Chapter Text
Akaza lunged forward, his hand pulled back in a fist and corners of his mouth pulled back into a wide grin.
Senjuro choked on the blood pooling in his mouth, the earlier swipe of Akaza’s claws that connected with his torso had caused internal bleeding.
“You pests should’ve known that trying to kill him would never work,” Akaza’s eyes glinted in the moonlight, “It’s been what, 3 years since the war? And you guys are still trying to avoid extermination!”
Attempting to dodge the incoming punch Senjuro stumbled slightly, his Nichirin blade fumbling in his grip.
“You underestimate human determination, demon!” Senjuro yelled.
Akaza’s punch flew past his face, clipping his ear and cutting off a chunk of hair that had fallen out of his high ponytail earlier during the fight. His ear stung and he felt warm blood drip onto his brothers- his haori.
Senjuro steadied himself and prepared to use a breathing style. He knew at this point that his injuries would kill him, the only person that ever dream of saving him was long dead after dying at the hands of Upper Moon 2 all those years ago, but he’d be damned if he was to suffer the same fate as his late brother without getting revenge.
‘I’m so sorry Kyojuro.’
Senjuro sucked in a sharp breath of air, ignoring the ache of his lungs and torso, and gave his all.
“Flame Breathing Third Form: Blazing Universe!”
Senjuro’s imbued his downward strike with as much force as he could muster, he blinked the tears out of his eyes as he yelled.
The smooth blade gilded as it cut through Akaza’s nape, the normally light orange and silver flame pattern getting coated in thick blood.
The demon's neck flew off with a resounding slice, the previous smirk being wiped off his face.
“You little-!”
Senjuro collapsed with a thud as Akaza’s head hit the ground, he coughed harshly, not being able to breathe.
He grabbed his torso with his hand, warm thick blood pooling through his fingers and onto the dirt below, his vision blurring. The only noise that could be heard as he blacked out was a gruff shout, heavy footsteps running towards him, and the sound of wind whistling under the night sky.
His eyes lightly registered white unruly hair and black short clipped hair as he succumbed to his injuries.
—
Senjuro gasped awake, his chest heaving as he struggled for air. His hands flew to the side of his torso, confusion filling his features when he felt no injury.
Where- where was he? Did someone find him after the fight? Did he live?
Where were Giyuu and Sanemi? Did they make it in time?
Senjuro glanced up. He was laying on a futon and the sun shined brightly outside, filtering through the room's open door.
Wait, room? Futon?
Senjuro’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be.
But- was it?
He was sitting in his childhood bedroom, everything pristine and undamaged, like before the 12 moons had attacked every estate in an attempt to murder the remaining demon slayers.
His wall was the same beige colour, the floors the same dark and rich wood, and his desk and closet were left uncrushed and finely dusted.
How was this even possible? He could’ve sworn he saw his room crushed to bits. He remembered having to flee his home!
Senjuro clumsily got up, his weight felt different. Did he feel lighter? Thinner and fewer muscles than he had previously worked for. Everything felt different. His hair no longer reached his waist, it was short and barely reached his collarbones. His arms and body were unscarred, his hands uncalloused.
It felt like he was thirteen again. But that wasn’t possible!
Senjuro stumbled out of his room, and down the halls, his eyes tearing up as he reminisced about the memories he had here. Before and after Kyojuro died. He remembered eating dinner alone with Kyojuro, asking him about his travels and giggling when he talked about his fellow hashiras. He remembered sitting down at the edge of the table, reading Tanjiros letters his crow had delivered that morning, his day becoming a little less lonely with every word. And he even remembered his father as he stomped drunkenly down the halls, sure it wasn’t a good memory, but it was still one that made him feel like his life was a little back to normal.
Senjuro peeked into the kitchen and practically ran over to the calendar.
He gasped softly. He suddenly felt like he was having delusions.
‘Is this the side effect of blood loss?’
It was years in the past. He was, in fact, thirteen once more.
He remembered this day very clearly, like a stain that could never be removed from his memory, it was the day after his big brother had become a hashira. It was the day that his brother set his course to his impending doom.
He’d been given a second chance. A chance to change the outcome of the war, and a chance to stop his brother's death in 2 years.
Senjuro stumbled back and knelt on the floor, still trying to process everything. Reincarnation? A time loop? Time travel? With demons being real he supposes that anything is possible but he still couldn’t believe it.
What was he supposed to do now? He was years in the past, Sanemi and Giyuu would know him, but they’d never have the same relationship as before. Unless the same line of events occurred.
Sanemi’s hands softly sifted through blonde and red locks as he kneeled on the cave floor behind Senjuro. Sanemi was gentle as he braided Senjuros tangle-prone hair.
Giyuu sat at the other side of the cave, stirring a pot over a fire, his eyes reflecting the light of the flames.
Giyuu looked over at Sanemi and Senjuro fondly, a small smile dancing upon his lips, eyes crinkled.
Senjuro wouldn’t trade this moment for the world, with everyone else gone, they only had each other. And even though it stung a bit that Sanemi had probably only ever gotten this close to him since his little brother Genya had perished in his arms that fateful night, crumbling away into nothingness. He pushed it away, and decided to think about other things than Sanemi’s subconscious desire to be a big brother again, properly, this time around.
Senjuro’s eyes came back into focus as he shoved away that memory. He had more important things to think about right now, like-
His brother.
Kyojuro!
Senjuro thought back to this day, he had stayed the night of, if Senjuro remembers correctly. They had spent the whole day together as a means to congratulate Kyojuro on his new rank, though he suspected his older brother just wanted to spend time with him before his workload got so much heavier.
Senjuro flew back down the hallway, sharply turning corners and probably marking a lot of noise in the process but he didn’t care. His father could deal with not complete silence for once as he woke up from his hangover.
Kyojuro was alive.
He was well, and supposedly living at this point, and he was in this house . He was so close! His brother was so close, for the first time in many, many years.
Senjuro choked back tears as he reached Kyojuro’s room. He threw open the door and immediately locked eyes with his brother, sitting at his desk and writing something. The door slammed against the track, and the wood scraped slightly.
Kyojuro turned to look at him with his signature smile resting on his face, “Good morning!” He greeted as usual.
Senjuro’s tears flowed freely as he pounced on his brother, arms wrapped comically around his neck as they both tumbled to the ground. Ink spilling all over the pristine flooring, paper and pen being knocked out of Kyojuros hand.
Senjuro grasped at Kyojuro's uniform, making sure that he really was hugging him and not just hallucinating from blood loss.
“Senjuro?” Kyojuro’s smile dimmed with concern as he studied his younger brother's face. He placed his hand on Senjuros back calmingly, “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
Senjuro's grip tightened around his brother, “Kyo- I-“ He sobbed and sniffled harshly. Rubbing at his irritated and now puffy red eyes with his free hand.
Kyojuro rubbed his back rhythmically in circles, “It’s okay, take your time.”
Senjuro buried his face into his big brother's chest, tears soaking the older’s uniform. He was here. Kyojuro was here. He was here, in his arms. He was alive, and god he still had a chance to fix things.
Senjuro’s crying eventually toned down after who knows how long, when Kyojuro asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Kyojuro leaned down and planted a soft kiss on Senjuros forehead, moving to cup his younger brother's cheeks with his hands.
Senjuro suddenly felt like sobbing again from the gesture. He’d missed his brother's warm hugs and kisses on the forehead when he was sad.
Senjuro sniffled again as he looked up into his brother's eyes, “ No, I just- I’m glad you’re here.”
Kyojuro beamed, “I’m glad you’re here too! But is there really nothing wrong?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Senjuro smiled, “I promise, I don’t want to worry you.”
Senjuro took a good long look at Kyojuro, his face looked slightly younger than he remembered, but it was still him. His red and yellow eyes shone as he gave his signature smile.
Kyojuro laughed loudly, amused, “I’m your brother! It’s sort of my job to worry.”
“I suppose it is,” Senjuro hugged tighter, not wanting to let go in fears of Kyojuro never coming back. Senjuro cleared his throat, “though I do have one request if that’s okay?”
“Ask away! It’s always okay,” Kyojuro smiled fondly.
He has time to reverse the timeline, he has the chance to win the impending war, and to start, he should probably put his learned skills to use.
“I’ve been practising on my own but, could you train me to become a demon slayer?”
Kyojuro’s smile twitched a bit, but he continued smiling, “Of course, I can! As I said yesterday, I’ll support you no matter what path you choose. It’s going to be hard,” He took a deep breath, and his voice softened,
“But I believe in you fully, you’ll do amazing things, no matter what father says. I just know it!”
Senjuro burst into tears once more that day.
—
Adjusting to life before the war was difficult in the next few months. He struggled at times to sleep on his futon and sometimes ended up sleeping on the ground since he wasn’t used to the softness.
Sometimes he’d reach for a non-existent blade on his hip when he heard a loud noise, and judging by the look his brother had given him, he’d noticed, but had elected not to ask just yet.
His smile strained whenever Giyuu or Sanemi showed up to visit Kyojuro for a mission, his serving of tea as they waited became robotic and jerky. It hurt to have them look at him that way, the cold stares hurt. They hurt so much, and god he just ached to have Sanemi braid his hair once more. But alas, that wouldn’t happen, and he just had to accept it.
Getting back into the swing of chores wasn’t that bad, and music filled the time as he cleaned. His father wasn’t nearly as scary as before either, since now he wasn’t weak, and he’d faced scarier people (demons) in his life.
He’d also decided to start growing his hair out once more, having it short put him on edge. The feeling of short bangs around his face and hair only just reaching his back felt so very wrong.
The training was every evening as Kyojuro slept during the mornings and went out at night to slay demons. He pushed himself harder than he ever had before, and if he didn’t come out of a training session panting and sweat dripping down his face, he counted it as a failure.
Kyojuro noticed his sudden spike in effort and adjusted his training plan to fit his skill level.
When Senjuro had told him he’d also read the Flame Pillar journals to learn, he knew Kyojuro wasn’t entirely convinced. When his brother had left, Senjuro was weak, and couldn’t even perform the first form. But now he had seemingly mastered the first 4.
(Senjuro had decided to hide the fact that he mastered the other 5 because how the hell would he explain that?)
Senjuro just hoped that his ‘genius prodigy’ act was enough to fool everyone since he was certain he’d be called insane if he even tried to explain his time travel to someone.
And getting locked up in a mental asylum wasn’t on his list of to-dos this time around.