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Sanemi’s outside, just wandering around in the forest, watching the sun come up, peeking from in between the trees. His instincts tell him that it’s about four am, the demons are retreating, it’s time to head back to the Corps Headquarters.
The awakening of his mind clock also brings back the memories. It’s not time to head back in. There’s nowhere to go anymore. The only things that could kill him out here were himself and maybe a bear. The Corps headquarters were gone, reduced to ashes, along with the Master and everyone in his family, except Kiriya..
Genya. Genya was dead.
He’s tried to forget about it by now, pretend he’d never forgiven his brother, and that Genya had packed up and left.
The only two Hashira left, other than himself, Tomioka and Uzui, had both encouraged him to suppress the memories, that he’d stop feeling them with time. They all knew they were lying to each other, but there was so much rebuilding to do, in all the ways it could possibly be taken. Rebuilding households with so many gaps, rebuilding mental states with so many losses, rebuilding society, and bricking the knowledge that he too, would die in a couple of years, taking all of that knowledge and sealing it away into some dark corner of his heart.
They both said “Just snap your fingers and pretend it never happened. It’ll be easier.”
Yeah. Right. He thinks bitterly to himself. As if it would ever be that easy for me to forget you. To get over your death.
Fucking liars, the lot of them. Sanemi just needed time, years to pass, because then he would die and be back with the whole life he didn’t realize he had - his family, Genya, the other Hashira, - until he lost them.
He realizes his eyes have blurred with tears, and letting out a rough yell, he whirls around and punches a tree. He can feel something snapping, probably either his finger joints or his knuckles, and the flare of physical pain almost, almost, dulls the stinging wound where his heart used to be.
One.
Two.
Sanemi counts the continuous, morbidly comforting snapping sounds, until he sees something at the corner of his eye.
He looks over, and thinks he sees his brother among the trees.
Enraged by the way the universe is taunting him, he turns back to the tree, tears streaming down his face in almost painfully hot trails, trails he tries to wipe away, but finds useless.
Thoughts of Genya took up his whole chest. Sanemi didn’t like that.
Three.
Four.
“ LEAVE ME ALONE.. Leave me alone leave me alone please!” Sanemi shouts. “I DON’T NEED YOU ANYMORE! I NEVER DID!” The lie is so painful that Sanemi doubles over, choking on sobs for a moment.
“Just… get out of my heart. Please. I can’t take it anymore…” he whispers.
…
He wakes up, screaming at things that aren’t there. Somehow, in his lost, grief-filled haze, he made it back to the remains of his estate. Unable to go back to sleep, he takes his sword down from the wall,
And quickly slices a neat line across his forearm, adding to the already plentiful collection of scars.
This is going to be the last time I’m weak enough to do this. Sanemi thinks to himself. The nightmares aren’t new, just more horrifying. Oh well, he’s the (former) Wind Hashira, he can handle it!
But in reality, how many times have you claimed it to be the last time? His traitorous brain tells him. He refuses to fully admit to himself that he’s lost count.
…
It’s raining. It’s been raining for the past three days, and the rain is quickly turning to a sticky sleet. Sanemi’s happy, in a sick, twisted sense. It’s November twenty-second. Five months today since the battle. A week before his twenty-second birthday, and three years and a week until his death.
There were too many twos.
June twenty-second. The day his heart had set itself on fire, first in battle adrenaline, then in horror, then in grief. Every time it had rained since then, Sanemi had stood outside, face to the sky, letting the rain mix with tears he wouldn’t admit to crying, and trying to let the rain put out his heart of flames. Every time Sanemi would use that term, he’d think of Rengoku, and then it’d be a chain of memories and he’d end up slumped against the counter, wishing he had alcohol, anything.
…
He’s back at the tree. It’s been a couple of months, and it’s now January. Fucking freezing, but Sanemi didn’t give a shit. He’d lost the will to live when Genya crumbled to ash and that feeling never left.
He hadn’t had contact with anyone for a few months. He wasn’t going to bother either Tomioka or the tall bastard. He had no wish to talk about feelings with them either. Crows would occasionally show up at his estate though, probably to make sure he was still alive.
Snap.
Snap.
One.
Two.
There’s a phantom figure at the edge of the woods again. Sanemi hasn’t been out since the last time, where he ended up shattering his knuckles.
“I know you’re there. Well, you’re not. The universe fucking hates me, showin’ me signs, givin’ me hope. ‘S like it knows somehow, you’re still filling the space in my chest.”
Sanemi has resigned. Fuck living. Oh, he’s not gonna end it, he’s not that fucking weak. He doesn’t look at the figure, continuing to hit the tree.
Snap.
Snap.
Three.
Four.
“Gods… please, just … get out of my heart. Please.” Sanemi doesn’t even shed tears anymore, but collapses to his knees in the snow, in too much pain, both mental and physical to cry. It feels more like his chest is yawning open in an endless void of guilt and grief.
…
June twenty-second.
One year since the battle.
Sanemi is one year older than he was and much, much worse. He’d finally come out to face Uzui and Tomioka, going to the Slayer graveyard with flowers and a single bullet. June was almost November, he’d be twenty-three soon, and then it’d only be two more years of this.
The bullet was to adorn Genya’s grave. There had been nothing to bury except his sword, his gun, and his uniform. Sanemi had the gun still, he would keep that forever, and he kind of wanted to be buried with it.
Sanemi’s much less muscular than he used to be, and he no longer has constant tear stains, but that’s mostly because he didn’t cry anymore. He woke up one day with this feeling of hollow emptiness, and that feeling had persisted for an ongoing four months.
Tomioka had left the remains of the Corps headquarters entirely, knowing he only had a select number of years left as well, and went to live out the rest of his days with his adopted father. Uzui was still there because his wives were as well.
Sanemi crossed paths with them both over the course of that day, but never spoke to them. They both looked just as hollow as he. Looks like ‘snapping their fingers and forgetting’ didn’t work so well.
He kneels finally, in front of Genya’s grave. It’s dusk, and the moon is rising. He knocks gently, twice on Genya’s headstone.
One.
Two.
“You’re still in my heart, little brother.”
…
At home, Sanemi screams into the void. Still, no tears come. The pain he feels has exceeded tears.
“IT’S BEEN A YEAR. FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE! I TOLD YOU I DON’T NEED YOU HERE! GET OUT OF MY HEART!”
When his voice is hoarse and he is lightheaded, he collapses to his knees, and finally, tears come.
…
November twenty-ninth.
Happy fucking birthday to him. He’s twenty-three now. No more twos. Except for the ever present counter of two years left to live. He’s looking forward to it.
…
June twenty-second.
Two years since the battle.
Uzui brings his son to the graveyard with him. Tomioka is leaning heavily on some sort of carved stick. His eyes are so sunken, you can barely see through the dark circles. Once a shocking blue, the color of the waterwheels he used to summon, his eyes have almost turned gray, although that may just be his stormy expression.
Once more, he kneels in front of Genya’s headstone, adds another nichirin bullet to the one already there, leaning over, and knocking gently.
One.
Two.
“You’re still in my heart, little brother.”
He goes home and cries, then makes himself tea and goes to bed.
…
November twenty-ninth.
“Just one more year, little brother.” Sanemi whispers to himself, a small smile gracing his features. He’s twenty-four now.
He makes a decision. He’s going to live this next year to the fullest, live for his little brother.
…
December.
He actually makes an effort to go see Uzui- no. Tengen - in time for the holiday. Admittedly, it’s a blur, but Tengen’s daughter and son are definitely key parts. He’ll definitely remember those two. He sends a crow to Giyuu to make sure he’s holding up ok. He doesn’t get an answer, nor does he expect one.
…
January.
He rests. And finally fucking eats something. He’d been eating, of course he had, but nothing fancy, and never a lot at one time.
He actually went out to a nearby market and bought the supplies to make ohagi, and was mostly successful in preparation and presentation. It wasn’t half-bad, either.
…
February.
He vaguely remembers Mitsuri going on and on about how February was the month of love, so he lights a couple of candles in her and Obanai’s memories. Hoping they’d found each other in the afterlife. He lights one for Kanae, and after a thought, Shinobu.
If it turns into him trekking out in a fresh snowfall to buy four more bags of candles, coming back, and covering every available, inflammable surface in lit candles for those he loved and lost, and then wound up catching a cold, well, no one had to know.
…
March.
The snow begins to melt, and with the newfound discovery of the sun on Sanemi’s gaunt face and pale skin, comes the arrival of the first wildflowers poking through the slush.
Far away on Mount Sagiri, a crow flies back delivering a message wishing a black haired former slayer well. Said slayer briefly wonders why his crow is adorned in flowers, a crown on its head, a necklace, and some sort of weird ankle decoration.
He sends a letter back, wishing the other slayer well as well, but doesn’t ask about the flowers.
…
April.
Flowers continue to appear, and for the first time in a long time, Sanemi is mostly a healthy weight, and has begun to tan a little, although his darkening skin is marred by too many scars.
It’s still quite cool some days, but for the most part, it is pleasant. Sanemi makes regular trips to the market. He wants to revisit a couple of places before his birthday, and he promises himself that he will.
…
May.
He spends the month travelling. Seeing all there is to see, but also stopping in at old battle sites. He even stops in Yoshiwara for a night or two. (he doesn’t partake in any of the … activities, but stays for the food, souvenirs, and spirits. Both wine and sake … and old ghosts that come back to haunt him.)
And at the site where there was once a busy railroad, lays a marker memorializing the brave man who fought off a demon, saving hundreds.
Some tourists visiting the memorial that day see a scrawny, white-haired man, covered head to toe in scars, laying a pristine flower crown and a bento box near the memorial. They hear him praying the Namu-Amidabutsu and understand that this man has seen many things.
…
June twenty-second.
Three years since the battle.
Sanemi is back in time for the anniversary. Kiriya Ubuyashiki-sama has arranged some sort of official memorial.
This time, Sanemi appears in a new kimono, looking cleaner and more there than he had in a long time.
He hugs Tengen, and says hi to Tengen’s kids.
Giyuu is there, looking marginally better than he had last year, but he’s still alive, so that’s something.
The official memorial doesn’t turn out to be a memorial at all, but rather a pre-celebration of life, Sanemi’s life in particular, because they all know what’s coming in five months and one week.
Kiriya pulls Sanemi aside to tell him that Kagaya-sama had always been proud of Sanemi, and that Kiriya himself would make sure that Sanemi was remembered, but never idolized. Sanemi likes that.
They spend a few hours discussing future plans for what Sanemi wishes to happen after he is gone. He wants the estate to remain; if Tengen’s kids want it when they’re older, they can have it. He wants Genya’s grave to be maintained, and he wants to be buried with his sword and Genya’s gun, next to the younger Shinazugawa. He wants Kiriya and the Uzui family to live life to the fullest, to never try to hide away their grief, to always remember their comrades fondly, and to wash away the pain of the last moments. He wants the Uzui kids to grow up without worrying that their parents will die on missions, he wants them to play outside among the fireflies til midnight without a fear of demons, and he wants them to lead normal lives and normal jobs.
Kiriya’s crying by the end of the hours, and Sanemi surprises them both by embracing Kiriya and whispering fiercely that Kagaya would be proud of Kiriya too.
Knowing that this would be the last time he would see Giyuu, he embraces the smaller man tightly, wishing him well, and telling him to live to the fullest, for those that didn’t.
There isn’t much more to say to him, and Giyuu soon leaves.
Tengen insists that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw Sanemi alive, but Sanemi embraces him just as hard, nonetheless.
The last thing to do is to visit Genya’s grave for the last time. He cradles the nichirin bullet in his pocket. He has forgotten flowers, so he picks some from the wisteria grove on the way there.
Just like the past years, Sanemi kneels in front of his brother’s headstone, adds the bullet to the others, and lays the wisteria across the grass. The only difference now is that Sanemi can almost consider himself happy, and not just because he’s finally making preparations to die. Just like in years past, he leans forward and knocks gently.
One.
Two.
“You’re still in my heart, little brother.”
Sanemi goes home and lights a candle. He doesn’t cry, instead celebrates the memories of the late Hashiras.
…
July.
Sanemi goes swimming for the first time since he was a child. And then many more times. Most of them are accompanied by the ever-growing Uzui family. They’re up to four kids now, and Hina, Makio, and Suma are thriving.
While swimming in the cool water, Tengen tentatively asks Sanemi if he still gets nightmares, and Sanemi answers honestly that no, he doesn’t. He dreams of the Hashira, yes, and of the battles, but they are no longer nightmares, merely memories, and he feels disassociated from them in some way, almost as if he were watching from a spectral point of view.
Tengen doesn’t seem to fully understand, but embraces Sanemi.
Sanemi allows it to happen.
Later, they all sit on a blanket under the sunlight, eating watermelon. Once more, Sanemi thinks he sees the phantom figure of his brother, out on the lake, but instead of screaming at it, he merely closes his eyes, nods once to acknowledge it, and leaves behind a slice of watermelon under the tree when the group leaves.
…
August.
Sanemi gets a letter from Kiriya telling him what had been found in Slayer Mark research. He was to die at the time of his birth on his birthday.
Sanemi recalled a far off memory of his mother telling him that he was born at 6:22 p.m., November twenty-ninth. More twos. How ironic.
He’s no longer bitter. He laughs with little reserve and smiles at small things, like a snail in the grass, or the wild blackberry thickets that have sprung up between the wisteria trees.
…
September.
Fall begins to approach, and Sanemi grows restless. Of course, he goes outside to jump in the leaves falling from the trees with the Uzui kids, because he wishes he could be young again. He makes cider, and Tengen spikes it, so while the kids enjoy plain cider with honey, the adults get lightly buzzed, which makes the jokes exchanged more readily and the laughter to flow freer.
…
October.
He’s got a little over a month left. He finds himself to be oddly anxious, as the weather grows colder, he finds himself digging through old boxes. He finds an old Demon Slayer uniform that he never even took out of the wrappings. He tries it on. It’s still crisp, and even though it smells a little stuffy, it still fits.
He finds a crumpled butterfly hairpin, and tears come to his eyes. He pins it in his own hair without hesitation, and only takes it out when he bathes or sleeps, lest it gets broken.
…
November.
The whole Uzui family comes over to say goodbye. The kids were told that Sanemi was going to be moving, so they’re all crowded around him saying goodbye, chattering in the innocent ways kids should.
Hina, Makio, Suma, and Tengen, of course, all understand the situation. They all embrace him tightly. Suma bursts into loud tears, and while not as loud, the other adults cry as well.
Sanemi’s going to miss them. He is sure to pray for them all, and the visit lasts well into the next morning.
///
It’s November twenty-second. There’s really not much else to say. Sanemi sends a crow to Kiriya, telling him about his findings, the butterfly hairpin and the slayer uniform, and his wishes to be buried in them. Kiriya obliges.
///
It’s November twenty-eighth.
It’s his last full day. He organized the last of his belongings and laid the journal of his art and writings over the past years, since even before the battle. Maybe it was selfish to leave something so full of guilt and sadness and anger and hate behind for his friends to read, but maybe this would show Kiriya or Tengen that they’re not alone in whatever they felt, and just because he never vocalized it didn’t mean he didn’t feel it.
At the same time, he thinks, I’ve come so far, even I can see it, maybe it’ll bring those I leave behind comfort, to see me healing.
He sends a final letter to Kiriya, informing him of the time of his future death.
///
November 29th.
8:00 a.m.
Happy birthday to him.
He had bought a small cake at the market a few days before, and he ate that for breakfast. He paced about, gathering the diary and a couple of other things he had found, souvenirs from Yoshiwara for the Uzui kids, things for Tengen, old letters he had never sent to Kanae, things he’d just .. accumulated.
///
November 29th.
1:00 p.m.
He eats one more small meal, just a few rice cakes, and a sakura mochi, because it reminds him of Mitsuri. And then he goes outside and sits in the sun one more time. He walks to the wisteria grove and picks a sprig. He doesn’t want to be any more trouble to Kiriya and Tengen.
///
November 29th.
5:22 p.m.
One hour left.
He’s in his Slayer uniform, butterfly clip arranged neatly in his hair. His sheathed sword is on the futon, along with Genya’s gun. He’s ready. He will welcome death with open arms while also leaving behind a newfound appreciation for life.
///
November 29th.
6:18 p.m.
Sanemi’s laying on his back on the futon, sword laying at ease at his side, hands laced over Genya’s gun and the wisteria.
He can hear almost a mental countdown going in his brain. He hasn’t felt any evidence of his body shutting down, although he is getting very tired, so he thinks that he’s just going to fall asleep and he’ll be gone.
He closes his eyes a final time.
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…
Guess I did just need time.
You’re still in my heart, little brother.