"419-1027, Naraharakami, two Bs… yeah, for now…"
The table fan buzzed over Kanzaburo's mutterings. Gnawing on the cap of a pen, Sanemi rocked side to side in the swiveling chair. When Giyuu walked into the office this morning, the wind hashira was already like this, feet on the table and large headphones over his ears. It was obvious that, at least in the next couple of hours, speaking to him was unproductive.
Fiddling with the wooden stirrer in the empty coffee cup, Giyuu watched the loading icon bounce from one corner of the screen to the other. The quiet lofi tune changed in his ear, and the water hashira glimpsed instinctually down on his watch. The monitor blinked, and the young man looked up, the track name already flying out of his head.
Someone walked past the office, and bits of an engaged conversation flew through the semi-thin walls. Palm on the keyboard mouse, Giyuu clicked through the questions on autopilot. He knew it was a bad idea given the importance of the document, but after filling in the same form for ten years, the replies became second nature.
Because of the music, the water hashira did not hear the vibration of the watch, but the rolling of the chair's wheels and the sudden sound of Sanemi's voice let him know that his colleague was on call.
"Shinazugawa here." Giyuu glanced at the monitor next to him. In the black reflection, he saw how the wind hashira threw his head back and massaged his closed eyes.
"Nah, he still won't talk." Underneath the dropped hand, the man's mouth twisted into a tired grimace. "I went extra early today thinking I could squeeze out information when that lawyer isn't there, but that motherfucker brought his robot to inform him whenever I make even the slightest…"
His curiosity was piqued; the case seemed nothing that Sanemi took on. Giyuu transferred his eyes reluctantly to the questionnaire. It took him several seconds to remember what he had decided the answer was.
"I was thinking of asking a bio team to examine the chips… do we have one? Yeah… yeah. I think so too." Clicking onto the next page, Giyuu's eyes darted to the side, and he witnessed how Sanemi's face relaxed into a tired smile.
"Fine. Does the Nichikawa noodle shop work?" The light chuckle blended in with the music, but it passed over Giyuu's ears. For a moment, he stopped feeling his grip on the styrofoam grip.
"Okay. I'll continue watching, maybe I missed something. Keep me updated."
The beeping of hardware and clicking of the keyboard unraveled back into the office. Unable to register the question in front of him, Giyuu sat stiff in his chair. He shifted his hand slightly, and his finger pressed with too much force onto the scroll wheel.
His stupor was interrupted by Kanzaburo tugging the mask up his face and stretching.
"That's it, break time." Placing the mask onto the desk, the old man stood up, grouching and hand flying to the small of his back. Giyuu turned around wordlessly in his chair.
"Ikunosuke's going to cover for me in the next hour. Lunch?" The Crow slipped his feet into worn-down Crocs tucked under the table. The technician's eyes darted sideways, and Giyuu nodded. A glimmer of satisfaction passed the old man's features. Straightening out, Kanzaburo tapped Sanemi on the shoulder.
"What about you? Coming with us?"
Giyuu turned back to the computer and began closing down the tabs, not really caring about the hard time the form would give him in the future. He heard Sanemi take off his headphones.
"You go ahead, I have a lot of work."
His nail stubbed into the power button. Standing up, Giyuu tossed the cup into the small trash can next to the door. His feet prickled from the long time sitting behind the desk, but he was strong enough to push through the numbness.
"Suit yourself."
The Crow, limping on one leg which had fallen asleep, hobbled towards the door. Giyuu held it open for the man, and they both left the office.
Despite the lunchtime hour, the break room lounge was empty; they must have caught that special time after the crowd. Kanzaburo went straight towards the fridge. Giyuu, not having prepared anything the night before, had no choice but to settle for the vending machine. Peering at the scant options, he heard the microwave open.
"What were you working on?"
The turntable rattled under the bowl. Decreasing the volume of the music to the bare minimum, Giyuu transferred his gaze between a pork and chicken sandwich. Being picky was unnecessary because both tasted flat, but he still pretended to agonize for a second.
"The military identification form." He ended up choosing pork. Punching in the number into the keypad, Giyuu searched his pockets for any spare tokens. He wasn't in the mood to use the QR-code linked to the building.
"Ah, I've forgotten that it's that time of the year." The microwave beeped, and Kanzaburo swung the door open. "You've been a hashira for six years now, they should calm down by this point… oh, it's hot, it's hot!" Giyuu turned around to see how Kanzaburo staggered towards the small table, fingers stretched as far away from the heated bowl as possible. The Crow dropped the bowl as delicately as he possibly could with burning palms and shook his hands. He looked at the hashira.
"I can see where they're coming from, though. Demon slayers have a higher mortality rate than regular soldiers."
The young man hummed and, kneeling down, picked up the sandwich from the slot. Shining through the plastic wrap, it looked thoroughly unappetizing.
"Who's Ikunosuke?" Giyuu inquired as he drew out a chair. Kanzaburo blew on the noodles and slurped them in one go.
"A junior Crow. He's very competent. I'm thinking of making him the head of our region."
Pulling down the wrap, Giyuu glanced at the man across from him. The crevices under the eyes were swollen and permanent, rubbed in by the mask lenses. The skin was dry and unhealthy, and the thin ponytail was completely gray.
"You want to retire?" Giyuu asked quietly. The Crow chuckled without opening his lips. His eyes were fixed on the bowl.
"Of course. I have grandiose plans."
"Which are?" The hashira prodded blankly. Kanzaburo smirked, rolling the noodles on the chopsticks.
"In simple terms, it consists of leaving when y'all are still young and alive. Then, I quit all forms of communication, depart Tokyo, and live like a hermit so that when you kick the bucket, I won't have to know."
The plastic wrap felt damp and disgusting in his fingers. Giyuu nodded, forcing an amused expression despite the drop his stomach just underwent.
"Extreme."
Kanzaburo wiggled his eyebrows and lifted his head to look at the hashira.
"Your input isn't considered," he pointed demonstratively with his chopsticks. Giyuu stared back.
A moment passed. Then another. The shriveled shoulders trembled. A short, breathless sound escaped the cracked lips. The outward tension released slightly within Giyuu, and he smiled involuntarily. Kanzaburo's laughter increased in volume, and soon, both men were laughing.
"Aw, man..." Shaking his head, the Crow turned around. His hand flew up, fingers poised as if trying to scratch his cheekbone, but Giyuu saw how the old man discreetly wiped the corner of his eye. Pretending as if he din't notice, the water hashira lifted the sandwich to his mouth and bit in. His throat clenched, resisting the swallow, but Giyuu kicked the food down. It was the only thing distracting the squelching gut feeling.
"What is Sanemi working on?" The water hashira asked after a short silence. "It's unusual for him to do so much desk labor."
"Yeah, that…" Kanzaburo flinched, as if from revulsion. "It's exhausting. We're all floundering as best we can." Placing the chopsticks on the side, the old man lifted the bowl to his mouth. The light shimmered over the rippling broth. "Shinobu is working with him," he said right before tilting the bowl. Giyuu looked away.
He figured that much.
He didn't catch onto it at first. Gradually, however, he noticed how controlled Sanemi was when asking about her. Apart from missions, she was the only other topic of their curt conversations before they learned to deal with each other. As for her… Giyuu still remembered how Shinobu tensed up under his arm when he randomly brought up Sanemi in conversation.
The noodle shop in Nichikawa was where young Shinzugawa took fifteen-year-old Kochou once a week for a year as a blind attempt to take care of her after what had happened. Giyuu didn't want to imagine what either felt, especially after Shinobu started switching her personality with someone else's.
"Giyuu?"
The water hashira raised his eyes. Palms still on the bowl, Kanzaburo observed him, and Giyuu had never seen a more pained expression.
"If you miss her…" the Crow hesitated, and Giyuu's mouth flooded with the sickening taste of pork and artificial lettuce.
"Go back to her."
Although he wasn't turned away by the old man's compassion, it was still too much to hear. Giyuu stared at the sandwich in his hands, watching how the bread softens uglily in his grip. A little bit more, and the lettuce would squeeze out of the slices and fall onto the floor. In an abrupt movement, Giyuu placed the sandwich on the table. Kanzaburo's eyes darted back and forth between the food and the water hashira's face, but he didn't say anything, waiting.
He didn't know what to tell him. He didn't even have anything coherent in his head right now. The bit of the plastic that was smeared in the sauce trembled slightly. Kanzaburo would be disappointed in him.
"She won't take me back until I admit that I am wrong, and she is right."
"Are you?" Kanzaburo asked very carefully, gingerly.
"No." Giyuu stared somewhere past the sandwich down the table. He didn't want to know what face the Crow was making.
The silence ticked on. Even though he couldn't hear anything, Giyuu turned off the music in his speakers completely.
Kanzaburo stood up and placed the bowl back into the fridge. The water hashira didn't watch him. However, his chest tightened when Kanzaburo shook him gently by the shoulder as he walked past.
The door closed quietly behind the Crow. Giyuu remained alone. His eyes traveled down to his intertwined fingers, the artificial digits cool against the skin.
Against the metal of the prosthetic, the ring was no different.
Just a slightly warmer color.
Dangling his legs from the cruiser's trunk, Zenitsu watched the scurrying medical workers. The alley was too tight for everyone, and the Kakushi bumped into each other, equipment bouncing into their hands and shoulders smearing across the walls. Following them with his eyes, Zenitsu tipped the water bottle he was holding up and down. The water trickled towards the cap, and its coolness receded from his palms. He was tired, but other than that, fine.
A couple feet away, several Kakushi girls fluttered helplessly over a twelve-year old demon slayer sitting criss-cross on a stretcher. His face was elongated, and he didn't seem to have been registering the blood pouring out of his missing arm. His body was compensating pretty well for his brain's stupor, though; large, clear tears rolled down his pale cheeks. Zenitsu dropped his eyes. He moved his thumb slightly and saw a faint red streak inside the ridges of the plastic. Lowering the bottle in between his thighs, the demon slayer scraped the skin inside his palms. The dried blood clumped and just transferred from one nail to another whenever he tried to dig it out. Giving up, Zenitsu sighed and, taking the water bottle, slid off the trunk. Leaning down, he picked up the trombone case that he had propped against the wheels of the cruiser. Swinging it over his shoulders, he turned around without looking at the shell-shocked demon slayer and walked around the cruiser.
The moment he turned the corner, the flickering patches of dark from the siren lights were replaced by the shadows cast by the balconies. Claws flexed, the cats sat on top of the rattling ventilators, and their fur rippled from gusts of air. The pipes were bloated from the heat, and the trickling of the tepid sewage water echoed through the walls.
Small, itchy legs scratched his skin, and Zenitsu slapped the back of his neck. His fingers groped around, and just like he had thought, caught onto a small insect's body. He flinched, but forced himself to pick up the half-squashed flesh. He wiped his hand as quickly as possible against the wall, but the sweat collected only more dirt and dust. Trying the frustration not to get to his head, Zenitsu uncorked the bottle as best as he could with one hand and doused his palm.
Childish laughter rang from the alley, and the moment the young demon lifted his gaze, two boys ran out from one of the nooks. Tossing a football between their feet, they wheeled past Zenitsu who, figuring that they wouldn't move from their trajectory, stepped towards the wall. Screwing the cap shut, he followed them with his eyes. Melancholy engulfed him, head to foot. There they were, smack in the center of a demon epidemic, and couldn't care less for their world.
And him?…
The asphalt under his feet broke down into gravel, and the sweet smell of freshwater diluted the air. Zenitsu inhaled until his chest tightened from the expanding lungs and breathed out loudly through his mouth. His exhale echoed upwards between the walls.
The young man set the trombone case down on the ground. The pebbles and dirty plastic scratched his skin when he, kicking off his sneakers and stuffing his socks inside, staggered towards the river bank. Rolling up his pants, but not stopping, Zenitsu waddled clumsily into the water. The sticky, warm liquid engulfed his ankles, and a rush of goosebumps traveled up his body.
The young demon slayer pulled off his shirt and, tucking it under his armpit, bent down. As he cupped his hands, the water was murky and dark, but the moment his palms raised up, shifted to a surprising, translucent color. Zenitsu splashed his chest and winced; the sweat, disturbed by the water, trickled down and itched.
Although he should know better, the young man scratched the irritated spots aggressively. Like expected, it only worsened the sting, but there was also a twisted relief in the pain he was creating. The demon slayer profession was really pulling out his inner masochism…
Zenitsu wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. It was weariness more than anything. After a moment of deliberation, he tossed water from his palms onto his face altogether. The tears were still rolling down when he knelt down to wash his neck, but at least it wasn't as clear now.
The electricity lines swayed in the summer breeze. Stepping out of the river, Zenitsu pulled out his shirt. Despite his best efforts, it still was halfway wet. Giving it a small shake, the young demon slayer laid it on the ground. The laundromat lady would hate him for the amount of debris he'll bring to the washers, but he could figure that out at the time of its occurrence.
The stitches, almost healed, tickled on his ribs as the droplets dried on his skin. Closing his eyes and resting his wrist on the bridge of his nose, Zenitsu listened to the quiet rumbling of the river and the various sounds coming from the alleys. He couldn't tell them apart, but they weren't dangerous.
He probably had no more than ten minutes before Chuntaro sent him off on another mission. Zenitsu stretched, and a wave of satisfaction passed through his limbs. His past self would be traumatized by his lackadaisical attitude, but Zenitsu now knew that the few moments of respite was key to survival.
To sanity.
"I'm back, En," Shinobu announced wearily, slipping off her shoes as she closed the door behind her. A spherical drone with butterfly wings - Sabito's gift - hovered over to her.
"Welcome home!" The robot squeaked excitedly, buzzing around her head and almost distracting her from taking off her lab coat. Shinobu waved her hand, coaxing En gently out of her way, and, unbuttoning her shirt, made her way into the depths of the apartment.
The medical top brass was generous enough to give her one of the hospital's residential spaces. There were no windows, but Shinobu fixed that by placing a deceptive hologram next to one of the walls. Otherwise, it was cozy. Dim, but cozy.
"It's eighteen o'clock, all day the weather has been warm with a light breeze—"
"It's raining," Shinobu said emotionlessly, sliding her fingers underneath her shirt and feeling the clasps of her bra.
"Understood," En chirped obediently. The hologram darkened. The sound of rain filled the sterile apartment.
The bra dangling in her hand, shoulders stooped and neck tired, Shinobu walked over to the couch. Her body shuddered in frightful relief when she stretched out on the couch. Shinobu closed her eyes and, bending her arm, rested the back side of the palm against the bridge of her nose.
These were just a couple of minutes she had to herself; the darkness and the rain gave her a mental image of night which forced most of the intrusive thoughts out. The heaviness of the slumber pressed subtly on her consciousness, and she found herself wandering in a sleepless limbo.
The alarm shrilled on her watch. Her hand jerked on instinct, shutting it off, before collapsing limply next to her side.
Shinobu opened her eyes weakly and gazed at the ceiling. All she wanted was to sleep right now.
Inhaling deeply, the young woman forced herself to stand up. Massaging her face, she made her way over to her bedroom.
"Make me coffee… water, En."
The lights were on in the walk-in closet. Without prelude, Shinobu opened the door and stepped inside.
The entire opposite wall was meticulously taped with photographs, spreadsheets and ledgers with pins and strings spreading across in an almost untangable yarn, her handwriting underneath; and when there wasn't enough paper, her scribbling extended onto the gray walls. The monitor's screen was black on the desk. Picking up the folders with the documents off the chair and onto the floor, Shinobu sat down and tapped the keyboard to revitalize the computer. Her joints were aching, but she brought her legs up to the chair to keep herself from falling asleep. Her fingers lifelessly typed in the pin.
"Shinobu-sama," En bubbled timidly through the doorway, a glass of water in its protruding lever.
"Thank you, En." Shinobu took the glass and took a small gulp. The water ran cold down her throat, only momentarily relieving the headache. Placing the glass down next to the heaps of old papers, the female hashira glanced up at the screen.
Network lost. Trying to reconnect. Please wait.
Shinobu burrowed her head in her knees and squeezed her legs. She was so tired that she didn't even feel anything at the typical response. It's going to pop up eventually, she thought weakly. Unless the follower is killed beforehand. Then… Shinobu raised her red-rimmed eyes and gazed at the opposite wall. There were some records from an abandoned factory which was speculated to be the hideout of the Eternal Paradise Cult. She verified later that those were just false rumors, but never had the time to throw the old documents away. Her gaze lingered. Technically, she had time now, but she really didn't feel like it. It would make the space emptier, more futile. Her eyes slanted down on her watch. It just turned twenty minutes past six.
A rolling cart echoed in the corridor outside the apartment. She could hear the traffic rumbling outside. En was bumbling in the living room, singing something quietly to herself and brushing the shelves with her foldable duster. Neck hurting from the uncomfortable position and feet slowly slipping down from the chair's cushion, Shinobu sat and sat. And sat and sat and sat.
After a while, the lights have shut down in the closet. Shinobu didn't move, listening to the humming of the computer. Although it would be wiser to ask En for the camera footage she gathered today on her scouts, she didn't feel like it. Not today. Without noticing it, the young woman fell slowly asleep.
"… Shinobu-sama? Shinobu-sama?"
Shinobu understood what happened before even opening her eyes. Her body wanted to jerk on reaction, but she forced it to calm down. Lifting her head slightly, Shinobu squinted and glimpsed at the worried robot. The lights were back on in the closet.
"It's time for your daily medicine, Shinobu-sama," En whispered cautiously. "You told me to tell you in case you didn't take it on time."
"Yes… yes, I did." Shinobu straightened out, and her legs slid down the chair under the effect of gravity. Vertebrae and bones cracking, she glanced at the screen. It still had the same lost signal sign.
Shinobu stood up without feeling her legs. Although nothing happened, she still felt a little better inside; she completed her duty for today. Making her way in the bathroom, she saw that the small measuring cup was already filled with purple, viscous liquid.
"I prepared the medicine for you," En chartered. "I mixed in just the right about of vitamins too, like you've instructed—"
"Thank you, En." Shinobu lifted the cup and gazed into the mirror. Over the day, her mascara wore off, and the lipstick was lost over the various paper cups she drank coffee in. The skin below her eyes was bruised, and her lips were crackled, but after her quick nap right now, it didn't seem too bad. Even if her daily vigil was fruitless, she still did something every day that she knew would work without fail.
"Cheers, me," Shinobu whispered. The measuring cup touched softly with its reflection counterpart.
It would've been perfect if Giyuu's image didn't come every single time she swallowed the poison.
A/N: Hello, hello everyone!
First of all, apologies for the disappearance. I didn't mean to vanish like that. The week after the last update I caught a really bad virus which pushed the writing back. I was also really focused on my academics. Last semester was pretty deep in the trenches, both due to personal problems and a jump of difficulty in classes, and while everything from last year has resolved itself, I need to be an academic weapon this semester. Unfortunately, that does mean that writing has to occasionally take a backseat.
However - I am on spring break right now :)) I get to recharge and catch up with the story. I'll be writing like crazy this week because I really hate these large in-betweens. They make the story lose focus and tension (speaking from a reader's perspective), and I would hate for that to happen.
I really like how this chapter ended up. I was surprised at how Zenitsu's scene turned out; I originally planned to feature Tanjiro gang and Rubikku, but no matter how I tried, it just felt that I was pushing characters together. Sometimes, I feel it's better to let the characters enjoy their moment in silence, especially if it's Zenitsu, a very disillusioned demon slayer who's in love with a demon.
I also felt that it could only be Zenitsu who could feature in the scene between the two lovers, Giyuu and Shinobu. His pained love towards Nezuko parallels what the two hashiras feel towards each other; at the same time, his discontent with the demon slayer system goes against what the hashiras (especially Shinobu) believe.
I could talk forever about Giyuu and Shinobu, but I'll save you all the boredom xD I will just say that they remain my number one couple in probably all the fanfics I'd written (including ones I didn't publish).
I don't expect a lot of comments since I am coming back from a long time, but if you can, it would be nice for a brief hello :) thank you to everyone who is supporting this story, you guys are my absolute muses (you're there too, Pinterest). I wish you all the best, and see you next week!