Chapter Text
The first thing Genya could do was flinch, as like an arrow loosed from the bowstring, the Wind Hashira shot across the room to his bedside. The second thing he could do was feel a deep and sudden shame as he remembered he was currently a demon.
f*ck. The only thing Sanemi hated more than Genya was demons.
Sanemi’s scarred hand rose above the blankets, his crazed, unblinking eyes shadowed behind his ivory hair not breaking away from Genya for an instant. Genya clenched his teeth, bracing himself for the strike that would inevitably come. A punch or a backfist or a chop to the throat, or maybe he’d finish what he’d tried to do back at the Wind Estate and blind Genya for good. He closed his eyes, preparing for his brother’s righteous justice.
But it never came. Instead, the hand landed lightly on his shoulder, then hovered above his chest and ribs as if unsure of what to do, as if Genya’s frame was a delicate instrument that could splinter at the slightest touch. Genya blinked in surprise, then registered the torrent of noise his brother was making as individual words.
“You’re okay! Thank f*ck you’re okay! How do you feel, does it hurt anywhere? Are you still bleeding? Do you have any idea how bad you scared me, you little sh*t? AUGH, I can’t believe it! You’re okay!”
Tears were forming in the corners of his wide eyes now, pooling on his lashes and beginning to streak down the sides of his face.
“What were you thinking, fighting Upper Moon One?!”
“I-I…” Genya choked, still too bewildered to fully process that Sanemi wasn’t trying to kill him. “I’m sorry, I…”
It was coming back to him now, the conversation they’d had as Genya lay dying and dissolving on the ground. Sanemi… had cried for him. He’d begged him to stay alive. He’d told him he’d never been a burden. He didn’t hate Genya after all. Genya bit his lip, shame welling in his gut.
“I’m sorry I was weak.”
Sanemi froze.
“What the hell are you talking about now?”
Genya took the edge of the blanket in his hands, bunching it in tight fists as he looked away from his brother’s gaze. Sanemi continued.
“Weak? You came face to face with one of the strongest demons in the world and helped us kick his ass. You held your ground even when you were in pieces. You shot those magic bullets at him and turned him into a f*cking tree, twice.”
Sanemi poked a finger into Genya’s chest. It hurt a little, but he knew Sanemi didn’t mean for it to.
“And even when you were dying, you regrew your f*ckin’ head and you came back.”
Sanemi’s voice cracked.
“You came back.”
Sanemi wrapped him in a tight hug. Genya grunted in pain as this hurt even more than the finger jab, but after a moment, the pressure felt nice, like Sanemi’s arms were pushing the severed halves of him back together again. He wrapped his own arms around his brother, and the two remained that way for a long moment, both pretending their eyes were dry even as their shoulders trembled with pent-up sobs.
Eventually, Sanemi pulled away. He pointed an accusatory finger to Genya’s sternum.
“I don’t ever want to hear you calling yourself weak again, do you understand?”
“But,” Genya protested, “I was hardly any help at all during that fight, and I barely made it out alive. Now, Yushiro says I only have a couple months after eating demon flesh before I start dying again.”
Sanemi turned to Yushiro, perhaps noticing him for the first time. His eyes widened in recognition and realization. The demon had been watching the brother’s reunion from a distance, silently gathering his things in his black bag as he prepared to leave. Genya had a suspicion the demon partly enjoyed the drama and was delaying his departure just to see what happened.
“It’s true.” Yushiro bowed his head to the Hashira. “But don’t worry, your brother and I already worked out our arrangement. I’ll keep him alive for as long as I can.”
Sanemi turned to him fully. Before Genya or Yushiro could react, he dropped to his knees and prostrated himself in a deep bow to the demon, forehead pressed against the wood floor.
“I can’t thank you enough. You saved the most important thing in the world to me. Name your price. Anything you want, I’ll pay it tenfold.”
Yushiro blinked in shock for a moment, before his dropped jaw twisted upward in a weary smirk.
“You humans are all so dramatic.” He laughed, gathering his bag under his arm. “I meant what I said, this is my choice just as much as it is Genya’s.”
He paused at the threshold, then turned around to look at the Shinazugawa brothers.
“Continuing Lady Tamayo’s legacy is all that matters to me now. Take care, Genya. Don’t go dying before I can visit you again.”
With that, Yushiro turned and left. Sanemi sat back up on his heels, looked toward the door, then back at Genya. He laughed.
“He’s f*ckin’ weird. I like him.”
Genya couldn’t help but agree. He owed Yushiro a lot.
“So how do you feel?”
“Alright,” Genya winced. It was a lie, and Sanemi could tell, but he didn’t press it.
“You’re a demon right now.” Sanemi said. That pit of shame inside Genya’s stomach grew deeper.
“Yushiro gave me his hand.” He mumbled, looking down as he prayed Sanemi wouldn’t fly into a rage about this. “To help me get better.”
“His hand?” Sanemi’s scarred face twisted in bemusem*nt, but underneath, was that a smile? Genya couldn’t be sure.
“That’s nasty. What’d it taste like?”
“Um, it tasted gross? What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Sanemi raised his hands defensively. “I’m just trying to take an interest in my brother’s hobbies.”
“It’s not a hobby!” Genya flushed, “I don’t go out eating demons for fun!”
“Right, right, it’s a lifestyle choice, whatever.” Sanemi waved a hand in a circular motion as he rolled his eyes.
Genya huffed in annoyed mirth, then quieted.
“...Nemi, you’re sure you’re not mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?”
Genya shuffled uncomfortably in his bed.
“Back when mom… turned… I blamed you. I said all those awful things. Then I followed you into the Demon Slayer Corps even though you told me to stay away. Then, in the Infinity Castle…”
Sanemi closed his eyes, then took a breath.
“Can’t lie, you put me through some sh*t. I worried about you all the time. But listen, I meant what I said. You’ve never been a burden to me, not once. You’re here now. You’re alive.”
Sanemi reached a hand out to Genya’s head, ruffling his mohawk. He smiled, the kindness on his face blinding even in the darkness.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
The grip in his hair tightened. Genya winced, then practically cowered as a dangerous glint came into Sanemi’s eyes.
“So long as you never f*cking scare me like that again.”
“Okay, okay!” Genya squawked as Sanemi tugged at his hair in vengeful retribution, “I promise, let go, let go!”
Genya shoved Sanemi away and covered his head with a pillow to prevent him from accessing his mohawk again. Sanemi snatched a pillow from a vacant bed, lightly thrashing his brother with it while making him promise over and over again. Tears pricked in Genya’s eyes, though not from any pain, no. He grinned ear-to-ear, and laughed even as Sanemi pummeled him with the pillow.
Finally. He had his brother back.
_____
Aoi came in to check on him later that morning, delighted to see him up and alert.
“You’re finally awake!” She cheered, “We’ll have to celebrate! What’s your favorite food?”
“O-oh, no,” Genya reddened, “Please, I don’t need anything special.”
“He likes watermelon.” Sanemi said casually from his reclined position in the chair next to Genya’s bed. Genya paled in an instant, turning to shoot his brother a betrayed glare. Sanemi didn’t seem to notice or care, but a slight smirk came to the corners of his mouth.
“Perfect!” Aoi smiled, clapping her hands together. “The girls will pick one up from the market later today then. In the meantime, let’s change your bandages now that you’re up. It’s awfully difficult to do when someone is unconscious.”
He turned out to not need new bandages, as his demon transformation had sealed the wound completely. He ran his hands along the smooth scar, starting at his hairline and moving all the way over his nose and down to his chin. He swallowed thickly. This wasn’t even a tenth of the total damage.
Genya was no stranger to scars. They littered his body like flowers in a graveyard, and each one told a different story. But this one… this one was different. It didn’t stop. It covered him completely, circling through his mohawk, down his back, up his chest, and everywhere in between. He could feel it pressing deep into his tissue in places, as the bone and organs below had thickened with scar and breakage too.
His body was permanently changed.
His hand trembled above the smooth, cold skin. This was the scar that was supposed to end his story.
And it still could be, he thought, pressing his fingers into the flesh of the scar. It was thin and much more fragile than his other scars, like it was only just barely holding the skin together instead of sealing the wound completely. He got the feeling that if he pressed into it too hard, the tissue would bruise and tear.
Yushiro was right. This body wouldn’t last forever.
Still, Genya wasn’t completely hopeless, and Yushiro’s demon flesh had helped him feel a lot better. He managed to get out of bed and take a few shaky steps around the house, and that evening he, Sanemi, and the butterfly sisters ate a delicious dinner of rice balls and baked fish out in the courtyard. Halfway through the meal the three young girls excitedly presented Genya with a plate of sliced watermelon.
“Eat as much as you’d like, okay?” The girl with the blue hair clips said. Genya thought her name was Sumi, just like his own little sister, but he wasn’t sure.
“Naho carried it back all by herself, just for you!” The one with the red hair clips said, nodding to the girl with green clips in her braids.
Naho smiled and closed her eyes, putting her hands on her hips proudly. Genya smiled. It reminded him of the way his own brothers and sisters would brag to him and Sanemi after doing something difficult.
“Wow, really?” Genya said, “Thank you very much, Naho. You must be very strong.”
“It was easy.” Naho waved in a way that told Genya she was living for the praise, “Just wait. Me and Sumi and Kiyo are all going to get really strong one day, so that we can carry on the tradition of all the slayers that came before us.”
“You’re going to train them as slayers?” Sanemi tilted his head, looking to Aoi. “Why? The demons are all destroyed.”
“Right,” Aoi shook her head, “But Kanao and I were talking. We want to keep the legacy of our sisters alive. Their sword skills were just as much a part of that as their medical research, weren't they? There aren’t any more demons, but it seems a shame to let the art die out. Besides, it’s not like demons were the only danger in the world. I’d like them to be able to protect themselves.”
“Hmmm…” Sanemi nodded slowly. “You have a point. You know, I’ve never had a tsugoku. Let me know if any of them ever want to give wind breathing a try.”
“Really?” Aoi blinked, her blue eyes wide in surprise. “Thank you, Shinazugawa-san. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Genya took a bite out of the melon. It was sweet and cold and burst in his mouth as he crushed the red fruit between his teeth. He looked at the three little butterfly sisters talking and laughing amongst themselves, at the spark of enthusiasm in Aoi’s eye as Sanemi approved of her plan, and at the sun setting behind the treetops, casting long golden shadows over the mansion.
He smiled. It was perfect.
The next few days at the Butterfly Mansion passed in relative ease. Genya spent a lovely morning practically melting in a nice hot bath, then spent some grueling hours stretching out his stiff limbs under Aoi’s recuperation guidance. He ate with the others out in the courtyard every day, watching birds and clouds in the sky and listening to tales of the many wounded soldiers who had passed through these gates.
He and Sanemi walked to the Demon Slayer Corps graveyard, a short distance from the Butterfly Mansion, convenient for transporting the remains of those slayers who could not be saved at the corps hospital.
“I’m telling you, it wouldn’t be a problem at all.” Sanemi was saying, a brown bag slung over his shoulder as they strolled amongst the gravestones of their fallen comrades. “The wind estate has more than enough room for the both of us.”
“I know, and I appreciate it,” Genya said, briefly laying a gentle hand on the smooth gray headstones one after another as they passed by, before coming to a slow stop in between two graves, under the shade of a tall tree. Sanemi turned, looking at him in confusion.
“But it’s not that. All your life, you took care of me. I want you to know that I’ll be okay on my own. I want you to know that you’ve done a good job, and you don’t have to take care of me anymore.”
Sanemi blinked, but didn’t say anything.
“I know what my new condition means.” Genya went on, his voice low and his eyes shadowed by his brow. “I’m in a constant state of dying. I’ll be in pain a lot, and have all kinds of problems until Yushiro can help me out again. If I lived with somebody, they’d want to take care of me all the time. Even now, walking to the graveyard, you slowed down for me because I couldn’t keep up, didn’t you?”
Sanemi remained silent. Genya grit his teeth. He was right.
“You had to grow up so fast. You took on so much responsibility at such a young age. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life worrying over me. I want you to live and be happy.”
Genya was looking down at the ground now, his shoulders trembling as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He must look pathetic, he knew, a dying man stubbornly refusing help, but he couldn’t help it. Sanemi had told him he wasn’t a burden, but that couldn’t possibly be true, especially now in his current dilapidated state. It was probably just one of those things brothers said to their siblings out of duty, to put them at ease.
He looked up as Sanemi’s hand landed on his shoulder. His level voice sounded light and easy, but carried an undercurrent of something more serious.
“I can respect you wanting to strike out on your own. But only if it's for that reason. I know exactly what living with you would mean, and I want you to know that I’m more than happy to live that life, so long as you’re in it.”
Genya’s lip curled in on itself as he avoided eye contact, his heart beating in nervous spurts.
“But if that’s not what you want, I can’t force you. Just promise you’ll write, and come visit your old brother from time to time.”
“Alright.” Genya’s face broke in a relieved smile. “Thank you, nii-chan.”
“Of course.” Sanemi smiled softly. “Remember, wherever you go, whatever you do, you can always come to me for help if you need it. I’ll always be here.”
Right, Genya thought, looking down at the graves. Always…
Neither of them had acknowledged Sanemi’s mark. It hung in the air between them like a dagger, both of them knowing exactly what it meant and refusing to speak of it.
Sanemi was twenty-one this year. That meant he had at most four years left in him, before the curse of the mark claimed him, and he would be laid to rest among his fellow slayers in this very cemetery.
It seemed both of them agreed, it was a conversation for another time.
“So,” Genya said after a moment, “We’re almost to her grave, right?”
“Yes.” Sanemi said, snapping back to attention. “It’s right around the corner.”
They followed the path until it split at a crossroads through the graves. Sanemi turned left and Genya followed, until they stopped in front of a beautiful gray stone marked with the words KOCHOU KANAE in perfect elegant characters. Below, a polished steel plaque had been mounted into the stone, reading KOCHOU SHINOBU in the same script.
A rush of warm awe rolled over Genya’s frame. He was standing before the graves of the Flower and Insect Hashira.
“We couldn’t recover Shinobu’s body,” Sanemi said, “since that bastard Upper Two absorbed her. It was all part of her plan of course, and it was a damn good revenge, I’ll give her that, but still. She shouldn’t have had to do something so extreme.”
Genya struggled to imagine the doctor, her little body and kind eyes going toe-to-toe in full rage against one of the strongest demons to ever exist, but the proof was undeniable. She had pulled it off, and was forever lost to the demon realm for it.
“We put up a plaque there, so she could stand in memoriam with her sister. I think Shinobu and Kanae would have both wanted it this way.”
Sanemi knelt before the grave, then withdrew a pink lily from his bag. He placed it on the flat stone in front of the monument to the sisters, and pressed his hands together in prayer. Genya knelt with him, his own hands pressed together just as Himejima had always done.
Namu amida butsu, he thought in rhythm, praying the souls of the departed Hashira could hear his gratitude for all their sacrifice.
“I loved her, you know.” Sanemi said after a moment, still kneeling with his back to Genya. His voice was hollow and gray.
“Kanae, I mean.” Sanemi continued. “She was smart and beautiful and one of the strongest warriors I’ve ever fought with. But beyond that, she was just… vibrant. No matter what, she could make anyone smile. We went to a lot of terrible places and saw some really f*cked up things, but the remaining victims of the demons would always smile whenever Kanae appeared. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I wish you could have met her.”
“I’ve never heard a bad word against her.” Genya said, “She sounds like a really good person. I wish I could have met her as well.”
“Shinobu has my eternal gratitude for taking out the demon that took Kanae from us.” Sanemi's voice quivered with rage, but it softened out again. “I was going to tell her I loved her. If she accepted, I was going to ask her to marry me in a few years. I hoped we could slay Muzan together, then retire from the corps and spend the rest of our lives together. I think she liked me too. But before I could confess, she was killed.”
Sanemi looked at Genya over his shoulder. There were tears in his eyes.
“Find someone worth loving, Genya. Find someone you can spend the rest of your life with.”
Genya hadn’t had much time for a love life. Besides, girls made him nervous, and he didn’t think anyone would want a man as scarred and broken as he was. He bit his cheek. To be loved would be nice, an answer to that peace he’d longed for ever since that night his family had been ripped away from him. But as things stood, he didn’t know if that prayer would be answered in this lifetime.
“I’ll try.” He said, mostly to put Sanemi at ease. “But… Nemi… you should too.”
“Me?” Sanemi blinked.
“I know you loved Kanae, but I think she would want you to find happiness with someone while you’re alive.”
“...I can’t.” Sanemi said after a moment. “I’ve seen some crazy sh*t, Genya. I’m not a normal person after all that. I think the only person who could accept me is someone who’s been through the same things as I have, like Kanae. Nobody else is left.”
Genya nodded. That much made sense, he felt similarly. But there was also a contradiction in what his brother said.
“What about Tomioka-san?”
“What.”
“Yushiro told me he survived too, right? He's a Hashira too. I’m sure he’d understand you better than most people could.”
Neither spoke for a moment. A breeze swept through the graveyard, rustling through the low-hanging branches and stirring dust over fresh graves, rushing in rhythm with the murmuring stream.
“Are you saying I should f*ck Tomioka?”
Sanemi’s eyes had turned to angry slits. Genya reddened.
“No!” He put his hands up before Sanemi could strangle him. “I just mean you should be friends! I’m sure you have a lot in common, I think you could get along now that it's all over!”
“Hmm…” Sanemi lowered his fist. “You… Might have a point. Though I doubt he’s any lonelier than he was before everyone died, the loser didn’t have any friends to begin with.”
Genya’s eyes widened a bit at the disrespect to a Hashira, but he supposed Sanemi was allowed to say such things as a member of the same rank.
“You should get in touch with him.” Genya said, “I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
“Ugh,” Sanemi wrinkled his nose, “He would, wouldn’t he? Whatever. I’ll think about it.”
The Shinazugawa brothers rose, and continued on their way. They paid their respects at the grave of Kyojuro Rengoku, where two sticks of lit incense wafted a sweetly spiced perfume into the air. They moved to the joint grave of Mitsuri and Obanai, buried together as they were found embracing in their last moments. Next they stopped at a monument to Muichiro, the youngest pillar’s name carved among a motif of swirling clouds on a thin stone block.
“I thought he survived.” Genya said softly. “Back in the castle. I thought he’d be okay. I couldn’t believe it when I heard he’d died.”
His breath caught in his throat. He’d heard the Mist Hashira hadn’t survived, but here, now, in front of the monument to his life, it became real.
Muichiro was gone.
“He got sliced in half.” Sanemi said, “And he didn’t have any freaky demon powers to save him.”
“I know, but…” Genya blinked back tears, “He just always seemed so… infinite. Like nothing could stop him. I thought maybe he’d be alright somehow.”
“He was crazy talented.” Sanemi nodded. “He had more potential than any other Hashira I’d ever met. I would have loved to see him in his prime.”
Muichiro… Genya thought, a tear breaching his efforts and trickling down his right cheek. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for all your sacrifice. I’ll never forget you, I promise.
They finished paying their respects to the fallen pillar, then Sanemi turned to the one next to it. It was small, practically flat on the ground. Probably a monument to a lower ranking demon slayer, one of the hundreds that had been consumed by Muzan in the Infinity Castle. Genya was surprised to see it in the Hashira section of the graveyard, but perhaps they were running out of space.
But, no, that couldn’t be it. The earth in front of the grave was disturbed, with a few small-stemmed plants creeping through the loose dirt. This person had been recently buried. The bodies of those who had died in the Infinity Castle could not be recovered. He took a closer look at the inscription on the little block of stone as Sanemi knelt before it.
HIMEJIMA GYOMEI
Genya’s heart skipped a beat. He sank to his knees next to Sanemi, trembling fingers spread in the dirt.
“He didn’t want a big fancy marker on his grave.” Sanemi said quietly. “He said it’d just waste resources. He was a humble man to the end.”
“Master…” Genya breathed, the word catching in his throat.
“I owe him a lot. He took you in, and brought you up right when I couldn’t. He was a kind man, and the strongest warrior I’ve ever met.”
Genya nodded. Nobody could argue with that. The man had been over seven feet tall and built like a mountain, after all.
“After the battle, when the kakushi cleaned everything up, they took his body.” Sanemi rustled around in his bag. “And they gave me these.”
He removed three objects. A battered beaded necklace, its red ceramic cracked and worn. A string of ojuzu beads, big enough to fit around a truly massive hand. And last of all, a faded yellow haori, its cuts mended with thick string and its embroidered nianfo prayer proudly displayed on its white edges. Genya’s eyes widened as a sob cracked in the back of his throat.
“I don’t know why the kakushi decided I’d be in charge of everyone’s stuff.” Sanemi grimaced. “I already gave Obanai’s snake to Kanao to help her see, and brought Mitsuri’s sword back to her family.”
He lifted the separate strings of red beads onto the yellow haori, then set the whole bundle in front of Genya.
“I don’t know if you’re into all this buddhist stuff or not, but he was your mentor. These belong to you now.”
“I-I couldn’t.” Genya said through a choke of emotion. “These are Himejima-san’s, they should’ve been buried with him.”
“You know him, he’d just call that a waste. Really Genya, I think he’d want you to have them.”
Genya shook his head. His brother didn’t understand. These belonged to Himejima Gyomei, the strongest member of the Demon Slayer Corps. Genya, especially in his current condition, was undoubtedly the weakest. He was unfit to inherit such a treasure.
Still, he reached out a tentative hand to touch the final worldly memento of his master. The last words the man had said to him came flooding back to his mind.
I am very proud of you, young one. It is time to rest now.
Himejima-sensei… Genya thought, his throat tightening.
The floodgates on his eyes opened. Two streams of tears dripped down his cheeks, just like they had always traveled down the face of his mentor. Genya grasped the ojuzu beads in his right hand. They were warm, and worn smooth from many years of the man’s calloused grasp. Genya smiled in spite of himself. He wiped his eyes after a moment, then spoke.
“Okay. I’ll take them. Thank you, Nemi. Thank you, Himejima-sensei.”
He held the ojuzu beads in a closed fist to his chest.
“Namu amida butsu.”
The sound of broad wings flapped above them, and they both looked up at the cry of a crow, watching it land on the dirt path before them.
“KAW! Shinazugawa Sanemi! Shinazugawa Genya! The master Ubuyashiki Kiriya invites you to the final meeting of the Demon Slayer Corps! All members are encouraged to attend!”
“The final meeting?” Genya echoed, confused.
“Attend, attend!” The crow cried, then flapped off in a flurry of black feathers.
A slip of paper tied about its leg undid itself as it went, floating down and landing in front of Sanemi, who picked it up and unrolled it.
“It’s the time and place,” Sanemi read, “three days from now. Hmm, I don’t recognize this address. Though I suppose they can’t use the old place, since Master Kagaya blew it up. I hope Kiriya is doing alright after all that.”
Kiriya Ubuyashiki. A stir of shame welled up in Genya. He’d met the boy before, on top of Mount Sagiri after Final Selection. He’d been an angry person then, and had attacked the white-haired sister of the new master, Kanata. He had since apologized, of course, but he still felt stabs of guilt whenever he’d been in the presence of the Ubuyashiki family.
“We should be able to take a train to a town close by,” Sanemi frowned, scrutinizing the address, “Then walk the rest of the way. We’ll leave the day after tomorrow so we get there on time. Come on, let’s head back to the Butterfly Mansion.”
Genya nodded and rose. He took one last look at the memorials of Himejima and Muichiro, then out over the sweeping field of stone monuments.
These were people once. Men and women and children who’d devoted their lives to fighting against Muzan’s terrible power. He could feel their ghosts around him, smiling up at him and sharing in their victory.
There, above the Kochou sister’s monument, a pair of colorful butterflies fluttered in the light of the sun.
It’s over. Genya thought, smiling out to them. You can rest.
“Genya,” Sanemi called, “You coming?”
“Right!” Genya said, moving to follow after his brother.
