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Genya took a deep breath before entering the Wind Estate.
The Kakushi waiting outside with him glanced at him up and down, no doubt wondering why some newbie slayer was demanding to see one of the highest ranking members of the corps.
“My name is Genya Shinazugawa and I need to see the Wind Hashira! Right now!”
He didn’t give a damn what they thought of him … He had to see him now.
“Please follow me,” a female Kakushi said.
Genya trekked behind her, taking in the green and beige walls of the main house. It was bigger than any place he’d seen. His whole family could each take a room and still have space for others.
It was absolutely infuriating to him.
This guy lives here all by himself in a place like this … greedy bastard.
A maze of doors later and he finally found the man he’d been seeking.
“My lord, your guest has arrived.”
A demon slayer stood in the backyard as the wind flurried their hair. The white haori they wore bore the kanji for “KILL” on it.
“Genya,” The Hashira mumbles before turning around to face him.
His olive brown eyes analyze him for a moment with a contemplative expression. Once he finishes gathering his thoughts, a smile takes over his face.
“Its great to finally meet you I’m—”
“What happened to him!” Genya yelled at the Wind Hashira, Masachika Kumeno.
He violently grabbed the elders uniform. The vice grip shook with rage and their confused expression only served to piss him off more.
“What happened to my older brother Sanemi Shinazugawa!”
Once Genya understood what happened that night, the night his family was forever shattered, he started looking for where his brother ended up.
The Demon Slayer Corps.
People who hunt down demons to stop them from killing others. People whose loved ones were killed by demons. People who were hurt and vowed to save others from that pain. Just like them
Finding a trainer willing to take him in was excruciating. More so than Final Selection and he was nearly killed by three different demons! Though Genya couldn’t use breathing techniques or swing a sword properly, he made it out in one piece.
Only he didn’t find his brother upon entering.
But rather a gravestone with his name etched into it.
Genya couldn’t believe it at first. He stood there in shock for what felt like hours, unable to process. The kakushi who had led him over seemed to understand his dilemma.
“I heard he was close friends with the Wind Hashira, maybe you could ask him what happened?”
“Sanemi and I were best friends, brothers by bond.”
Genya scoffs at the notion.
“We got sent together for a mission. What we thought was another normal demon ended up being one of the Twelve Kizuki. By the time I figured out her blood demon art Sanemi was in pretty bad shape.
We ended up defeating the demon but—” As the Hashira’s voice catches, whatever remains of Genya’s heart shatters.
His legs give out as despair washes over him. His hands release and crash on the hardwood with his knees. The loud thudding sound as they hit rival his overwhelming, ragged breaths.
Tears slip down his face and as much as he wants to stop them he can’t.
The last moment Genya and his brother shared was a misunderstanding he can never fix. No matter what he does next, he’ll never be able to make up for the biggest mistake in his life.
Genya was always too late. Too late to react and save his siblings. Too late to realize what Sanemi did for him. And worse, too late to apologize for what he did back.
“In the end, we had to cremate his body so no demon could eat it. Sanemi had a marechi blood that was intoxicating to demons. It was an unfortunate process but the Master feared one might dig him up for a quick meal.”
Genya never buried his siblings. He never went home after their mother faded to dust. He couldn’t bring himself to go back. It seems none of his family had a proper burial.
None of them got a happy ending. All because of these bastard demons. They weren’t perfect, not by a longshot, but their family was happy and taken care of.
“I wanna kill,” the boy rises to his feet. “The demons. I want to kill all of them.”
“Genya,” the elder sighs, the same way Sanemi would when their siblings were being difficult.
“Your brother left a will for us. All demon slayers do.”
Genya perked his head up at the Hashira.
“He wanted you to settle down and have a family. To live far away from this mess and make up for what the rest of your family couldn’t.”
“How could I!” Genya screams back. Tears fly off his face as the raw sound echoes through the estate.
“My mother was turned into a demon and killed my siblings! My big brother then risked his life to kill them! … The nicest, kindest person I knew—”
Genya could barely speak. The ragged, angry breathing along with his messy crying strained his lungs.
“Died … so that no one else would have to lose someone to demons too.”
He rubs his eyes and the fiery rage continues,
“My whole family was killed by those awful creatures so I’m gonna make them pay by destroying every last one!” Genya declared.
A chill runs through the yard. A quiet breeze passes by, yet is overshadowed by the younger’s ragged, angry breaths.
“Sanemi wouldn’t want this.” The words shake as they come out of the Wind Hashira. Was he nervous?
The stupid smile on their face was gone as he bit his lip and held back whatever words were on his mind. Not that it mattered anymore. Genya got everything he needed from him.
“I don’t care. I have to do this … for him. For all of them.” Genya says coldly before storming off.
“I’ll become the best damn slayer no Hashira they’ve ever seen!” He thinks.
“Then, I’ll kill the Demon King and--” The wind ruffles his hair the moment he steps outside.
“Then and only then, can I fulfill your request, Big Brother.”
Genya aims his gun and takes a deep breath.
The shotgun rests on his left arm, while the right one holds it steady. His eyes lock on the target. The wind blows from the northeast through his evergrowing mohawk. He exhales as he pulls the trigger.
The shot hits dead center.
“Not bad, I see you're improving quite well.”
Genya jolts his body to the porch behind him, where his mentor stands overhead.
“Geez Master Himejima.” He huffs, trying his best to calm his nerves. “You're too quiet for someone so big.”
“Perhaps you need to work on your awareness after lunch. Especially since you haven’t eaten since last afternoon.” The elder chastises, though the words hold little malice.
Genya groans in annoyance .
Eating food is a struggle due to his … unique ability. The taste and textures blend with the disgusting feeling of demon flesh. It leaves a sickness in his stomach that normal food worsens.
“Fine. But don’t blame me if I don’t finish it.”
Master Himejima only nods.
Genya was still getting used to the Stone Hashira and his strange habits. The man cried randomly throughout the day or mumbled Buddhist prayers and “Namu Namu.” He can’t take jokes whatsoever. Hell, he might be the first person born without a sense of sarcasm.
Not that Genya was any easier to deal with. He’s blunt when it comes to how he feels. His temper born from his lack of skills. It's honestly a miracle Master Himejima saved him and took him in as an apprentice.
The spring breeze outside shifts to summer as the two eat boxed lunches.
“This morning I ran into The Wind and Mist Hashira. Kumeno had bought bentos for us and some other demon slayers. Once everyone had their share he insisted I take one for you.
Genya nearly snapped his chopsticks.
Though he’s stated to be the ‘Friendliest Pillar,’ Genya hates the Wind Hashira.
The sound of his name fills him with disgust and rage. He avoids him like the plague, cutting off every interaction they get so that dumb chatter box won’t hold him hostage.
The thought of stupid smile and joyful demeanor adds to the tire fire burning deep within him.
The Wind Hashira gave him a savings account after his first mission, one with more money than he’s ever seen in his entire life. Enough to settle down, buy a nice house, and live a cushy, comfortable life.
A last ditch plea to quit and do what Sanemi wanted.
Genya rejected it. He doesn’t want that man’s pity money … he wants his brother back.
He knows he’s wrong for his anger towards him. Sanemi’s death was not his best friend’s fault yet can’t help but misdirect it into the only person who made it out alive.
And Genya knows how hurt he is by it. How he doesn’t chase when Genya storms off mid-conversation despite how much he probably wants to. How when Genya yells at him or shoves him away a mournful look flickers in his eyes.
A loud caw from his Kasagi crow pulls him back to reality.
“Mission time for Shinazugawa!” Hashibara called out.
Genya sighs and looks down at his half eaten meal.
Here we go again.
Genya dashed through the forest, the demon hot on his tail.
This is it … this is how I die.
As the regeneration and demon powers wear off Genya feels his body start to shut down. His chest burns, struggling to inhale air while running.
The demon laughs and throws a dagger in his direction. The projectile whistles past his ear, missing by mere inches.
It launches another, this one landing in his lower left calf. A shockwave jolts through his body sending Genya to the floor.
He grunts in pain, glaring at the demon who laughs at his misery.
“I thought you were gonna be more impressive than the others. You did manage to rip my fingers off with your teeth. Not to mention somehow gaining resistance to my attacks after eating them.”
He tosses another dagger. Genya yells as the shockwave runs through his right shoulder.
“But I suppose you are still a pathetic human.”
Genya tries to grab his wakashi from his waist, his hands twitching uncontrollably from their blood demon art.
His heart sinks when he sees the demon summons 4 more daggers, two in each hand.
I’m sorry, Sanemi.
I can’t use breaths like you. I’m all out of ammo. And my demon effects are gone so I can’t move out of the way.
I’m gonna die without avenging you, or …
The demon tosses the four daggers at Genya, each seeming to fly in slow motion.
Big Brother … Please forgive me someday.
Genya closes his eyes and thinks of his brother’s smile, oh how warm his smile was.
How much hope it gave him each day. Of all the smiles he’d seen, Sanemi’s was the best. It shone brighter than every star in the night sky.
Genya braces for the impact, but no pain comes.
Rather, someone swiftly lifts him up and off to the side. His eyes fly open as his savior sets him back down. The blood demon art keeps him from moving, unable to see who it was.
“Oh, would you like to play as well?” The demon taunted them, yellow green eyes gleaming with excitement.
The person says nothing. Their hand gently brushed through his hair, freezing at the wound bleeding from his head.
“You will suffer a fate worse than death for what you have done,” a familiar voice says, one with a rage Genya has never heard.
“I’ll slice you into pieces so small your body will disintegrate before you can comprehend it.” The Wind Hashira says.
He carefully maneuvers over Genya, green and black sword glintling in the moonlight. His white “KILL” haori stands tall in front of him. Protecting him.
Why is he protecting him?
Genya has been nothing but disrespectful to the Wind Hashira. Hell, some of the other slayers get mad at him for it. So … why?
Genya catches him slicing off the demon's head, its body exploding in a fury of wind. The Hashira steps back into his view and for a moment they look different.
White unruly hair and scared arms gripping a blade with a pinwheel sword guard.
He blinks and it's gone. His brother … or what would have been him morphs into what remains.
They remain. They are the only two people that knew him, that loved him. They are the ones that keep his memory alive. They both are the ones he wished to live one.
Tears prick Genya’s eyes, how cruel of him to doubt his brother. To treat a soul just as kind as him so poorly. He’s no better than that boy denouncing his big brother after he desperately fought to protect him.
“Are … are you alright.” The Wind Hashira asks. Because despite being awful to him, he still cares.
Genya tries to answer but a weird noise escapes him. The blood demon art wears off and a wave of exhaustion hits him 10 fold.
His vision blurs as the latter rushes towards him. He hates how undeserving he is of it.
Genya wakes up to humming and a hand in his hair. The touch and tune are rhythmically in sync. Oh so soft and sweet. It pricks the back of his mind with a familiarity he can’t place. If the world would let him, he wouldn’t mind staying forever.
But alas, the hand and song fade at his stirring. He wearily takes in the white walls around him and moves to sit up. The Butterfly Mansion.
The young slayer turns to the source at his side, Masachika Kumeno, The Wind Hashira.
“How do you feel?” he asks. His hand twitches, reaching near his face but stopping before it can get too close.
“I’m … fine,” Genya mumbles. How long has he been here?
The elder stands up, knees popping in the process “I’ll go fetch Shinobu.”
He leaves quickly or perhaps Genya's world is still going slow from the paralysis he endured.
Shinobu comes in soon after. Her small hands gently check and rebandage the injuries on his head, leg and shoulder.
“You’ve been out for two days and your wounds have mostly healed up. You should be fine to head back to the Stone Estate but if anything still hurts come back.”
She then moved in close, “And try to take a break from eating demons. Your body is getting malnourished so if you don’t have some normal food, I’ll make Mr. Himejima ground you.” Her tone was cheery despite her serious threat.
“Yes Ma’am.” Genya replies nervously as a red flush rises across his face.
He waited for her to leave before changing back into his uniform, setting the hospital clothes on the bedside table. Then, he checks his gun and wakashi making sure they aren’t too damaged from his last mission.
On his way out, Genya sees The Wind—, Mr. Kumeno.
He shuffles in his boots, fidgeting from side to side. The usual smile he bores is gone, replaced with what appears to be a worried expression. It feels wrong to see him look anything but cheerful.
“Mr. Kumeno,” He says, his mouth acting before his brain.
The elder turns to him and shifts back into his normal happy-go-lucky mood.
“Everything alright Genya?”
He freezes, unsure of what to do. Whatever force pulled him here leaves as quickly as it came. His senses scream to say something, anything but what?
“The Wind Hashira always looked out for your brother Genya. When Shinazugawa would injure himself fighting demons, Kumeno would drag him to my sister and then to a hot meal when he was all patched up.” Shinobu’s voice said, the memory rising in his mind from the last time he came here.
“Would … you want to get some lunch?”
The way Mr. Kumeno lights up and smiles reminds him of his brother, just a little thought.
“Um,” Genya mumbled over a bowl of soba noodles.
The location was Mr. Kumeno's idea. It was a place he and his brother frequented. The beef broth was rich in flavor yet leaving a sullied taste in his mouth
“Just because my brother was close with you.” Genya tensed up, swallowing a wave of emotion alongside his food, “doesn’t mean you can replace him.”
The elder stopped mind bite. His own pork noodles urked towards his open mouth before being set back in his bowl.
“Well it's a good thing I don’t want to.” Mr. Kumeno reassured.
A rush of cold air went by as he gazed up at the ceiling. The hashira’s olive eyes seemed lost in a misty haze. Reminiscing on the past? Or maybe he was holding back his emotions like earlier.
“I saw my own brother in Sanemi, sure.” He whispered softly, even though they were the only ones present. “But never as his replacement.”
“So let's give it our all! For their sake,” he proclaimed with a smile.
“Yes!” Genya replies back, trying his best to match the elder’s enthusiastic attitude.
As he takes another bite of his food, Genya can’t help but wonder what the other was thinking.
“You can’t get stabbed by a demon and think it's okay Genya!” Mr. Kumeno scolds.
“I regenerated the wound!” he rebuttals. “The only thing left is scar!”
It was a small inconvenience during his last mission. A demon with sharp limbs sliced his shoulder and stabbed his gut. Once his gun blasted them, off the weakling was a piece of cake.
Mr. Kumeno sighs and puts his head in his hands.
It was annoying .. and nice at the same time.
“Sanemi—”
The elder freezes and his eyes as soon as the words slip out of his mouth.
“I … I mean,” He squabbles, flustered at the simple mistake. “Sorry.”
“Sanemi would always injure himself on missions by using his mariachi blood as bait. And he hated having to go to the Butterfly Mansion to get patched up by Kanae.” Masachika explained with a sad fondness.
It was the first time Genya had heard him bring up Sanemi since the two became friends.
Mr. Kumeno seemed to dance around the topic of his brother. He had so much to say but never could.
Like … he’s scared if he’s too open or overbearing Genya will leave.
“It’s alright,” the younger replies in hopes of ending his turmoil.
“We … do look pretty similar.”
“Yeah,” the elder huffs, then a mischievous look gleams his way.
He wasted no time, reaching over and harshly ruffling Genya’s hair.
“At least you're better behaved.” Masachika replied as Genya squawked and struggled to shove him away.
“What was my brother like … when he was a demon slayer?” Genya asks.
The two were training at the Wind Estate, the autumn breeze tossing fallen leaves on the ground. Mr. Himejima was off on a mission and Genya was waiting to inevitably be sent on his own.
“Well,” Masachika starts, setting down his wooden sword for a much needed break.
“Sanemi hated demons. He’d decimate several in a single blow. Hah, A blow from him was probably worse than being burned in the sun.
He didn’t like being told what to do. And he certainly didn’t like working with others.”
Genya huffs, knowing the remark was a dig at himself too.
“He was grouchy, reckless,” Masachika shifted his feet with each descriptor, “but kind.”
“I knew deep down, past the iron walls and rough exterior, he was a good person. He just couldn't let people see that side of him.”
The wind blows and Genya sees the mournful look in Masachika’s eyes.
“Did … did he ever tell you what happened? … To our family?” Genya quivers out. The two were being so open and yet the words struggled to release.
“Yes,” Masachika replies, looking up at the sky.
“I wanted to apologize to him,” Genya admits, practically forcing the words to come out.
Something deep within him needed them out.
“Ever since I realized that wolf … the thing that attacked us was our mother, I felt awful. My brother risked his life to protect us, to protect me and …” his voice cracks.
“I called him a murder.” Genya cried.
“At his worst moment, I yelled at him. I … I shunned him for killing the person we loved most.
He fought so hard that night. … I don’t even think he realized until I did.
And now,” His words were becoming incoherent as his lungs yearned for air.
“He’s gone.”
Genya collapses into a fit of sobs as the dam finally breaks.
Masachika, who was mostly staying silent, pulled him into his arms. The hug was unlike those received from his mentor. Master Himejima practically swallowed him from his massive stature.
Masachika was of a similar build and size to himself. His hold was snug and secure. It gave the same feeling hugs from his brother did.
“Sanemi loved you Genya,” He consoled.
“He wasn’t hurt by what you said. In fact I don’t think there’s anything in the world you could do to hurt him.”
Genya's fingers dig into the white haori his brother left Masachika. The only remaining piece of Sanemi from their final night.
“He wanted nothing more than for you to settle down, have a family, and live the life no one else in your family could.”
At his words Genya began to cry even harder.
“I failed to protect my brother from the demon that killed him. I left my parents for the Demon Slayer Corps. I chose to walk down a path I knew none of them wanted for me.
And then I failed to protect Sanemi.
I was …”
Too weak to kill the demon.
Too slow to figure out Ubume blood demon art.
Too late to save either of them.
“What happened that night wasn’t your fault Genya. Don’t blame yourself for anything anymore.” Masachika pleaded.
“You too.” the younger sobbed back, “Don’t let their deaths hold you down anymore.”
“Okay.” his elder croaked, tears falling onto his purple yukata.
The two slayers hold each other close, each clinging as though the world will end if either lets go.
“Do … Do you think he’s disappointed in me?” Genya asked.
The duo sat side by side watching the sunset, having eventually moved to the floor when both their tears stopped falling.
“I don’t know,” Masachika replies honestly.
“He's probably mad as hell at me though.”
Genya manages to laugh and the latter gives a somber smile.
“Neither of us are here to be the ones we’ve lost, but rather the people we are.”
“Yeah,” Genya says as the breeze tousles his hair.
They cannot be whole, they cannot get back the ones they loved.
But … they can have each other.