Chapter Text
The thrill of a successful mission was, in Iguro Obanai's opinion, one of life’s rare satisfactions. He and Shinazugawa Sanemi had been paired to eliminate a lower-rank demon...an arrangement that had become increasingly common among the Hashira since Rengoku’s confronation with the Upper Moon three a week back, Rengoku was gravely injured but alive. Oyakata-sama, cautious after such a harrowing event, preferred that no Hashira ventured alone anymore.
It wasn’t a bad partnership. Both alphas shared a sharp, disciplined efficiency on the battlefield and an unspoken understanding born of mutual respect. Sanemi’s brash confidence balanced Obanai’s quiet precision, and while their temperaments could not be more different, they moved in sync when blades met flesh. During the fight, Sanemi’s wild grin had matched the gleam of his sword, while Obanai’s strikes were silent and deliberate...two storms working in harmony.
Now, as they neared the Ubuyashiki Estate to deliver their report, Obanai allowed himself a rare moment of ease. The air was cool, heavy with the scent of pine and blood long since dried. Their Kasugai crow had already gone ahead with the news of the demon’s demise. For Obanai, there was a quiet satisfaction in cleansing another piece of filth from the world...it made him feel, however faintly, as if he were paying penance for the sins that haunted his past.
Beside him, Sanemi huffed a laugh, muttering something about the demon’s pitiful resistance, and Obanai's mouth curved faintly behind his bandages. Perhaps he’d never admit it aloud, but there were worse people to share a victory with.
The pleasant quiet of victory shattered in an instant. A sudden, sickening stench hit them...a foul putrid scent lay heavy in the air of muddy water mixed with decomposing body…definitely an omega in distress. Both alphas halted mid-step. The foul, putrid air clung to their senses, sharp and suffocating.
“Something’s wrong,” Sanemi muttered, nostrils flaring.
Obanai's nose wrinkled in disgust, but his body moved before his mind caught up, instinct propelling him toward the source of the scent. He met Sanemi’s sharp gaze, and that brief exchange was all they needed. Without a word, both men drew their Nichirin blades, the steel whispering in eerie unison.
They rounded the bend...
...and Obanai froze. His breath caught, the world narrowing to the figure stumbling toward them. Sanemi’s low grunt of confusion quickly died as he too came to an abrupt halt.
There, drenched in blood and barely standing, was Tomioka Giyu.
The Water Hashira’s steps were unsteady, his body swaying as if on the brink of collapse. Blood soaked through his grey yukata, and his mismatched haori was torn and darkened with gore. His hands...trembling, slick with red...clutched something tight against his chest. He looked utterly wrecked, and yet… still walking.
Obanai's mind blanked. For a second, he couldn’t even process what he was seeing. The sharp tang in the air made sense now...Tomioka’s scent, unmistakably omega, laced with pain and fear. He had never known. The realization hit him like a blade to the gut. His gaze flicked toward Sanemi, who wore the same look of shock, though his body was already moving.
Before Obanai could react, Sanemi reached the other Hashira just as Tomioka faltered again, catching him before he could hit the ground.
Obanai forced himself forward, every instinct screaming to protect, to comfort, to do something. The omega’s distress rolled off him in waves so raw it made the air heavy.
“I–I k-kill… k-kill…” Tomioka’s voice was a broken whisper. His whole frame shook, breath hitching as he tried to speak again. His blue eyes, usually so calm and detached, were wide with terror...panic so pure that it silenced every question rising in Obanai’s throat. All he wanted, absurdly, was to reach out, to ground him.
“Killed?” Sanemi’s voice came out rough but gentler than usual...cautious, stripped of its usual bite. Whatever their opinions of the Water Pillar, those didn’t matter now.
“I–I… m-my… I k-killed…” Tomioka stammered, a ragged sob tearing from his throat before he clamped a shaking hand over his mouth as if terrified of his own voice. He shook his head violently, eyes squeezing shut. Then, with effort, he lifted one trembling hand and pointed down the road...toward his estate.
Both alphas followed his gesture, unease knotting in their chests. Whatever waited there had driven the stoic Water Hashira to this breaking point...and that thought alone chilled Obanai more than any demon ever could…more than he thought that something related to Tomioka could.
Sanemi looked over at Obanai, confusion and silent urgency flickering in his eyes. His arms were full...Tomioka was trembling violently against him, small, cold gasps leaving his lips as if even breathing hurt. For once, Sanemi looked unsure, waiting for a word, a sign...something...from the Serpent Pillar.
But Obanai… didn’t know what to do. His throat felt tight, strangled by the sound of Tomioka’s uneven breathing and the overwhelming scent of blood that clung to the air like a curse. He couldn’t bear to look at the omega’s face any longer...the pure terror in those blue eyes, wide and glassy with shock, was too much. He lowered his gaze, and that’s when he saw it...
A spreading pool of blood at Tomioka’s feet.
“Sanemi,” Obanai said sharply, his voice suddenly taut with alarm as he pointed down.
Sanemi followed his line of sight...and the colour drained from his face. The blood wasn’t just dried; it was fresh, seeping steadily, staining the ground beneath Tomioka’s legs.
“Shit...he’s bleeding out,” Sanemi muttered, panic threading through his tone. He shifted his grip instinctively, trying to locate the wound. “We need to get him to the Butterfly Estate...”
“NO!” Tomioka’s voice cracked like glass. The raw desperation in it froze them both. His entire body seized, eyes going wide with fear as he started to shake his head violently. “N-no… Amane-san… p-please… A-Amane-san…”
His breathing hitched, fast and shallow...on the edge of a full panic. Tears mixed with the grime and blood on his cheeks, his words tumbling out in gasps that barely formed coherent sound.
“Okay, okay,” Sanemi murmured, tone shifting immediately, uncharacteristically gentle. “We’ll go to Amane-san. I’ve got you, Tomioka.”
Without waiting another moment, Sanemi tightened his hold, lifting Tomioka fully into his arms. The omega’s blood soaked through his haori, but he didn’t care. With quick, purposeful strides, Sanemi turned and headed toward the Ubuyashiki Estate, the sound of Tomioka’s ragged breathing echoing faintly in the air behind him.
Obanai stood frozen for a heartbeat longer, the sudden stillness pressing heavily around him. He stared at the crimson-streaked ground, the metallic scent still sharp in his lungs. A part of him wanted to follow...wanted to be near that fragile, broken presence that had just been carried away...but another, colder instinct urged him elsewhere.
He exhaled shakily, sheathing his sword.
“I’ll… go check out the Water Estate then,” he murmured, to no one in particular. But in truth, it wasn’t duty alone that pushed him forward. It was dread...deep, gnawing dread about what he would find there, and what could possibly have driven the ever-composed Tomioka Giyu into this kind of terror.
And so Obanai turned toward the direction Tomioka had pointed, the faint sound of retreating footsteps fading behind him, leaving him alone with the smell of blood and the echo of a nightmare that had only just begun.
The path to the Water Estate was eerily silent. The further Obanai walked, the thicker the smell of blood and damp earth became, coating his throat until breathing felt like swallowing metal. The night wind rustled the trees around him, but even the insects were quiet, as if the land itself was holding its breath.
When the blue-tiled roofs of the Water Estate finally came into view, Obanai's steps slowed. The place, usually immaculate and calm, looked like a battlefield. The gate hung crooked on one hinge, one door completely torn from its post and lying in the dirt. The gravel path leading up to the engawa was scattered with shards of broken pottery, the faint trail of smeared footprints...some large, some smaller...marked in blood.
He crossed the threshold silently, his eyes scanning every inch. The main corridor was a wreck. Tatami mats were torn and dark with blood, sliding doors half open or hanging off their tracks. A broken lantern lay in one corner, still smoking faintly, the smell of burnt oil thick in the air. Something heavy had been overturned...perhaps a low table...and papers fluttered in the faint breeze like the aftermath of a storm.
There were drag marks on the floor. Long, uneven streaks of red leading out toward the courtyard.
Obanai followed them, his grip tightening on his sword. His pulse thrummed steadily, not in fear but in a grim, sinking awareness that whatever he was about to see would explain Tomioka’s horror...and make it far worse.
He stepped out into the courtyard. The moon hung high and cold, silver light spilling across the empty space. The koi pond, once pristine, was murky with silt, and several of the wooden planks from the walkway were splintered as if someone had crashed into them. And there, lying near the base of a small maple tree, was a body.
A man....an alpha...
Obanai approached slowly. The corpse was sprawled awkwardly on its side; head twisted at an unnatural angle. Blood had pooled beneath it, black in the moonlight, seeping from a deep wound on the skull. The man’s hands were a mangled mess...knuckles split and smeared with blood, skin torn and raw. It looked as though he’d been striking something...or someone...again and again until the bones gave way.
His clothing was rough, civilian, though the pattern was unfamiliar. No sword, no insignia. Just a stranger, dead where he’d fallen.
Obanai crouched beside the body, his sharp eyes scanning for details. The man’s expression was frozen in something between rage and disbelief, mouth half-open as if his last breath had been stolen mid-curse. There were no defensive wounds beyond the broken hands. He had died of one blow, precise and fatal, Obanai curled his hands into fists and breathes sharply.
Obanai's gaze drifted upward, to the faint spray of blood that streaked the wooden post nearby. The impact point was clear. The back of the man’s skull had struck the pillar hard enough to splatter. The scene painted a chilling story in silence...violence, panic, a fight that had ended brutally fast.
His eyes lingered on the prints in the dirt...bare feet, lighter and smaller than the man’s...running toward the main gate, smudged in blood.
Tomioka’s.
Obanai’s chest tightened, a cold ache crawling up his spine. The pieces clicked together with dreadful clarity: the trembling hands, the blood, the broken voice whispering “I killed…”
The Serpent Pillar rose slowly, the wind tugging at his haori. His stomach turned, but his face stayed impassive. There was no demon here...no scent of rot, no corrupted aura. Just death...human death.
Obanai sheathed his sword, his jaw set hard. The estate was silent again, save for the faint rustle of leaves over the corpse.
“…What did you do, Tomioka,” he murmured, voice low and unreadable, though the weight in it carried both pity and dread.
The wind carried his words into the darkness, where no one answered.