Chapter Text
“How many scars do you have?”
It was a question Sanemi had gotten used to over time.
‘How’d you get those scars? They’re dreadful!’
‘Damn, you pick a fight with a wood carver?’
‘Have you ever tried dodging?’
Each was shrugged off with a scowl, or a sharp right hook, as required – so why did it bother him so much this time?
“What?”
Giyū blinked, then repeated, “How many scars do you have?”
He even had the gall to look confused, as though Sanemi was the one acting strange.
“I heard you the first time, asshole – whatever, fuck off.” Sanemi stormed away from the water hashira, who made no move to stop him.
It was only a day later that the water hashira posed the question to him again, and despite his far from welcoming response, Giyū didn’t seem put off in the slightest – far from it. There were only so many times he had an opportunity to speak to Sanemi, but his questions never seemed to end. He seemed to realise after asking the same thing once or twice that he wouldn’t be getting an answer out of the wind hashira, but instead of giving up like any sane person would, Giyu only came up with new enquiries to bother him with almost every time they crossed paths.
The whole thing was ridiculous. Even once the initial shock Sanemi felt at the other man’s approach waned, he couldn’t find it in himself to respond with anything but blatant refusal. He didn’t know why Giyū was asking him these things, let alone why he was being so persistent – it wasn’t like Sanemi had ever given him a reason to friendly.
At first, Sanemi wondered if Ubuyashiki was behind the sudden increase in Giyū's presence, but he didn’t pursue the thought any further. It had been a few months since he and Obanai had been chastised about their not-so-effortful efforts to get along with the water hashira – and while it had been agreed that such animosity couldn’t be tolerated with the demon slayer corps, especially at between the hashira themselves, Sanemi hadn’t expected to be approached directly.
He never agreed to be friendly – civil was about as far as he’d go. The master had been satisfied with that. This was not part of the deal.
“..hello.”
Sanemi considered slamming the door in his face for a moment. It was only the thought of the masters gently disappointed face that stayed his hand.
“What do you want?”
Against his better judgement, he let the other man into the room.
“Have my questions been bothering you?”
Had Sanemi not known Giyū for several years now, he might have been taken aback at the bluntness of the inquiry, but as it was, he only rolled his eyes.
“What do you think?” Sanemi sat down on the futon broodily, glaring at the water pillar like he was the source of all his problems.
“We’ve been getting closer recently. I thought I should learn more about you. All I know is that you like ohagi, you’re younger brother is also in the corps, and you hate demons. However, if my interest is making you uncomfortable, I wish to amend my behaviour.” Giyū rattled off as though rehearsed, and Sanemi’s jaw tightened.
It was true that they interacted more frequently these days, but he was tolerating the other at best. Keeping his word was what mattered.
At least, that’s what Sanemi told himself.
“We aren’t friends. I don’t care about your stupid questions.” he crossed his arms, fixing the darker haired man with a stiff glower, then looking away.
“Oh.”
The moment stretched on, awkwardness rendering the air stagnant between them.
“..how many scars do you have?”
Sanemi choked, turning back so quickly his neck ached.
“What? No – I heard you, just shut up.” he waved his hand when Giyū opened his mouth to repeat his question. He could practically feel a migraine coming on at the thought. “-what the hell does it matter?”
Giyū didn’t respond verbally, simply sitting down on the futon next to the steaming wind hashira, apparently oblivious to the turmoil his companion was facing.
God this was stupid.
Yet-
“..I’ve never counted. Can’t be bothered.” Sanemi forced out, trying to win back some tiny sliver of normalcy.
“Can I see?”
Sanemi nearly jumped out of his skin, “The fuck?”
“Can I-”
“Shut up!” Sanemi cut him off with a sharp glare, but Giyū just sat patiently where he was, as if expecting a simple yes or no answer. Was he blind, or just stupid?
“..why?” he found himself asking. Giyū shrugged.
“I like them.”
Sanemi blinked, trying to process the words.
“..you want to see more scarring?” he clarified, gawking when he received a blank nod, as though it were the most obvious request in the world. Only then did Sanemi process the previous answer, confusion quickly forgotten,
“You like-” he spluttered, absolutely furious as he realised the strange feeling in his stomach was embarrassment, “What the fuck – get out!”
Giyū left swiftly after that, his normally blank stare resembling that of a kicked dog.
Sanemi stayed where he was, sitting in bewildered silence, completely unable to process the last few minutes.
Unsurprisingly, the next few days were awkward.
He had a sneaking suspicion that the water hashira wasn’t really aware of the effect his words had; he seemed repentant enough, even apologising to a livid Sanemi the next morning, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable around the other as one should be after saying such nonsense.
Sanemi refused to so much as think about it, and in turn, avoided Giyū like the plague from then on.
It wasn’t as if he was mad at the other man – Sanemi wished it were that simple – he just didn’t really know what the hell to make of it. Normally, he’d just go and find someone to spare with when he was frustrated, but as Giyū had been his main sparring partner recently, he wasn’t particularly keen on the idea.
It was Genya who brought it up first.
“What happened?”
Sanemi looked up, responding to the rude tone with a disapproving glare.
“Hah? What are you on about?” He continued stalking down the hall.
“There’s clearly something bothering you, c’mon-” Genya called, jogging to keep up despite being taller.
“Tch.” Sanemi wrenched his door open, going to slam it only to see that Genya had his foot in the way. He stopped, glaring at him murderously, “Go away.”
“Tanjiro said-”
“I don’t give a damn what that brat said, now get outta here!” he growled, nudging the door into Genya’s foot with a little more force, yet reluctant to slam the door on it.
“‘Nemi please-!” his brother unwittingly shuffled back a little, and Sanemi finally managed to get the door closed, “I’m worried about you!”
He brooded on the other side of the closed door for a moment, before gritting his teeth and opening it again, “Get inside.”
Genya blinked, jumping slightly and darting into the room when the hashira gestured for him to hurry up.
“The fuck is the problem?” Sanemi grumbled as soon as the door was closed.
“I’m asking you that. You’re acting weird.”
It was clear that he was a lot more worked up about this than Genya was, and Sanemi knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of it now. It wasn’t worth disrupting their slow healing process over.
Nothing was.
“The fuck I’m not!” he spat in an effort to buy himself time.
“Yeah, you are. I haven’t even done anything and you’re being defensive. You said you hated doing that.” Genya was staring at the floor, his expression cloudy.
Sanemi’s stance loosened, if only a little.
This was nothing. Nothing. He was being pathetic.
“...fine. You’re right. Git.” Sanemi chucked the insult on halfheartedly.
Genya looked up, and Sanemi was relieved to see he didn’t look upset.
“..yeah. Cool.”
They stood in silence for a moment, simply watching each other, until Sanemi started to tap his foot impatiently.
“Er, right. What’s up?” Genya prompted hastily, and Sanemi crossed his arms, irritated.
“Why-? Bah, whatever. Tomioka's an asshole.”
“T-Tomioka? This is about Giyū?” his brother blurted out, staring at him in shock.
“It aint 'about' shit!” the frustrated hashira hissed.
“I thought you guys were getting along now. He's always telling Tanjiro about things like that..”
“We’re not friends.” he muttered, unprompted.
“-I mean, I guess he seemed a little down lately. Hard to tell with him. Sort of talking with Tan a little less?” the other continued as if unable to hear the wind hashira's exasperation.
“Bullshit. I see him with Kamado’s group all the time.”
“Not lately.”
Sanemi scoffed, “Whatever. What has this got to do with me.”
“Dunno - what has that got to do with you?”
He frowned at the look on his brother's face, “It’s got nothin’ to do with me!”
“Why mention him, then?”
Sanemi only grunted in response, stomping over to his bed and sitting down with a huff. He didn’t want to go into it, considering he wasn’t even sure why it bothered him so much in first place.
“..I know that’s hard to get over a grudge, but I really thought you guys were getting along. You fuckin' smiled the other day while you were talking about sparring him.” Genya plopped down on the floor near the futon and just within his range of vision.
“No way.”
“Nah, you did – with Uzui. Scared Zenitsu shitless.”
“Tch, freak. I fuckin’ crushed him that day! S’like a battle high!”
“Now you’re making excuses.”
“Whatever,' he avoided his brothers gaze, “He’s just an asshole.”
“..did he do something?”
Sanemi scowled, "What do you mean by ‘do something’?”
“I dunno." The answer came with a shrug, "Did he break something? Fuck up making you Ohagi? Did he say something stupid?”
He was getting way too close for-
Hang on.
“Fucking what?”
The boy jumped, startled by his outburst, “The Ohagi..? He said he wanted to make you some - I thought he might have offended your taste buds.”
“Why the hell would he do that?” Sanemi exclaimed, pulling at his hair in agitation.
"Tanjiro told him you liked it?"
“Who the hell just makes deserts for people?” He snapped, tugging harder.
“Onii-san, friends do that for each other all the time-” Genya held up his hands, placating, “-and I know you aren’t friends with him, but he might want to be. Tanjiro told him the easiest thing to do was listen and shit, so that’s probably what he's trying to do.” he put his hands down as he finished, braced for the next tirade.
It didn’t come.
“He wanted to listen? To what?” Sanemi demanded, but the usual bite missing from his tone.
Genya hesitated, concern crossing his features momentarily, “Uh, you, I guess. Tanjiro also said about making friends 'in his own way'..”
“You’re telling me, Tomioka fucking Giyū, has been pestering me with stupid questions because he actually wants to know the answers?” Sanemi let go of his hair, staring at his brother incredulously.
“..I mean, you’ve met the guy, he doesn’t really chat. I guess he wanted you to- wait, he's just been asking you shit?” Genya’s mouth flopped open.
“Genya-”
He started laughing, only to clamp a hand over his mouth a second later, “S-sorry, sorry. Not funny. So this is about Giyū!”
“I fucking said that! What, you didn't believe me?”
“I mean, I don’t know. I kinda thought you were just changing the subject.” the taller shrugged, "This is fine too, though."
“What hell you on about?” Sanemi groused, flopping back onto the futon.
“He wants to be friends. You don’t. Seems pretty simple to me. I’m sure he’d leave you alone if you asked.”
“Do you know how many times a day I tell Tomioka to fuck off?” Sanemi disregarded the idea, glancing to his brother when he snorted.
“Yeah well, 'fuck off and go to hell' is different from ‘I do not want to be friends with you, please and thank you’. He’s pretty thick with this sort of thing." Genya had the gall to look entirely at ease, stretching out his stupid, long legs, "Plus, you treat most people similarly - how’s he s’posed to know the difference? How is anyone supposed to know the difference?”
Sanemi shot him a glower.
“..what did he say?”
"Does it matter?"
Uncomfortable as the topic wax, he couldn’t help but feel a little glow of something warm. It was nice to talk about something trivial, to have that dumb, lowbrow back and forth that normal brothers do.
He’d missed it so much.
Sanemi sat up and stared at a wall.
“Onii-san-?”
“He said he liked my scars.”
Mistake.
“He what?” Genya blanched, mouth hanging open, “H-he complimented you? You’re freaking out because he was nice to you-?”
Sanemi suddenly decided he didn’t miss having a brother.
“Shut up!” He fumed. How could he be disarmed like this? This little shit was mocking him!
Come to think of it, that’s probably what annoyed him in the first place. Giyū had to have been mocking him. It was so stupid. So pointless.
“O-okay, okay.” Genya coughed, barely hiding a snicker, “You, er.. you okay?”
“Shut up.” this was muttered from the futon, as the hashira had turned over to hide his burning face.
“..you don’t give a damn about the scars, though. You’re proud of them.”
Sanemi only grunted in response, still refusing to look at Genya.
It was true that he felt no self-consciousnesses about his scars. Each one was worth the battle it won – he wore them with pride, everyone knew this. He’d even told Genya off for calling his own scar a blemish, something that had meant much more to the younger than he’d realised in the moment.
So why-
“-did it bother you?”
Why, indeed, did it bother him?
Did it bother him?
"..I don’t know." Sanemi found himself sitting up to look at his brother, lips pressed into a thin, resentful line, “I’ve been… I’ve been acting weird ‘cause I don’t know, okay?”
“..‘Nemi,' Genya sighed, “..you reslly should clear things up with the guy. It makes sense now, that he’s been even more distant. He's stopped asking you things too, right? Or are you avoiding him?”
“I’ve been avoiding him, obviously.” Was the sullen response.
“Well, it’s kind of annoying to see you both moping, and if this is the reason.. okay, look – do you actually not want to be friends with him?”
“‘Course I fucking don’t.” he snapped, as though the idea was unthinkable.
“Really?”
He looked up, meeting his brother's gaze, the silence stretching out between them.
Sanemi looked away first.
“You don’t hate him anymore. You’re supposed to get along with your colleagues, anyway, so what's the harm?”
“You’re one to talk - you wouldn’t have made any friends if that brat hadn’t forced his way into your life.” Sanemi scoffed, only receiving an eye roll from the other.
“Don’t you pretend you’re any better.” Genya snorted, earned a dry snicker in response.
“I don’t do friends. I get along with Obanai cause he's similar to me. Sensei and Gyomei-san are quiet and simple with their interactions. Even you get the unspoken shit without needing help.” he shook his head, “I don’t like playing house – asking dumb questions about things I’m just gonna be an asshole and forget, randomly complimenting people for the hell of it. It ain't my scene.”
He received no interruption as he spoke, though a strange look crept onto Genya’s face the more he listened.
“What?” Sanemi eventually demanded, now hyper-aware that he was the only one talking.
“..you don’t like asking questions or trying to delve too deep into meanings. They should be face value, or unspoken, right? You don’t want to ask questions, or talk more than needed.”
“I guess, what of it?”
“..So much of what Giyu does is convoluted, but I reckon he thinks it’s obvious. Almost all of it is unspoken.” Genya shrugged, and the elder huffed a sigh, “You don’t want to ask him anything, but he wants to know more about you. I don’t think he’s messing with you – honestly, I don’t know his motives are ever that complicated.”
They were silent for a moment as Sanemi let it sink in, his expression cloudy as he considered his little brother’s words.
“I think you know he wasn’t mocking you or lying – but now you're both acting weird, so you need to work it about.” Genya finished, leaning back against the bed and tilting his head back to look at Sanemi again.
“Damn, who taught you to do that?” he mumbled, shaking his head, impressed despite himself.
“Tanjiro.” Genya coughed, embarrassed and Sanemi rolled his eyes, “Of course.”
“-speaking of, wanna tell me why you two are acting so buddy buddy recently?”
“Not particularly.”
“At least you’re honest..” Sanemi rolled his eyes, gesturing to the door, “Out you get.”
Genya got to his feet as the hashira passed him, moving to the door for him.
“He’s a decent person. I’m sure you would get along if you tried.” he pressed, but Sanemi raised an eyebrow, “Not a chance.”
“Your loss.” the taller pulled him into a lightning fast hug, before dodging down the hall, waving as he rounded to corner.
Asshole.