Its shoulders slump, arms hanging loosely. It inhales, long and slow, savoring the scent of blood in the air. Its sake bottle almost slips from its fingers, but it quickly readjusts its grip. He couldn’t lose it, not this—his last gift from his darling Sachiko.

 

Sanemi runs at him, knife at the ready. The demon staggers toward him, ready to meet him head-on, but at the last second, Sanemi ducks to the left, cutting off the fingers of its left hand.

 

The hand holding the sake bottle.

 

The bottle slips from the monster’s grasp, shattering against the ground.

 

It wails in despair, collapsing to its knees as it frantically gathers up the shards. But Sanemi does not give it leeway, lunging for the beast and tackling it to the ground. He rolls it onto its back and straddles the creature’s chest, plunging the knife down into its neck and chest. He aims for its face, but the knife is unable to pierce through the mask. He grunts in frustration, hooking his fingers under the mask and pulling.

 

Unlike before, when the demon had so easily slid it off, it doesn’t want to budge, but Sanemi is nothing if not determined. With the sickening sound of tearing flesh, Sanemi pries the mask off, bits of skin and viscera hanging from the wood. He tosses it away in disgust, returning to the skinless visage of the demon. All that’s left is a mess of sinew and muscle, bulging eyes staring at him with something akin to fear as he lifts the knife in both hands, plunging it into the center of its face over and over and over.

 

Its skin starts to knit back together around the knife, but as fast as it heals, Sanemi twists the knife, pulling it out and sinking it back in. He pulverizes it, bone cracking beneath his cleaver. It struggles beneath him, claws digging into his sides. But the more blood it draws, the more sluggish it becomes.

 

And eventually.

 

The sun rises once again.

 

It tries to scream through torn vocal cords, its broken jaw falling open as the sunlight burns its flesh. Billowing ash rises from its clothing within seconds, leaving nothing behind but empty clothes.

 

Just like his mother.

 

So, there were monsters like this all over then. Despicable, disgusting creatures that feared the sunlight, that ripped apart little boys and girls, that turned mothers into monsters.

 

Sanemi’s hands shook, the demon’s blood turning to dust and disappearing from his palms, leaving only his own blood behind.

 

He’d kill them. He’d kill them all.

 

He stumbles to his feet on shaking legs, adrenaline still pumping through his veins, each throb of his heart sending another gush of blood from his wounds. The demon had left bloody claw marks up his back and sides, though none were so deep as to be fatal.

 

The pain kept him in the moment, kept him sane as he watched the ashes fade.

 

The creature, the demon, had healed around his blade and would have healed completely had he stopped attacking it at any point. He would need more than this piddly cleaver to hunt down every last one.

 

At the edge of the field, he spots a glint of metal and beelines for it, dropping to his knees to dig through the mud, uncaring for how it stains his already soiled, white clothing.

 

A sickle.

 

Perfect for cutting off limbs. He could shave the fuckers down, string them up and watch them burn. He just needed some more equipment.

 

He promised himself, then and there, that he would never let a demon harm his family ever again.

 

---

 

Ten years later, Sanemi still held that promise close to his chest. When that demon had snapped him out of his stupor and shown him that there were more of its kind in the world, it had given him a purpose. Looking back on that day, Sanemi had been extremely lucky. Lucky for his special blood, which made the demon clumsy, sloppy, and emotional. Lucky for his high pain tolerance and the demon missing his arteries.

 

That night, he’d made the most difficult decision in his life.

 

To leave Genya behind.

 

Where he was going, his baby brother couldn’t follow.

 

And yet, he had anyway.

 

When Sanemi had found out Genya had joined the corps, when he had seen his kid brother again for the first time in years, dressed in that damned uniform, Sanemi had felt his world crash around him all over again.

 

He was still so small, wearing the same purple yukata he’d scrounged money to buy for the boy after he’d stared at it in the market stall for a second too long. The hakama pants of the standard uniform drowned his scrawny figure, making him look impossibly frail.

 

Just like their mother had been.

 

He couldn’t bear to even look at him.

 

And when Genya had set his eyes upon him, they had lit up with so many emotions—hope, sorrow, joy, and despair. Yet there was no hesitation in the boy, only determination in his approach, an apology on the tip of his tongue.

 

“Nii-” he chokes back the word. “A-Aniki, I- you, I mean, I-I’m so glad to-”

 

“Don’t call me that.” It wasn’t right. He was supposed to be Nii-chan.

 

“W-what?”

 

“Scum like you… can’t be my brother. Quit the Demon Slayer Corps,” he forces out through grit teeth.

 

He fixes his expression into one of scorn, forcing himself to turn around and face the boy that haunted both his sweetest dreams and most awful of nightmares.

 

The boy stares up at him, eyes searching for answers and finding nothing in Sanemi’s eyes. He is unyielding, he will not allow himself to give in to old habits. The Sanemi of ten years ago would have swept Genya into his arms and coddled him close with the confidence of a boy who believed monsters only took the shape of men.

 

But Sanemi knew better now— was entrenched so deeply into this life that he couldn’t risk even the thought of dragging Genya down with him. And yet the boy had dove head first into the abyss anyway, foolishly following Sanemi into the dark.

 

“I-I just wanted to apologize… f-for-”

 

“I don’t care what you came here for. Get out of my sight.”

 

“Aniki!”

 

“I have no brother!” The words burst out of him, desperate and visceral.

 

Genya looks as if he had just struck him across the face, feet rooted in place as Sanemi turns and begins to walk away.

 

“B-but why…?” His brother’s teary voice, so small, seemed to echo so loudly in the clearing. Sanemi leaves him with no answers.

 

That day, Sanemi visits Masachika’s grave for the first time since his death. He brings Zinnias and ohagi and lights a stick of incense.

 

“Hey, Masachika. That stupid kid brother of mine went and joined the Demon Slayer Corps, of all things.”

 

He’s not sure what he was hoping for. Some enlightenment, he supposes. For Masachika’s spirit to guide him somehow, to point him toward the right answer. He knew what the other slayer would say: that they should take Genya in, welcome him.

 

But he wasn’t like Kocho; the idea of letting Genya walk this bloody path with him repulsed him.

 

He was far too kind to be a demon slayer. Kocho, Masachika, his mother, they had all been kind too, and the world had destroyed them. Genya was the type of person who put others before him, the boy who spent every waking moment tending to his little siblings and still looked at Sanemi and wished he could do more.

 

Sanemi knew about Genya’s childish desire to take care of him, too. He saw the worry in the boy’s eyes whenever he saw Sanemi hard at work. But Genya didn’t understand. It was Sanemi’s pride and joy as his older brother to care for him. Every callous on his palm, every aching muscle, every hard-earned yen reminded him of his purpose.

 

Now, that purpose had changed, but fundamentally, it stayed the same. He would protect Genya, and he devoted every ounce of his being to that. Every scar was a point of pride; every demon slain was one more monster that would never lay its filthy claw upon his baby brother.

 

Sanemi was not a religious man, but in his darkest moments, he prayed feverously for Genya’s happiness and health. At his loneliest, he thought of Genya, surrounded by a family of his own. At his most hopeless, he thought of Genya, old and withered by time, laugh lines carving valleys into his skin.

 

He admits it was, perhaps, naïve of him not to keep tabs on Genya before he joined the corps. He’d just always assumed that, based on how their last interaction ended, Genya wouldn’t come looking for him. That he would go on to live an everyday life, unburdened by the thought of demons or Sanemi.

 

Sanemi once heard of a thought experiment about a box and a cat. Supposedly, if you did not look in the box, the cat would be theoretically both alive and dead. Similarly, if Sanemi had never looked at what was going on with Genya, he could have gone on with the assumption that Genya was happy, and theoretically, it would have been true.

 

The next time Sanemi saw Genya, he almost couldn’t believe it. The boy he once knew had shot up in height, towering over his peers, skin covered in stretch marks from where his muscles had suddenly grown exponentially. Even his clothing had changed, shifting to something more form-fitting and less traditional.

 

It had only been a brief sighting, Sanemi seeing Genya distantly from across the courtyard at the butterfly mansion. But it was ingrained in his memory because it was wholly contradictory to the image he had of Genya in his mind.

 

The boy he had known had grown into what looked like a man.

 

A very familiar man, with hands that hurt and eyes that burned.

 

Guilt eats away at him for the very thought. Genya was nothing like that man. He put others before himself, his bleeding heart constantly beating for his family. Genya was the type who would do anything to protect others. That was what had gotten him into this whole stupid situation, to begin with.

 

Throwing himself between a demon and that Kamado boy. When he had seen Genya like that, so small and vulnerable he had panicked. All his memories had come rushing back and in that moment of weakness he feared he wouldn’t be able to keep Genya at a distance.

 

He thought he’d made the right decision, that surely Shinobu of all people could keep tabs on a child. If… when he found Genya, he’d be sure to put Genya with someone competent this time.

 

He glares at Shinobu’s back as they race to spot where Genya’s trail had gone cold. If any harm befell his brother, he would rip the very earth apart to make it right.

 

---

 

When Genya wakes up, he first notices the cold. He shivers, arms immediately coming up to wrap around himself as he turns on his side, curling into a small ball. The second thing he notices is that he is somewhere unfamiliar once again. He abruptly sits up, and that’s when he comes to his third realization as the blanket someone had laid over him slips from his bare shoulder: someone had taken his clothing.

 

It doesn’t take him long to find them piled in a heap in the corner of the room. The fourth thing he notices is that there are hushed but harsh voices arguing just behind the Noren curtain.

 

“-can’t just drop him off and leave!” The first voice hissed.

 

“Well, what else am I ‘sposed to do? You can’t expect me to pay for some kid I don’t know. You didn’t even do anythin’,” the second voice replies.

 

“You brought him here. And I provided standard care for hypothermic patients,” Voice One explains, defensive. “Plus, I wrapped his feet.”

 

“Jeez, if I’d known the kid was just cold, I wouldn’t’ve bothered bringin’ ‘im here!” Voice two exclaims.

 

Genya slid off the hard examination table he’d been laid out on, flinching as his feet touched the ground, which aggravated the blisters and cuts he had gotten while running through the forest. Someone had bandaged his feet, but it did little to dull the pain.

 

He shuffles toward his discarded clothing with the blanket wrapped around him. He reaches for them, only to flinch back at the ice-cold touch of the cloth. Shit, he couldn’t put those back on. This close, he could see they were caked in mud and dirt, torn and wet.

 

He cautiously peaks slowly through the curtain. Arguing just on the other side are two older men, a tall, gangly man and a stout man in a doctor’s coat. The tall and thin man, who he identifies as Voice Two, runs a hand through his thinning hair.

 

“I can’t pay for ‘im, plain an’ simple. And I don’t think ya really did much o’ anythin’ anyway.”

 

The doctor’s pudgy face reddens in indignation, and he jabs his finger at the taller man’s face.

 

“Now you look here! Thief! Scoundrel! I’ll call the police here and now if I don’t get some kind of payment!”

 

“Ah, come on. Didn’t think it was gonna be all this trouble. Can’t ya take ‘im on as an apprentice or somethin’? Boy clearly ain’t got parents. Or if he does, they’re good for nuthins. Think of it as free labor. Work the boy ‘til he pays off his debt or just sell him outright. Or you could grow a heart and send ‘im on his way.”

 

Genya’s lips press thin as he sees the doctor pause and think about it for a second. Like hell, was he sticking around. His eyes land on the exit just behind the arguing pair and he chews his lip. No way he was getting out through there. And he still hadn’t figured out how he would solve the whole clothes problem. He didn’t exactly have all the time in the world.

 

He scans the room, spotting a cabinet with some drawers. Scurrying over, he hurriedly pulls each one open and finds it stuffed to the brim with tools, trinkets, and bandages. It’s not until he gets to the bottom drawer that he sees something useful.

 

A spare doctor’s coat, folded and pressed neatly into a little square of white fabric. Genya snatches the coat and shakes out the fabric, shoving his tiny arms through the sleeves and tying the excess fabric around his waist. The sleeves are much too long, and the bottom of the coat drags the floor, but it does the job. Another cursory glance around the room reveals a small window located just over the desk in the far corner of the room. He thinks he may be just big enough to wriggle his way through it.

 

He glances back toward the curtain. The whispers had stopped, which meant he needed to hurry. So, he clambers onto the desk, nails scrabbling for purchase on the smooth wood as he struggles to get his legs over the top of the wood. He flops, rather ungracefully, onto his tummy on top of the desk before pushing himself up to scoot toward the window.

 

He fumbles for the latch, heaving and pulling at the bottom to raise the window. Just as it begins to budge, he hears the swish of the curtain pulling back and an indignant voice yelling at him.

 

“Hey! Just what do you think you’re doing?!”

 

Thunderous footsteps echo through the room as Genya manages to lift the window. He dives forward just as hands snatch him around the waist, yanking him back and away from freedom. He shrieks in distress, grabbing the edges of the sill to no avail. Hands, rough and bruising and uncaring, dig into his sides, and Genya panics, scenes flashing behind his eyes, some he doesn’t even recognize. Their grip shifts, and Genya cranes his neck, sinking his teeth into the nearest bit of flesh he can find, canines breaking the skin with a sickening pop.

 

There’s a roar of pain and rage, and then a fist smashes into the side of Genya’s face, dislodging his teeth from the doctor’s arm. His head spins, and stars dance before his eyes as he’s dropped unceremoniously in a heap.

 

“Argh! Now look what you made me do!” The doctor shouts, spittle flying from his mouth. He fumbles through the drawers, frantically looking for disinfectant and bandages as he clutches his bleeding forearm.

 

Genya sobs, hand cupping his reddened cheek as he drags himself into a corner of the room. Blood dribbles from his lips, his own mixing with the doctor’s and dripping onto the white lab coat as he curls himself into a ball, hands protecting his head, just like Sanemi had taught him to do when their father went on his rampages.

 

He remembers those days when he would hide behind his brother like a coward while Sanemi took blow after blow. Sanemi had always been the brave one between them, so kind and strong.

 

The doctor grumbles as he cleans and wraps his wound, shaking out the hand he had punched him with.

 

“You had better be worth the trouble. You street rats rarely are.”

 

He stands and paces back toward the curtain, where he had dropped something in his haste to stop Genya from escaping; a bundle of rope.

 

---

 

“This is where Tanjirou-kun and his companions lost the trail. He says the scent is too muddied to make out just Genya’s in all this, and the tracks end here.”

 

Shinobu gestures at the petering set of tiny tracks, just to the side of the main road into town.

 

Sanemi scoffs. Amateurs. Just because the obvious trail ended doesn’t mean you could just give up on a hunt.

 

How could they throw in the towel when an innocent child’s life was on the line? Damn them.

 

He leans down to examine the point where Genya’s tracks ended, finding another set of tracks leading up to them—an adult’s footprints. Someone had picked Genya up here and taken him with them. It was likely one of the traveling merchants heading into town, which made that his best bet for searching. Judging by the size of the tracks, he would guess male, and the space between each step suggested someone tall.

 

He abruptly turns on his heel, beelining for the nearby town, ignoring Shinobu, who follows curiously. He’d check the market first to see if he could track down the merchant who had picked Genya up. If not, he was likely dropped off at a shrine or orphanage. There were about five shrines on the outer limits of the city and three orphanages near the slums.

 

It’s as he’s scouring the market that he hears it. He’s perched by a textile stand, eyeing one of the men selling his wares, a tall man that fits his criteria. Just as he’s about to start questioning the merchant, he overhears the idle chat between two women just a few yards away, taking their laundry down to bring inside.

 

“Didn’t you hear?” A woman in a bright red kimono, carrying a basket of laundry, gossips to her companion. “Apparently, Dr. Akio ‘rescued’ some Koji boy.”

 

Sanemi’s ears prick up at that. Over the years of demon hunting, he’d quickly learned that regular people were sometimes the greatest source of intel there was.

 

“That weasel? Rescue someone? You can’t believe everything you hear, dear,” her friend replies, laughing from behind her hand.

 

“It’s true! And now he’s trying to pawn him off on the first person willing to shell out the yen! Poor dear, if he’s lucky, maybe some rich folk will take him in as a servant. He’s much too frail looking to be a farm hand.”

 

With every word, the pit in Sanemi’s stomach grows. A koji boy… so an orphan or a runaway… Genya certainly fits both of those descriptions. Too frail for the farm… Genya had been on the smaller side when they were children.

 

Bloodshot eyes land on the two women going about their business, and he steps between them, uncaring that they flinch back from his presence. He can’t bring himself to give a shit at all, not when his little brother was possibly being auctioned off somewhere.

 

“Where did you see the boy? What did he look like?”

 

He resists the urge to grab the woman in red by the shoulders, no matter how badly he wants to shake the information from her. She eyes him up and down, clutching her laundry basket close to her chest.

 

Shinobu is quick to intervene, stepping between them with a bow.

 

“What my husband means is, we’re actually in the market for a servant of our own. We just had our second child, you see, and a servant to take care of the house chores would be a huge weight off of our shoulders.”

 

Sanemi’s irritation rises with every word, but the ruse does its job. The woman’s shoulders relax as she takes in Shinobu’s more refined aura.

 

“Oh my! Wouldn’t you prefer a little girl for house duties? It’s just that young boys can be so rough around children, you know? And this boy certainly looks the rowdy type.”

 

“We don’t have a gender preference. Labor like this is getting harder to… discreetly purchase nowadays.”

 

“Aahh. Yes, yes, you’re right. Well, I heard Akio is taking him down by the townhouses to try to appeal to the richer folk. Can’t miss him! He’s got the boy all tied up like a cow, the brute. His head is shaven on the sides, and he’s filthy; you really can’t miss him.”

 

Sanemi doesn’t even wait for her to finish before he takes off. Ironically enough, the townhouses and estates were close to where he lived. He doesn’t even bother taking the roads, leaping onto the siding of a nearby building to climb onto the roof. He takes the high road, jumping from building to building and scanning the earth for any sign of his brother, seething.

 

The woman’s words echo in his mind. “Looks the rowdy type,” “filthy,” and “tied up like a cow.” How dare they? How dare they treat his brother like that? Unforgivable, the whole lot of them. Treating a child like property to be bartered and sold, though he knew it was legal, was often only seen amongst the genuinely desperate or the truly depraved.

 

With every passing second, Sanemi’s heart races faster and faster. Every minute was another minute with his brother out for auction; another moment he was alone in the cold. His thoughts race with possibilities until he can hardly stand it, hands trembling at his sides in ways they never had before.

 

He can see his estate by now, and still no sign of Genya. Until…

 

“Get the hell up!”

 

His head snaps toward the rough voice as he lands on the edge of a nearby building, perching on the corner. Below him, there is a short man who is stocky and dressed nicely. At his feet lays a little boy.

 

The boy’s hair is caked in mud, dried and flaking, and his cheek is red and swollen, as if he’d been struck. He’s swaddled up in what appears to be a white coat of some kind, the sleeves folded over his hands and the ends tied around his waist to at least preserve his dignity. He sits up on his knees, and Sanemi notices his feet are wrapped in bandages. His wrists are bound together in rope, the other end held by the nicely dressed man. He tugs hard at the rope, sending Genya crashing face first back into the dirt.

 

Sanemi hears something snap in his mind, and the next second, he is between his brother and the man, the bastard’s pressed shirt clutched in his fist as he dangles him a foot off the ground. He feels… oddly calm, almost serene, as he watches the man’s legs kick out in panic, his eyes bulging like a fish. He lifts the man higher, watching the way his tie constricts around his throat.

 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Sanemi intones. His lip twitches in the facsimile of a smile, baring his teeth like a wild dog. “What you’re doing to my brother? It’s unforgivable. I’ll kill you.”

 

“B-brother?” The man sputters. He desperately holds onto Sanemi’s wrist, making a pathetic attempt to pry apart his iron-clad grip. “I had no idea the boy had any family at all! I swear it! He was just some… some runaway that one of the merchants dropped off!”

 

Sanemi drops the man, and he crumples like wet paper, falling to the ground and coughing as if he’d been choked within an inch of his life. Sanemi plans to leave him like that, his brother was more important after all. Perhaps he’d deal with him later.

 

“Wait,” the man coughs out, “your brother, he owes me.”

 

Sanemi’s steps pause.

 

“Just look at his feet! I bandaged them myself! He came to me exhibiting symptoms of hypothermia, and I treated him for that as well!”

 

“Consider your very breath payment enough.”

 

“He bit me! Stole my coat! Surely, I deserve some kind of-”

 

Sanemi had heard enough. He turns abruptly, marching back over and picking the man up by his shirt once again. He rears back his fist and punches him square in the jaw, dislodging one of the man’s teeth and knocking him unconscious in an instant. He drops him, dusting off his palms as if he’d touched something truly filthy. He spits on the man’s unconscious body, just for one last insult. This wouldn’t be the end of it. The man deserved far worse than just a punch to the face, but one whine from his brother catches Sanemi’s attention.

 

He practically runs to Genya’s side. The boy had pulled himself off the ground again, sitting up on his knees.

 

Genya stares up at him with something akin to awe. This close, the swelling in his cheek looks worse than it had from a distance, partially closing one of Genya’s eyes, and there’s dried blood at the corners of his mouth. He’s pale and shaking from the evening air, blood beginning to soak through the bandages on his feet. His arms are tied in front of him, and his wrists are rubbed raw from where he’d been struggling against the restraints. Still, he looks up at Sanemi with nothing but relief.

 

“Nii-chan,” he breathes, “you came.”

 

Tears well up in the corners of wide, violet eyes. Where the rest of his siblings had puppy eyes, rounded and broad, Genya’s were more akin to that of a kitten’s. More pointed at the corners and less rounded, but still wide nonetheless, almost too big for his face. Even the way he would mewl and paw for his attention as children had been cat-like, the boy eager just to bask in his presence.

 

He kneels down, gently untying the rope from his hands. Almost instantly, the boy throws his arms around Sanemi’s waist, burying his face against his stomach as sobs spill from his lips. Genya… he must have been so scared, so terrified. Just trying to find his family in this big, crazy world, only to be caught up in the labor trade of all things.

 

The buying and selling of child labor wasn’t nearly as common as it used to be, frowned upon as it was in this new “modern world.” Still, it happened and was especially common in slums and rural areas, though he never expected his brother to have to go through it.  

 

Slowly, haltingly, he lifts a hand and buries it in Genya’s dirty hair, petting softly to comfort the boy. He looks up at the sound of footsteps, eyes meeting the empty violets of Shinobu across the street. Her smile is just as fake as ever, but there’s something smug about how she stands there regarding them; Sanemi can’t help the way he sneers at her.

 

Genya slumps against him, drawing his attention away from the woman as he looks down with concern. All the fight had left Genya’s body, and he finally felt safe with his older brother in arm’s reach. His head lists to the side, one tired eye peaking up at him, filled with so much emotion it made Sanemi ache.

 

“Nii-chan,” he whimpers, “please don’t leave me behind. Wanna go home.”

 

Fuck.

Notes:

The demon in this chapter actually has his own backstory if anyone is curious about it! I can't seem to be able to make a demon without also giving it lore lol.
Anyways! I recently made a writing blog on tumblr! It's the same name: Pompomchihuahua and I write KNY analysis and post mini updates on how my writing is going! Feel free to hit me up on tumblr if you ever have any questions about my fics<3

Chapter 9: Wind, Wind, Don't You Cry

Notes:

Well, uh, hi everyone. I know this chapter has been a LONG wait, but if it's any consolation, it's twice the length of the previous chapters! Actually, while updates may be slower, I plan to start putting out longer chapters from here on out! But know that I won't give up on this story!!!
Now, this chapter wouldn't exist at all if not for the lovely PrinceBlue!!! She let me bounce ideas off of her and helped talk me through it whenever I got writer's block on top of beta reading for me!! Seriously, go check out their work!!!!!!

Sanemi’s feet dragged through the dirt, catching upon a stone and nearly sending him face first into the ground. He grunts, catching himself with shaking arms.

 

How long had he been going now? When did he last sleep? Eat? He couldn’t remember. Did it matter?

 

For the first time in a long while, he tries to take stock of his surroundings. He strayed from the main road some time ago, wandering aimlessly around the base of the mountain. He thinks he passed a town about a mile back, but his memories are hazy. Now all he sees are trees as far as the eye can see.

 

Pathetic.

 

He was so pathetic. If he couldn’t protect his family directly, then the least he could do was eliminate all the demon scum that lurked in the night. Yet, he couldn’t even do that much, could he?   

 

His head whips up at the sound of rustling branches, glassy eyes meeting with the bulging, blood-shot gaze of a creature.

 

“I knew I smelled a marechi,” it sneers, licking its lips with a too-long tongue, leaving its chin dribbling with saliva. “Lucky me! Lucky me!” Sick giggles spill from its gummy, frog-like mouth.

 

Despite its froggish face, it lumbered more like a beast of burden, limbs long and spindly like a deer with a thick, stocky body.

 

Truly, demons were hideous creatures. Unnatural wretches that bent the laws of nature. He remembers now why he had strayed from the road. This thing had been stalking him, waiting to get him alone.

 

Coward.

 

It sashays toward him, placing one leg after the other like a cat, head tipping back and forth drunkenly. Sanemi struggles to his feet, visibly shaking with fatigue and it titters like the gossips back at his village would when his mother passed.

 

“Oh, my! And he’s practically half-dead already! Tell me, little boy, do you realize how fortunate you are?”

 

Sanemi doesn’t deign to answer it, fumbling for one of the many sharp tools strapped to his back. The demon snickers at his struggles.

 

“You’ll finally be worth something! When your flesh and blood help me ascend to new heights! You’ll become apart of me, and together, we’ll please the master.”

 

Sanemi’s fingers stutter. The master?

 

Before he can really process that, the demon opens its wide mouth and points its tongue, forming a razor-sharp spear head. He dives to the right, tumbling into a crouched position just milliseconds before that tongue stabs into the ground where he once stood.

 

Sanemi reaches back again, firmly grabbing the first thing he can get his hands on; an iron rice sickle. His mind races.

 

Sickles, while deadly looking, made for a pretty limited weapon. It had virtually no piercing power, so stabbing was out of equation. They didn’t do well against armor either, but he didn’t see the glean of scales on the creature, so it should be fine. He could get some good slashes in if he angled it right.

 

The demon retracts its tongue, swallowing down the chunks of dirt and grass that had stuck to it. Its face scrunches with displeasure and it sighs, as if disappointed.

 

“You just don’t understand what an honor it is, do you? Oh well, I’ll play tag,” it slurs.  

 

It inhales, opening its maw, but this time, Sanemi is ready for it. He crouches and readjusts his grip on the sickle and shuffles in place. He jumps to the side as it comes out.

 

He miscalculates, swinging his arm out to try to lop off the tongue cleanly. The creature hadn’t been aiming to spear him like last time, however. Instead, it goes below where he expects it to be, then loops back around, snagging his arm in the loop.

 

“Shit-!”

 

It tightens and jerks his shoulder forward, and the sickle slips from his hand in his shock. The ends of the creature’s thin lips curve upward, and then he’s being yanked toward it. Sanemi tries to resist, dig his heels in and pull his arm free, but the demon pulls him forward with ease.

 

He grabs the tongue with his free hand, digging his nails into the slimy surface in an effort to pry it away, but it’s no use. Within seconds, he’s dragged in front of the demon, and it’s jaws are closing around his trapped arm.

 

Sanemi had initially thought the demon had no teeth, seeing only gums when it spoke. But as those lips close around Sanemi’s arm, he realizes it has thousands of tiny, sharp, hooklike teeth jutting out of its gums, barely visible even up close.

 

The ends of the hooks embed themselves in Sanemi’s flesh, pointing inwards so that every time he tried to desperately pull his arm out, it tore more and more of his skin away.

 

Its eyes roll back with pleasure as sweet, delicious marechi blood flows freely down its gullet. Sanemi zeroes in on the movement, and, in a moment of desperation, jabs his fingers into one of its eyes. When it cries out in pain, he shoves his fist further into its mouth to dislodge the teeth, and back-peddles as fast as he can.

 

The demon shrieks in rage, hands hovering over its burst eye, and Sanemi takes the opportunity to make a dive for his weapon. Blood flows freely from his arm, torn to hell, and it makes his movements even more sloppy, Sanemi nearly dropping the sickle again.

 

“Watch out!” An unfamiliar voice suddenly rings out.

 

Sanemi’s eyes widen as he turns and realizes the demon is mere inches away from him. He has less than a second to act, dropping to the ground on instinct alone as that razor sharp tongue stabs at the air just above his head.

 

The demon’s good eye widens, then narrows as it sees something just behind Sanemi. He doesn’t get the chance to glance behind before a dark blur is leaping over his prone body, something sharp and green whizzing through the air.

 

There’s a choked off scream, followed by a wet thunk as something heavy lands just beside him. He raises his head, wide eyes meeting with the demon’s fearful eye.

 

Its head… its head was on the ground, lying on its side, mouth gaping open in shock. Its tongue lolls, the tip of it beginning to fade to ash. But… that only happened when the sunlight touched them, right? He glances at the pitch-dark sky as the demon’s body collapses.

 

It’s then that Sanemi notices the other party; the thing the demon had been looking at, the voice that had called out to him.

 

A boy with a sword.

 

“Hey, are you okay?” said the boy with the sword. “Don’t worry, I got the demon’s head. Your arm’s really bleeding though. Here, apply pressure above the wound.” With his free hand, he tossed Sanemi a clean handkerchief.

 

Sanemi takes the opportunity to assess this new threat. He was pretty sure he was human, but that didn’t exactly soothe Sanemi’s worries. After all, the boy had a weapon, and Sanemi didn’t. A sword, no less, something that had been outlawed years ago.

 

He wore some kind of all-black military uniform with a stiff collar. Two claw-like scars carved over the apple of his cheek, just below his left eye. His black hair was slicked back, and, despite their dull color, his eyes were shining so bright.

 

“Do demons die when you cut off their head?” Sanemi asks, subtly shuffling further away from the boy. He needed to collect himself.

 

“You’re out here demon hunting and you don’t know that much? You’re lucky you’re still alive. But it’s a little more complicated than that.” He flicks the blood off his sword, returning it to its sheath and squatting in front of Sanemi, who freezes in place.

 

“That blood’s not stopping, huh? How about I bind that wound tight for you? Just make sure you get it looked at properly when you get the chance. Never know what kinda nasty surprises demons have,” the boy rambled as he rummaged through his pockets. He pulls out a proper roll of bandages. “Give me your arm.” He doesn’t really wait for Sanemi to do so, grabbing the appendage and deftly wrapping the wound. Sanemi barely flinches.

 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” The boy asks as he ties the ends of the bandage. “The dumb kid running around hunting demons even though he’s not a Demon Slayer. Everyone in the corps is talking about it. Why would you do that?” He looks up from his work, and Sanemi is struck by the sincerity in his eyes.

 

Sanemi looks away. “I’m gonna slaughter every last one of those hideous things.”

 

The boy seems unsurprised, lips tilting upwards as if he were thinking of some kind of inside joke.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

He pats Sanemi’s uninjured shoulder and stands up, offering a hand to the boy on the ground.

 

“I’ll introduce you to a Trainer. To kill every last demon, you’ll really need to build up your strength.”

 

And then he smiled, endless and sunshine-bright, it was enough to blind Sanemi even to his own suspicions.  

 

And that was how Sanemi Shinazugawa met the Demon Slayer Masachika Kumeno.

 

---

 

Sanemi hoisted Genya into his arms, the boy weakly holding onto his shoulders. He’s barely awake, eyes drooping groggily. His legs dangled haphazardly until Sanemi slid his free arm under the boy's knees, cradling him like a baby. The boy tucks his face against Sanemi’s neck and Sanemi shudders as his cold nose presses against his bare shoulder.

 

Fuck, he was so cold, so small and vulnerable, he feared the boy would crumble in his arms at the slightest movement.

 

Shinobu crosses the street to join them, gracefully stepping over the body of the unconscious man.

 

She stops just in front of the brothers, examining the boy as much as she could without moving him. She had a feeling trying to take Genya from Sanemi’s arms would only result in disaster.

 

“What are we gonna do with him?” Sanemi seethed, gesturing with his chin at the doctor.

 

Blood dribbles from his slack mouth from where Sanemi had knocked out his tooth. Sanemi feels only disgust as he looks at the vile man, and the memory of Genya’s swollen cheek and raw wrists only makes the hatred grow. His eyes dart toward his sword at his hip.

 

Shinobu, keen as always, catches the subtle movement.

 

“The killing of humans violates corps rules,” she chastises him.

 

“You can’t possibly call this filth human,” Sanemi sneers.

 

“We are not practitioners of justice when it comes to human crimes. This is best handled by the government and law enforcement.”

 

Sanemi scoffs incredulously.

 

“The police don’t give a shit about-”

 

“-people like you? A respectable member of society with quite a bit of wealth? Much more wealth than this small-time practitioner. While technically, the labor trade is legal, you’re his guardian, and he wasn’t the doctor’s to sell. Though my expertise lies more in medicine than law, I believe you could make a convincing case for assault or kidnapping.”

 

“So, what? So he can sit in a jail for a few years and then run free? A beast that preys on the weak, consumes the lives of the innocent for his own gain, is that not demonic?”

 

She hums, the question of what makes a human turning in her mind. But Sanemi is not looking for a philosophical debate, rage simmering hot and bubbling just under the surface of his skin, the man was fit to burst any second.

 

“The master will not allow it.”

 

“Better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Sanemi replies, darkly. He shifts Genya so that he is cradled in one arm, tucked against his chest. With his other hand, he flicks the hilt of his sword up, exposing the shiny, green and black blade, and Shinobu’s serene expression finally falls, frown creasing her lips. Her gaze drops, eyes catching on the hilt of her own sword as an epiphany dawns on her.

 

“There is more than one way to slay a demon,” she muses aloud, thumb running reverently up the hilt of her own sword. “Sunlight, beheading with a Nichirin blade, poison.”

 

He glares at her out of the corner of his eye, body still poised to draw his sword and end the pathetic life of the weasel sprawled before him.

 

“Your point?”

 

“If you were to face a demon without your blade… well, you would simply find another way, wouldn’t you? Similarly, there’s more than one way to break a man. Without breaking a single rule.”

 

Sanemi finally turns to give her his full attention; brows raised in interest. She’s smiling again, but her eyes are steely, the expression more conniving than comforting. The same realization seems to dawn on Sanemi as well and his eyes flick back toward the man, calculating. His hand leaves his hilt, tangling in Genya’s hair instead.

 

Shinobu claps her hands together, pleased.

 

“We should attend to Genya first. I want to take a look at the wounds on his feet and wrists myself, and this cold air can’t be good for his asthma.”

 

Sanemi grunts in acknowledgement.

 

“I’ll send a crow ahead to your estate.”

 

Shinobu’s eyes trail up the street, landing on Sanemi’s estate. “Or,” she chirps. “We could get him out of the cold sooner by using your estate.”

 

Sanemi stiffens. “But what about his wounds?”

 

“I know you have basic medical supplies, Shinazugawa. We all carry at least the essentials, and my top priority right now is getting Genya out of the cold.”

 

She corrals Sanemi toward the building, climbing the stone steps up to his estate as if she was invited. She critically eyes his garden, bare bones and mostly cleared out to make way for more training space. She’s even less impressed by the inside, barren except for the furniture its previous owner had left behind.

 

She politely toes off her shoes and sets them neatly aside, looking at Sanemi expectantly. Sanemi reluctantly leads them to his personal infirmary at Shinobu’s urging look, passing dozens of closed doors -- empty rooms made for guests he’ll never have.

 

“Now, you go and fetch me a first aid kit, and I’ll look Genya over.” She holds out her arms to receive the boy and Sanemi hesitates. They were in this situation because he had trusted someone else to care for Genya.

 

“He’s not safe with me, either,” he reminds himself. Shinobu surely wouldn’t let him out of her sight. “This time,” he thinks, bitterly.  

 

He slowly shifts to pass him on to her, but the movement causes Genya to stir, the boy’s arms wrapping tighter around his neck as his brows furrow unhappily. Sanemi feels his resolve shake, but the boy needed to be looked over. Who knew what that bastard had done to Genya? What if his injuries ran deeper than the surface?

 

He reaches a hand up, prying Genya’s arms from his neck, even as it causes the boy to whine and squirm, fully waking up. Shinobu watches with raised eyebrows as bleary violet eyes blink open. The panic comes soon after as it registers that Sanemi is trying to put him down.

 

Tears well up in the boy’s eyes as a shriek builds in his throat, his tiny hands trying in vain to bat away Sanemi’s much larger hands. His screams are incoherent, though Shinobu thinks she can make out the occasional “No!” from amongst the noise. Sanemi grabs Genya’s arms in one hand to stop him from wrapping them back around his neck and the boy snaps his jaws like a wild animal, teeth audibly clicking.

 

He lunges for Sanemi’s hand, and Sanemi lets go to avoid being bitten, and Genya takes the opportunity to attach himself back to Sanemi’s neck.

 

It’s almost comical, seeing a battle-hardened warrior like Sanemi struggle to wrangle a single child, were it not for the boy’s genuine distress. He fought to stay wrapped around Sanemi’s shoulders as if his life were dependent on it, pure adrenaline and fear and instinct fueling him.

 

She suspected it ran deeper than it appeared. This went beyond Sanemi leaving Genya behind once; this was years of trauma. As if the heart remembered what the mind had forgotten. Her very soul ached for the boy, the way he trembled like a leaf in the wind, shoulders shaking with sobs as he stuffed his face against Sanemi’s shoulder.

 

She clears her throat lightly.

 

“How about this, then. You get him situated with you on the table while I grab the first aid kit. You can sit him on your lap, and I’ll examine him from there,” She interjects.

 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Sanemi groans. He can feel tears and snot wetting the shoulder of his uniform, leaking against his bare neck. He shuffles toward the table, nonetheless. The sooner Genya received actual treatment, the sooner Sanemi could relax.

 

In the time it had taken him to complain and move, the woman had already retrieved a first aid kit, setting it on the counter and rifling through it.

 

She throws a reassuring smile over her shoulder at the boy.  

 

“Don’t worry, Genya-kun. Your Nii-chan won’t even leave your line of sight, okay?”

 

Genya hesitantly lifts his head and blinks at her shyly from beneath his teary lashes. “Promise?”

 

“I promise.”

 

“Oi! Don’t go making promises on my behalf!” Sanemi interjects. He respected Kocho, sure; she was Kanae’s little sister, after all. But there was only so much he would take.

 

Shinobu shoots him a weird look, wide-eyed and “innocent.”

 

“Oh? I apologize, Shinazugawa-san. I simply assumed… well, I suppose if you want to leave Genya-kun again…” She shrugs. “Surely Genya wouldn’t think to do anything drastic! I mean, he definitely doesn’t have a long history of self-endangerment.” Her voice drips with sarcasm and Sanemi’s eye twitches.

 

“Surely a Hashira can handle one child,” Sanemi snipes back.

 

She simply hums, turning back to the bag on the counter to pull out some disinfectant and a roll of bandages.

 

“If only there were a Hashira around who Genya trusted and wouldn’t run away from! Now, if you could set Genya in your lap?” She gestures with the roll bandages. The boy was still hanging from Sanemi’s neck like a little monkey, and she couldn’t exactly get a good look at the bruising on his face if it was stuffed against the man’s shoulder.

 

Sanemi grumbles but soothingly rubs his hand up and down Genya’s back.

 

“Gen? Hey, I need you to get down for a minute.”

 

Genya peers up at the sudden change in tone but vehemently shakes his head. Sanemi’s hand trails up to the back of his neck, massaging gently.

 

“I’m not gonna put you down, just gonna rearrange you a bit,” he says as he shuffles closer to the examination table, taking a seat on the edge. “See, it’s either you sit with me, or you sit alone, okay? Either way, you’re gonna let go, Genya,” his voice turns firm at the end.

 

Genya sticks out his bottom lip, brows creasing as he thinks over Sanemi’s words. After a long moment of silence, the arms around his neck hesitantly start to loosen. Sanemi adjusts his hold on him, turning him around and situating him firmly on his knee.

 

Genya seems reluctant to let go entirely, grabbing one of Sanemi’s hands in both of his. He pulls Sanemi’s arm across his lap, kicking his feet as he zeroes in on the large hand. It was so familiar… like, there was the scar on his finger from when the handle on the wheelbarrow had splintered in his hands. And there was the mole on his inner wrist, and he had the same curve to his knuckles. But at the same time, they were so different.

 

Sanemi always had callouses on his hands, from as early as Genya could remember, his big brother had been working until he bled for them. But now, they were thicker, rougher, covering every inch of his palm. Genya’s pudgy fingers fumbled as they wrapped around Sanemi’s long digits, marveling at how… big they were.

 

Genya had known, logically, that Sanemi was bigger than he was in his memories, had been warned about it beforehand, but now that he had a moment to slow down and process it…

 

He presses the bottom of his palm flat against Sanemi’s, just to compare the size of their hands. His fingers barely reached the bottom of Sanemi’s. Genya sucks in a breath, awed. Sanemi had always been huge to him, larger than life. But to actually see it, the difference between them…

 

So caught up in his exploring, he doesn’t even notice the eyes watching him.

 

Sanemi’s heart throbs in his chest, melancholic. Genya was so much tinier at this age than he remembered. Logically, he knew it was because their age gap was larger now, he knew it was the work of a blood demon art, that the Genya of this time was even taller than Sanemi.

 

How anyone could look at Genya and see a warrior, Sanemi could never quite fathom. Of course, Sanemi knew he was capable of fighting; even the most timid of rabbits would bite if push came to shove.  But Genya was made to nurture, he had seen it when they were young, how soft the boy had been.

 

He’s pulled from his musing when Shinobu crouches down until she’s just a little lower than Genya, gently tilting his leg forward so she could examine the soles of his feet.

 

She resists the urge to scoff. The bandage work was half-assed and rushed and Genya had already bled through the thin layer of bandaging. Glancing back up, she meets Sanemi’s eyes. He tried so hard to play the uncaring bystander, but she could feel the intense worry radiating off him.

 

“I’m gonna go ahead and take these off so I can see, okay. Can you keep him still?” She nods at Sanemi before turning back to Genya.

 

Untucking the edge of the bandage, she slowly begins to unwind it. Almost immediately, the boy flinches, whimpering and trying to jerk his foot away. Sanemi’s arms tighten around the boy’s waist.

 

“Shh, I know, baby. She’s gonna help it not hurt so much, you just gotta be strong for a sec, okay? Are you strong?” The words spill unbidden from Sanemi’s mouth, familiar. It reminded him so strongly of all the times after their father would leave, and Sanemi would be left to pick up the pieces in his wake.

 

“U-Uh-huh,” the boy nods quickly, sniffling and biting his lip to stifle his cries as much as he can.

 

It only gets worse as she gets to the bottom layer of bandages, crusted blood and fluid peeling from the burst blisters. Fresh blood bubbled from the wounds as they’re agitated again, and Shinobu hisses at what she finds.

 

The doctor hadn’t made an effort to clean out the wounds at all; his feet were still caked in dirt and there was even a pebble wedged in one of the wounds. It looked like one large blister on the ball of his left foot had ruptured and a smaller one on the side of his heel on the right foot. Overall, it could have been a lot worse.

 

“Alright, this will sting a bit, but I’ve got to wash all this nasty gunk out of your ouchies, okay?”

 

Genya nods. Other than a slight wobble to his bottom lip, he’s being very brave for a child of his age. She grabs the disinfectant, a simple saline solution that hopefully wouldn’t irritate him too much. She washes the dirt out, using a pair of tweezers to pull the rock out. Once that was done, she carefully patted it dry and rewrapped it, tight and neat.

 

“There we go! Now, lets see those hands, alright?”

 

From what she’d seen, they were just rubbed a little raw, but she wanted to make sure he didn’t have any rope burn. He gives her one of his arms, the other still clutching onto Sanemi’s hand. 

 

She turns his hand over, checking his wrists, confirming exactly what she’d thought. A first-degree abrasion, but nothing to be concerned about; a little washing and he’d be on his way. All that was left was the swelling on his face.

 

She leans up, cupping the boy’s uninjured cheek and coaxing him into turning his head so she could see. He’d have some nasty bruising over his cheek bone, but the actual bone structure seemed intact. No damage to the orbital sockets and he had a split lip.

 

She glances up when Sanemi cranes his head to look as well. He raises a wispy, white eyebrow.

 

“Keep his feet dry and covered and get some ice for the swelling. I’m more worried about him catching something, either an infection or a cold. His body is already preoccupied with fighting off the blood demon art; getting sick right now could be,” her eyes dart toward Genya, who stares up at her curiously. “…it could complicate things.”

 

Sanemi’s mouth flattens into a grim line. Genya had never handled sickness well, even before he had been hit by a blood demon art.

 

“Why’re you telling me,” he grumbles, words falling on deaf ears. Even he knew that this was a losing battle. He could feel his resolve wavering, shattering under the almost non-existent weight of the boy in his lap.

 

What was he supposed to do? Loathe as he was to admit it, Shinobu was right. He couldn’t leave Genya in the hands of someone outside the demon slayer corps; what would they say when the child shot up a good four feet in the span of a few weeks?

 

Shinobu was really his best bet, but Genya had already escaped on her watch. As both a Hashira and the head of the medical division, she was far too busy to keep a constant watch on Genya.

 

A kakushi, maybe?

 

He didn’t know a single kakushi he would trust with Genya’s life over Shinobu.

 

“Because you’re his guardian,” Shinobu sits back on her heels, raising a perfect eyebrow. Everything about her was so… manicured. From her delicate touches of makeup to her evenly schooled expressions. “You have been from the start.”

 

Sanemi scoffs, a soft “tch” as he flicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He looks anywhere but at her, at him, restlessly tapping his foot as the images play behind his eyelids anyways.

 

Rope burns, blisters, bloodied lips.

 

“Nii-chan?” The boy twists in Sanemi’s lap, leaning back slightly so he can see Sanemi’s face. He knew that sound and he knew that expression too. The same defiant look he’d get when he was holding something back. The same somethings that he wouldn’t share with Genya because he was the oldest.

 

Both adults look at him, almost as if they had forgotten he was there in their silent battle of wills. Sanemi zeroes in on his swollen cheek, dark color starting to bloom across his chubby face like the most horrific painting, the way his eye couldn’t fully open. His stomach rolls, and his queasiness must show on his face, because Genya’s frown deepens, bottom lip sticking out in a thoughtful pout as he looks at Sanemi. He clutches Sanemi’s wrist closer, hugging it to his body.

 

“Is Nii-chan okay?”

 

Sanemi itches to tear a demon apart. To go back outside and stomp on that fucking sham of a doctor’s head until even his mother couldn’t identify him. Instead, he exhales, forcing himself to look indifferent. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was that young children looked to others for how they should feel. If he looked calm, then Genya would feel calm.

 

He goes to pet Genya’s hair, smoothing it down, uncaring of the mud crusted in the strands or of the dirt that flakes off to the floor with the motion. He’d need a bath for sure. Sanemi eyes the large doctor’s coat tied precariously over Genya’s body. He’d need new clothing too.

 

He wasn’t seriously considering this, was he? But who else was there? Someone strong, reliable, wise…

 

“What about Himejima?” He suddenly asks. Why hadn’t he thought of him sooner?

 

Shinobu finishes cleaning up the medical supplies, neatly putting away the first aid kit from where she found it.

 

“What about Himejima?” She asks, turning to face him.

 

“That’s where Genya’s been staying, right? And he knows how to handle kids, likes cute things, or whatever,” Sanemi absentmindedly scratches Genya’s scalp in that way that used to make the boy melt when they were kids.

 

Shinobu eyes him warily. She almost couldn’t believe the man was still trying to pass this on to someone else, was still running.

 

“Himejima is currently on a mission from the master, and he’s unlikely to be back anytime soon.”

 

Sanemi grunts in acknowledgement, staring down at Genya as the words go in one ear and out the other. He respected Himejima, though he would admit there was a part of Sanemi that resented the man for taking Genya in, for letting him stay in the corps. But if anyone could protect him…

 

“This is temporary. Just until Himejima returns.”

 

Genya tilts his head, lost. Who was this Himejima guy?

 

Shinobu can feel the irritation bubbling beneath her skin as she reminds herself; only the immature allowed themselves to react in anger. So, she takes a deep breath and nods.

 

“Okay. But in the meantime, you’ll need to be updated on his care plan. I wrote it all down, but you should know that he’ll need a very specialized diet and routine physicals. I also mixed up some multivitamins for him that I want him to take with breakfast and dinner. I trust you at least know the basics of caring for a child?”

 

“Of course I do!” Sanemi snaps. He’d practically raised Genya from a baby himself.

 

“Good! Then you know that what you have now isn’t going to cut it,” Shinobu looks around the mostly barren “medical office” with disdain. “I’ll go retrieve supplies from my estate while you get him washed up. I’d also recommend getting some food in his belly soon; he didn’t exactly pack a meal before he went careening into the forest.”

 

As if to emphasize Shinobu’s point, Genya’s tummy grumbles. Genya gasps, cheeks reddening as he looks wide eyed down at his own stomach like it had betrayed him.

 

“Shhh!” Genya hisses.

 

“You’ll want to give him a similar diet to your own, high calorie, high protein. His body is burning a lot of energy,” Shinobu giggles at the boy’s antics. “Now, I’ll be back within the hour.”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sanemi grumbles, half-heartedly. Of course, he still had every intention of getting Genya cleaned up and fed, it just grated to be told what to do as if he couldn’t figure that out himself.

 

Shinobu brushes him off as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

 

“I’ll see you soon, Genya-chan!” With that, she disappears around the door. Sanemi can feel Genya’s eyes burning a hole in his chin as an awkward silence hangs in her wake.

 

He looks down, meeting his gaze with a grimace. The doctor’s robe he was wearing was barely hanging on, stuck more by dried mud than the sloppy tie at the front. It was even in his hair, causing it to spike and stick up in odd ways.

 

Right. They’d start with the bath then.

 

---

 

Sanemi goes to set Genya down on a bath stool, forgetting the boy’s almost leech-like behavior. He bends down, situating the boy’s bottom on the stool, only to realize the child was still hanging from his neck, clinging as hard as he can. Sanemi pauses in place, awkwardly hunched over.

 

“Genya, I need you to let go,” he sighs.

 

“No!”

 

“I’m just going to run some warm water for you so we can get you washed up. I’ll literally be just across the room.”

 

“Nuh uh!”

 

“Yeah huh,” Sanemi huffs. He didn’t exactly forget how stubborn Genya could be—hell, he couldn’t get the dumb kid to quit the corps even as a teen—but that didn’t make it any less frustrating to deal with. “You’ll be able to see me the entire time.”

 

Rather than answer verbally, the boy swings his legs up, clamping his thighs on either side of Sanemi’s chest, wrapping himself like a koala around Sanemi’s torso. Sanemi can feel his patience reaching its end. Maybe once upon a time, when they were younger, before Sanemi had learned what cruelty as a kindness truly meant, he would have been able to reassure Genya with soft words and a kind smile.

 

Instead, Sanemi finds himself grasping the boy’s wrists and pulling them apart with iron strength.

 

“Genya,” he snaps. “If you don’t stop acting like a brat, then-” he pauses. It’s not like Genya had anything to take away, and the idea of striking Genya in any way, shape, or form was simply too much to bear. (Sure, he would do anything to protect Genya, but he’d have to be driven to a new extreme to even contemplate physically attacking him.)

 

“I’ll drop you back off at Shinobu’s right now and leave you there.”

 

An empty threat, but it was the only thing he could think of in that moment.

 

Genya abruptly stops struggling, wide eyes fixed on his face, searching for any shred of evidence that he was lying. Sanemi stares the boy down with the same unwavering fierceness he would face demons with.

 

Genya’s bottom lip trembles but his arms go limp in his hold, legs unclamping from his sides. Sanemi situates him back on the stool, taking a step back and sighing with relief when the boy doesn’t make an effort to cling onto him again.

 

“I’ll be right back,” he grumbles, turning his back and pretending to not have seen the fat tears welling in Genya’s eyes.

 

It would only take a minute for the water to heat up, a modern marvel that Sanemi had splurged on to have installed in his home. He crouches by the tub, running the faucet over his hand until he’s satisfied with the temperature. Flicking the water off his hand, he glances over his shoulder, eyes locking with Genya’s.

 

Genya chokes back a pathetic hiccup, slapping his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound as much as possible. His fingers press down over his nose as his palms cover his mouth, cutting off his airways in an attempt to force himself to be quiet.

 

The same way he used to do when he didn’t want Kyogo to hear him.

 

Sanemi’s eyes widen, breath catching as he turns back to the water. Disapproving violet eyes stare back at him, set in a youthful face, free of scars. His younger self glares up at him.

 

If he’d been ten years younger he would have easily been able to quell Genya’s fears. He would have apologized as soon as he even caught a hint of those tears. He wasn’t the same person he was all those years ago; he had been sharpened into nothing more than a weapon. One that cut down friend and foe, albeit in different ways.

 

But Genya needed a brother.

 

He reaches for the image, as if he could simply pull the boy out of the water, as if he could pull that person out of himself.

 

Warm water engulfs his fingers and the image distorts, ripples destroying the picture in a wave of chaos. And within the small waves, he sees something dark, something large and cruel. He abruptly snatches his hand back, holding it to his chest as he exhales shakily.

 

“I lied.”

 

A small rustle and then the feeling of eyes on him.

 

“I’m not gonna take you back there. I just…”

 

He finally brings himself to look at the boy again. The worst of his crying has paused, stilled by his own curiosity. Sanemi puffs out another sigh.

 

“I just needed you to listen. If you can do that for me, I won’t… I won’t say that again, okay?”

 

Genya nods slowly, as if any sudden movement could set Sanemi off. He braces his hands on the edge of the tub, pushing himself up. Genya follows his movements with his eyes, even as he scrubs his hands over his cheeks to wipe away the tears, smearing the mud even more.

 

Sanemi unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way, shrugging off his haori and tossing it to the side. They’d need to be washed, covered in mud and snot.

 

“Alright, let’s get you ready for a bath. Lift your arms for me,” he brushes a hand through his unruly hair, feeling oddly raw. Genya does as he’s told and Sanemi crouches next to him, helping him out of the doctor’s robe.

 

He tosses it away with disgust, then lets the boy shimmy out of his underwear while he grabbed a bucket. He digs through his small collection of soaps and oils, grabbing some shampoo and hair oil, a bar of soap, and a wash rag.

 

Genya watches him, a question in his eyes. It was way more than they’d had as kids; back then they could only afford the body soaps provided by the bath house. Never would they have imagined having separate soaps for their hair, much less fancy oils.

 

Sanemi waits for the inevitable stream of questions, but Genya just sits silently. The white-haired man’s lips tug downward; Genya was holding himself back to be “good.” So, he decides to extend the olive branch.

 

“It’s called shampoo. It’ll make your hair super clean but kinda dry. So, we’re gonna add some oil to make it shiny too.”

 

“Sh-sham…pooo?” Genya sounds out the word, drawing out the last syllable.

 

“It’s a foreign word. I got it as a gift from some rich folk,” he snorts. “Not sure if they were tryna say my hair looked like shit or what, but it works.”

 

He kneels in front of Genya, surprised by how easy it is to muster a smile.

 

“Here, smell it,” he states, unscrewing the cap. He holds it under Genya’s nose, who immediately leans in and gives a big sniff.

 

“It smells sweet! Like fruit!” He gasps, looking up at Sanemi for confirmation. “Can I eat it?”

 

Sanemi snorts, a “no” on the tip of his tongue. But he stops himself, his smile turning a bit wolfish.

 

“Sure, why not. Give it a big ol’ taste.”

 

Genya brightens, his earlier tears long forgotten in the face of this exciting development. He eagerly dips his fingers into the bottle, stuffing them in his mouth with all the trust in the world.

 

His face crumples.

 

“Blegh!!!” He gags, turning and dramatically spitting it out. Sanemi’s shoulders shake with mirth, desperately trying to suppress his laughter, but the look of honest betrayal on his face is enough to break him.

 

“Nemi!” He whines, and Sanemi sits back on his ass and cackles. “You tricked me!!!”

 

“I never said it tasted good!” Sanemi gets out around his laughter. The boy tries to pout at him, puffing out his cheeks, but he looks more relieved than anything, the tension temporarily dispelled.

 

Sanemi composes himself, waving a hand at the boy. “Alright, alright, turn around now. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

Genya huffs, but spins on the stool, presenting Sanemi with his muddy back. He wets the boy’s hair a bit, dumping about a third of the bucket of warm water over him. Then, he squeezes out a dollop of soap, lathering it between his hands and before massaging it against the boy’s scalp.

 

It was so easy that it was hard; slipping into that big brother’s role was like wearing old skin. Familiar, easy to put on, but much too small now, tight and smothering. Every movement tore it at the seams, letting fresh blood flow from old wounds.

 

His hands shook as he grabbed the small bucket again. With one hand, he reaches around Genya, shielding his eyes as he uses the other to dump the warm water over his head. Genya shakes his head like a wet dog, pushing his hair up.

 

He grabs the oil next, pouring out just a tiny amount and then massaging that into Genya’s hair as well. Even now, he could tell the difference, the hair turning silky beneath his fingers. He dips the bucket into the warm water to refill it and rinses off his hands.

 

“Hold out your arms,” he mumbles, grabbing a wash rag from nearby. He lathers it in soap, and suds bubbled over his fingers.

 

Every time he closed his eyes, their surroundings blurred, shifting from his opulent personal bathhouse to the shitty public bathhouse of his youth.

 

His skin prickles, itching with the need to blow off some steam. Normally, when the memories crept up on him like this, he would train until he physically couldn’t think anymore. But he couldn’t do that now.

 

Genya needed him.

 

He grips Genya’s wrist, and his heart thuds in his ears when he’s forced to face how small it is in his hand. He bites his lip hard enough to break skin, focusing as best he can on scrubbing off the mud caked to the boy’s skin. He makes sure to get between his fingers, even scrubbing beneath his nails, then moves to the other arm.

 

Genya tilts his head back to peer at Sanemi over his shoulder. Why did his brother look so… stiff? Bath time was… fun, right? They were just laughing together, weren’t they?

 

Hazy memories of his Nii-chan chasing him about the sento bath house, feet skidding on slippery tile as shrill laughter echoes off the walls. The adults roll their eyes but ignore their antics; more amused than truly annoyed. Memories of splashing each other with warm water, of cupping their hands together to make water shoot from between their palms.

 

He stares down at the fancy tile beneath his feet. A specific memory comes to mind, so faded and worn that Genya wondered if it were even real. Genya had been even younger than now, and even fussier than usual that day. Sanemi had simply sat him on his knee and hummed.

 

His voice had been so pretty. Rough around the edges, but beautiful in an unrefined, untamable way. It had settled Genya almost instantly, drawing him in. He wondered if he could do the same for Sanemi…

 

Genya blows out a breath, bemused. It dislodges a bit of suds, a bubble floating in the air in front of him. Genya’s eyes catch on it, shining with wonder. Shabondama! Of course! The bubble song!! He lifts a hand, fingers outstretched for the wayward bubble. He inhales.

 

“Shabondama tonda,” Genya warbles at the top of his lungs. “Yane made tonda, yane made tonde kowarete kieta!”

 

The wash rag slows to a stop on his back and Genya glances back to find Sanemi staring at him like he grew a second head. Genya giggles at his confused expression.

 

“Shabondama kieta, tobazu ni kieta, umarete sugu ni kowarete kieta!” He belts out leaning back and staring at Sanemi expectantly, waiting for him to finish the song.

 

Sanemi relents, after a long moment, sighing and tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling.

 

“Kaze, kaze, fuku na, shabondama tobaso,” he sings, and his voice is just as wild as Genya remembered, if not deeper and richer.

 

Sanemi wondered if Genya even knew what the song was about, or if he thought it was really just about soap bubbles in the wind.* If he knew the truth, of the song and of his own life, would he sing it so carelessly?

 

Nonetheless, Genya claps enthusiastically at his performance, kicking his feet and cheering. He chants the song again, rocking back and forth to the imaginary rhythm. Sanemi huffs to hide the soft chuckle that bubbles up in his chest.

 

“I love sleeping! Because then, I don’t get hungry!” All said with a smile so bright, it was clear he didn’t understand how horrifying his statement really was to Sanemi.

 

Genya always did have a way of finding joy in the morbid, whether he realized it or not. He readjusts the washrag, giving it less of a death grip as he resumes his scrubbing. His voice joins Genya’s childish song, rough and unpracticed. It’s not like he had much reason to sing nowadays.

 

He finishes up with Genya’s back and looks the boy over for any more spots of mud, nodding with approval when he finds none. He grabs the bucket, filling it with steamy, warm water, and gently pouring it over the boy’s body.

 

“Say ‘Bye-bye Shabondama!’” Sanemi finds himself saying without really thinking. Genya gasps and leans over the side of the stool to watch the bubbles slide down the drain.

 

“Bye-bye Shabondama!” He exclaims. He giggles, then squeals when the world suddenly goes dark and muffled all around him. It took him perhaps a moment too long to realize that Sanemi had thrown a towel over his head, and that he did not, in fact, go blind.

 

“Nooo!” He whines, struggling half-heartedly as Sanemi gruffly towels him off, swiftly and efficiently wrapping it around the boy, trapping his arms to his sides as he’s swaddled. He kicks his little legs in defiance, but he can’t stop himself from laughing when the man throws him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

 

It’s from up here that Genya realizes how high up he is. Sanemi was so tall! He bets no one ever messes with Sanemi now that he’s 10 feet tall! A few moments later, he’s deposited on top of a futon, flopping ungracefully onto his side.

 

Sanemi turns his back on him, padding over to a nearby wardrobe. When he opens it, Genya can see it’s stuffed with more of the exact same outfit he was wearing now, those fancy officer’s clothes.

 

Was this?

 

Was this Sanemi’s room?

 

Genya’s eyes widen. Did Sanemi have his own room?!

 

Genya writhes about in his fluffy towel prison until he’s able to free one arm, planting it under him so he can push himself up into a sitting position. He only saw one futon… and it smelled just like Nii-chan did! But… this room was huge for just one person!

 

A primal, little sibling urge rises in his chest. He needed to get into everything.

 

He glances back at Sanemi, who’s grumbling and digging through the recesses of his wardrobe. Genya struggles to free his other arm, standing up and scampering over to the nearest object of interest, a sword display.

 

He reaches for it, eyes sparkling. Oh, the games he could play if only he’d had a real sword!

 

“Don’t even think about it,” Sanemi snaps. Genya gasps and whirls around, only to find that Sanemi hadn’t even looked away from the wardrobe.

 

Huh.

 

He reaches again for the swords, eyeing Sanemi curiously.

 

“Genya,” the man warns.

 

Did he… did he have eyes… on the back of his head…?

 

He narrows his eyes, squinting at the back of Sanemi’s head. There was too much fluffy, white hair there for him to tell if he had eyes back there. He makes a face, sticking out his tongue petulantly.

 

“I know you’re being a brat over there, sit back down.”

 

Genya scurries back over to the futon just as Sanemi finally turns around, holding up-

 

Genya’s eyes widen.

 

That was-

 

“It’s all I’ve got that comes anywhere close to fitting you. Sorry,” he grumbles, feeling oddly embarrassed as he holds out the white and light blue outfit from his youth. He hoped the boy didn’t notice the faint blood stains on the collar. All the demon blood had flaked off under the sunlight, but his own blood…

 

He’d had the rips and tears repaired, perhaps out of a sense of nostalgia. He… hadn’t taken anything with him when he’d left that day, nothing but the clothes on his back and the knife in his hand. It was the only thing he had left that his baby siblings had ever even touched.

 

“I know it’s a bit too big, but if I tie it around the waist it… should…” he trails off as he notices the look on Genya’s face. Like he’d seen a ghost, he was pale as a sheet. It’s then that Sanemi remembers that this wasn’t just the outfit he’d left with, but also the clothes he’d-

 

“Murderer! Murderer!”

 

He inhales sharply, turning around and stuffing it back in his wardrobe. What was he thinking? Bringing out that?! He grabs the other option instead; his very first uniform since joining the corps, back when he was just some scrawny pre-teen.

 

It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable option—the outer material was itchy, trading softness for sturdiness. Not to mention the collar was stiff and stifling, which was a big reason why he wore his unbuttoned.

 

He presents it instead, but Genya is looking right through him, trembling hand resting over his unmarred cheek. The same cheek that bore the scar left from that night in the present.

 

No, no, no, no.

 

“L-look, Genya!” He snaps, harsher than he expected. The boy’s eyes snap toward his, clouded with confusion and something else, as if he were just on the edge of an epiphany.

 

“Don’t you wanna match with Nemi?” He pleads more than asks. He pushes the uniform closer, thrusting it into the boy’s space. Genya stares at it a little blankly, and Sanemi can feel his own breathing beginning to speed up.

 

Not now, please not now.

 

“Y-yeah,” Genya nods, shaking off his stupor. His head hurt, but the idea of matching with Sanemi was more exciting than his head hurting. He makes grabby hands for the outfit, forcing a smile to his face, even as his heart thuds nervously. For a second there… he thought-

 

Sanemi’s posture relaxes slightly, and he kneels beside the boy, helps the boy into the jacket, which hangs off of him like a dress. He didn’t bother with the pants, retrieving some fundoshi instead and calling that good enough.

 

He pauses as Genya’s mouth opens in a mighty yawn, flashing his tiny canines as he rubs blearily at his eyes. The action is so small, young, and precious, a sharp contrast to earlier.

 

“’M tired,” The boy mumbles, as if Sanemi couldn’t tell by just looking at him.

 

“We still need to eat dinner.”

 

Shit, right.

 

He didn’t… not have food, he just preferred to either skip his meals or eat at the local restaurants. But without proper clothes to wear out, they were gonna have to stay inside for the night and-

 

Cook.

 

His mother had taught him how, of course. Long ago, he was the one to help their mother put food upon the table. But then, Genya had grown and more children had come and money had been tighter than ever. Genya had stepped up and shouldered the burden of helping cook and care for the young ones while he had worked tirelessly. But he could still prepare at least a simple meal-

 

“But I’m tired!” The boy suddenly shouts, kitten-like eyes alight with the typical childlike frustration that came with exhaustion. He puffs his cheeks and balls his fists, baring his metaphorical teeth. “And I won’t be hungry when I sleep!”

 

Sanemi grimaces, wallowing pathetically in his mind as melancholy licked at his heels. “I said you need to eat, remember what I said about listening to Nemi?”

 

Genya’s kitten claws retract, and he sulks, bite abruptly taken from him.

 

“Okay…” he mewls.

 

Sanemi hoists Genya into his arms, tiredness and dread swirling in his chest. Was taking care of kids always this exhausting? He tries to remember, vaguely dredging up the long, sleepless nights of Genya’s infancy. But the second he’d been “old enough”, he’d stepped up, helping Sanemi shoulder the burden of caring for their family. Genya had always been different from their other siblings, Genya had been the one he had let in. The one he'd promised to protect the family with. 

 

Guilt rolls his stomach. He hadn’t had much choice back then, but he wished he hadn’t had to rely on Genya so much back then.

 

He steps into the kitchen, mentally crossing his fingers that he had more than just unflavored rice and dried meat.

Notes:

I hope you all enjoyed!!! I've already started on some scenes that are coming down the line, but just a heads up, I will be alternating between this story and Sunlit Scales! So expect an update to Sunlit soon! That being said, I really appreciate everyone's comments and encouragements! I've gotten bad about responding lately but please know I do read them and they give me lots of motivation to keep going! So thank you!!!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Breathless