The sharp cry of a crow broke the comfortable silence in the inn room.
"S-slayers in difficulty! Up-up north!"
Sanemi sneered at the crow tumbling into the room. It stayed there, immobile, long enough for Sanemi to wonder if it'd died. With a look outside, he confirmed the announced snow storm wasn't too bad yet. Had the crow flown that far for help it collapsed from exhaustion?
Next to him, Iguro fell back on his hands with a groan, irritation spiking the alpha's scent.
"Not going," he said first. "Too tired."
Sanemi grunted, already rising-up. He scooped up the dead-looking bird which made a spink of annoyance but otherwise flopped like a wet rag. He wasn't going to refuses his fellow colleagues his help in this kind of weather. If there was one thing, he hated was to be able to help and arriving too late.
"It's weird there's small fries around," Iguro stated softly. "Where they coming in town?"
Sanemi shrugged, putting on the man's own winter coat as payback (he'd forgotten mountains were terrible weather wise in this season.)
"With this kind of weather, there could be many demons coming from the valleys up there to have more daytime hunting with the slayers on their tails." He took a fortifying breath then shook himself, getting loose the strands of relaxation he'd fallen into. "We'll be right back, don't eat my fucking food!"
With that, he headed out. The first gust of icy winds had him glad he'd taken Iguro's coat. Fuck, how did Himejima and the Water Pillar trudge through those territories during winter? Currently, he was at the edge of Iguro's territory and they weren't at the top of the mountain!
Reluctantly, Sanemi acknowledged the talent of two of the most senior hashira to take care of those kind of winter-whipped territories with little to no help.
Threading through snow that reached the top of his shins, Sanemi rattled the bird in his hands, "Hey! Tell me where the slayers are!"
The bird shook itself then took to the milky sky, already looking a little bit more alive. It circled the air a few times, blocking a few snowflakes from falling onto Sanemi's face before it flew away.
Hot on its tail, Sanemi cursed as each metres brought him higher and higher in the mountain. He stomped through snow that filled his straw boots and drenched him up to his knees.
Finally, he heard the clash of sword against something hard. Sanemi jumped out of the cold snow to go quicker, jumping from trees to trees. Despite his speed, the sounds of fight stopped. Falling back onto the ground as he arrived into a clearing, he cursed, eyeing through the falling snow.
"I told you to retreat!" Tomioka Fucking Giyuu shouted. "Take shelter!"
From the snow emerged a frowning man, sheathing his sword with a downward slope of the lips talking of pain. On the tip of his nose was a flush. It shocked Sanemi so much it took a second of staring at each other in bewilderment before he shook himself.
"What the fuck! This crow told me slayers were in danger!"
The boring beta looked up, his face barely visible under a big scarf, "Oh. It got me too."
"What a fucking waste of time!" Sanemi kicked the ground. "Going back to the inn."
He had to take a move before his steps were snowed-in and he found himself stuck in the middle of a snowstorm with the aloof bastard. To his dismay, behind him came the soft crunch of someone following him.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing, dipshit?"
Tomioka lifted part of his scarf, showing a black mass of feather, "My crow can't show me the way. You have two. Mn, One."
He looked up, seeing the exhausted crow leave while Sorai flew closer to the two humans, gusts of winds throwing it off-flight.
Grumbling, he took off anyway, "Don't slow me down. And find yourself an inn at the village!"
He heard a soft hum but nothing more beside for the crunch of snow icing over the top. The muted fall of snow mounds from trees and Tomioka's soft even steps put a dampener on his anger. In such place the white powder absorbed all sounds and all feelings.
The fall of a bigger weight behind him had Sanemi snorting, "Eating snow now?"
Tomioka had, in fact, fallen face first in the snow. The comic of the situation had Sanemi barking out a laugh while the black-haired man stood up slowly, his flush deeper from embarrassment. The beta could never pretend himself superior in front of Sanemi ever again!
With a trembling hand the other adjusted his scarf and his – wounded? – crow nesting against his neck then caught up to Sanemi.
Too soon, Sanemi heard the beta's steps slow and then the shuffle of a bird.
"To-tomioka!" an old voice whispered. Damn, the crow must be old as the Mt Fuji! "Tomi-"
Annoyed, Sanemi still took four large steps forward. The bird was still calling its master with worry.
When an annoyed sort of concern had him turn around, snow flew outward around his calves. He stalked back to the Water hashira currently leaning against a tree, face downward.
"Are you hurt?" Sanemi barked.
If Tomioka Fucking Giyuu wasn't so keen on scent suppressants, maybe his scent would have told Sanemi sooner. He'd have tried to be less of an ass. But Tomioka preferred to pretend to be an unfeeling rock!
The other shook his head. Exhaustion then. Just his luck! Sanemi would have felt less on edge if the man was pissing out blood so it was an urgency. With a sigh, he grabbed onto Tomioka's right forearm, right under the elbow to support him upright and only received a devastating blow to the chest.
Tomioka hated his touch this much.
"Fukface!" he yelled. "Fine! Be like that, I won't help your sorry ass!"
By the time they got to the inn, they were both sodden and miserable. Around them, the winds howled, whipping icy slaps on them, and engulfing into their clothes. Sanemi glanced down at the beta hunched over himself, both arms tucked close to his chest.
"The inn only had one room," he muttered, opening the door, and immediately being scolded for leaving it open too long by the owner.
Tomioka jerked, eyes blinking into focus, "I'll-I'll find somewhere else."
He sounds sick, Sanemi thought. Face still flushed and eyes glazed over, the water hashira suffered a damn cold.
Damn.
Sanemi pushed him inside, "The hell you are in this state. Boss's wife! Bring us another menu room Three!" He still poked and pushed the man forward and up the stairs. "You're going to fucking die and it won't even be from a demon." Inside their room, Iguro sat from his relaxed lay on the tatami when Sanemi opened the door. "Don't fucking try, Iguro, there's a fucking tempest outside, no way is there another place for him anywhere."
"Then he can sleep on the street for all I care."
Sanemi pushed Tomioka with his foot, "Hey, don't stand here creepily. Remove your boots and Haori. Where are the yukatas, Iguro?"
The alpha was still frowning at Tomioka who wasn't keen on removing his clothes. Slow and methodical, the man had set down his crow and was painstakingly removing his scarf as if it was glued to his skin. With a snap of his fingers, Sanemi got Iguro's attention.
By the time food for the water hashira had arrived, Tomioka was down to his uniform, his ugly haori hung carefully to dry with his socks and some leather boots Sanemi never saw. It seemed to keep humidity off well. He still took far too long to change into one of the sleeping yukata provided by the in, his back always to them. Not that Sanemi was ogling him; he was just curious about the number of scars considering his face was soft and pure as a maiden's. To his surprise, there were a few marks, one clearly being left by a clawed hand ripping skin from the top of his left shoulder down to his hip.
Somehow, it made him a little more human, a little less perfect.
The two of them started to eat, Sanemi grumbling about the cold food while Tomioka was so slow his food turned cold. It pissed off Sanemi as much as Iguro turning his back to them and pretending they didn't exist… when he wasn't having Kaburamaru hissing threateningly at Sanemi.
"Are you going to eat or you'll waste all of that?"
Tomioka's head, slumped forward, straightened, "I can't eat it."
Infuriating! In addition to being a snooty beta, he wasted food! He froze when a bowl was pushed his way by the Water Hashira. Despite his shock at the offer, Sanemi took it, his trek through the mountain having used up his energy.
"Chew a bit louder, you haven't grossed me enough yet," Iguro said sarcastically.
Sanemi grunted at the alpha. The other's smell had soured since they arrived; it was no help to calm down Sanemi's spike of anger at Tomioka. He was quite happy that their natural aggressivity against people of their presentations had diminished since they got closer in the hashira pack or they'd be throwing fists by then. Rather than beating each other – Iguro ending up black and blue – they snapped and growled in threats that never went further. (Unlike with Tengen which still got Sanemi angry enough to fight to the blood.)
The quiet beta shifted to stand then, "I thank-"
His words sunk as did his body. Sanemi reacted by instinct, half standing to catch the passed-out Tomioka before he fell.
"Catching damsels in distress?" Iguro hissed.
"He was going to drop onto my food." He grunted, rolling the beta onto the tatamis. Holding back his strength, he slapped Tomioka's face, avoiding all the food stuck there. "Hey, hey wake up! Eh… wait-"
Startled by the temperature of his cheek, he slipped his hand back onto Tomioka's forehead. He was burning up. From the look of his dazed eyes and the loll of his head, the temperature was dangerously high.
"Fuck, come on, get up. Iguro, pull out a futon."
While Iguro rolled into a sitting position to glare at his back, Sanemi used Tomioka's collar to pull him a bit more upright. Then, he reached for his arms to help him up.
"I'm not helping this asshole!"
A cry was torn out of Tomioka's mouth when Sanemi held right under his elbows. The beta shrugged him off to roll over his side, curling like a wounded child, small whines coming off him. He was protecting his arms.
"What- Hey, hey, Tomioka- yeah look at me. What the fuck is happening?"
"It'll pass no'maly," the other slurred.
Did it happen often? Often enough for Tomioka not to be worried about such strong reactions?
The two alphas exchanged a glance before Iguro stomped closer, muttering about coddled babies. He took hold of one of Tomioka's wrist. Confused, a little shocked by the unnatural look of To5 a vicious thumb into the crook of Tomioka's elbow. As it turned out, the loud crack of bone had Iguro regretting his meanness so there was now two idiots writhing in pain.
Meanwhile, Sanemi felt a little better. His touch being rebuffed earlier wasn't about him at all!
"Deserved," Sanemi huffed at the snake hashira. He lifted a hand to touch Tomioka but dropped it down, awkward at the idea of comforting the aloof guy. "Oi, Tomioka, what's going on?"
Head shaking back and forth, the quiet man didn't answer. From him, silence wasn't surprising, but Sanemi felt like it was pain keeping him mute this time around. Tomioka's flushed face was pressed to the tatami, his breath far from Total Concentration Constant as it hitched and was let go in near-sobs.
It lasted a few heartbeats, long moments of silence and inaction, then Tomioka's eyes slowly fluttered close and his body relaxed in unconsciousness. Once again, the two alphas exchanged a glance, both their scents spiking with harsh notes revealing their confusion. In the meantime, Tomioka's scent was still absent. Scent suppressant were good for the day to day activities, but it couldn't hide a person's natural odour when under high emotions, pain among it.
Tomioka's old decrepit crow left the nest formed by the man's scarf to hobble toward him. With softness, the bird pressed its head to the ill beta and cooed low.
Iguro had stopped his nosebleed with his sleeve, and rummaged through his travelling pack while Sanemi moved Tomioka's onto his back with hesitant movements. He tested the beta's temperature more thoroughly, leaving his hand for more than one blink, and cursed softly under his breath.
"I'm going to get cold water."
"Wait," Iguro demanded, moving toward the water hashira's side, and sliding up one of his sleeves. For a beat, they were immobile at the terrible sight of a deep, sunken scar running along his elbow. Somehow, it didn't feel like the memory left by a demon attack.
"Did-did he nearly lose his arm or what?"
If someone had hacked at the limb a few times, missing each until the scar was wide as three fingers, then perhaps.
Iguro shook his head, running his hand – fuck, his naked hand! without sleeve! – over the scar, "I'm trying something."
Right then, Sanemi noticed the knife held over one of the oil lamps being shaken a few times so the tip wasn't deep red, then it was pressed onto Tomioka's arm. It pierced skin, but woke up Tomioka whose eyes widened in fear. Uncoordinated, he pushed at Iguro.
"Keep him still," the alpha hissed, swatting away the hand while holding onto the arm he tried to fix. "I have to drain the inflamed scents glands."
"It wasn't me," Tomioka rushed out, eyes wide open but unseeing. "Uncle Maeda, please."
Sanemi pressed his palms onto the beta's shoulder, his inner alpha more and more confused at the lack of scent. He couldn't think hard onto it because a very omega whimper had them both freezing. Tomioka used the distraction to extract himself, though Sanemi had been raised with enough siblings using the sound when they refused to drink disgusting medicine so find control earlier.
Despite that, the water hashira, like the element of his Breathing Style was hard to pin down and they wrestled for a while until the sickness and the pains of moving his arms had Tomioka falling against Sanemi's chest with a sob. The alpha adjusted their position so Tomioka's back was against his chest, his fever causing Sanemi his own hot flush. With his arms around the man's torso and their legs tangled, Iguro could try to drain the inflamed glands again.
It was with a knife at the omega's elbow, soft whimpers and tears falling onto Sanemi's arms, that the owner and his daughter found them.
"That's not what it looks like," Iguro said.
Sanemi couldn't help chortle. To no one surprise, it caused the other duo to react. Though, it was the daughter who grabbed the back of a zaisu, slapping it on Iguro's back. It startled another laugh out of him, while his friend glowered at him, unharmed. Unlike the wooden chair.
"Shi-shinazugawa?"
With a gentle hand onto the other's head, Sanemi tilted his face down, "Yeah, your arms are inflamed. It needs to be drained."
"Oh." Tomioka's head rolled forward, so Sanemi held it upright to keep his airways open. "It'll-it'll pass."
"Are you saying it's frequent?" Iguro asked sharply. "You fucking idiot."
"Mn." The daughter caught their attention. She bowed to apologise, "May I bring some cold water for him?"
Iguro waved her off with a 'sure' and an order to bring very warm water too. Meanwhile her timid father hung at the door, hesitant. He bowed once too.
"I apologise for my daughter. Years ago, a group of what we thought were travellers kidnapped one of her omega's friends. They… well, you must be aware."
With that he apologised once more and left them, promising some help if needed.
"What the fuck is he talking about?" Sanemi snapped when he was gone.
Cleaning up his knife to heat it up again, Iguro threw him an annoyed look, "Slavers, you moron. They remove the scent glands of the forearms, because it has less risk of death than the neck and it can disable an omega. Then they sell them out for a price."
Because omegas without or with very low scent couldn't emit the worst smell know to all when they were terrorised, causing nearby people to be flooded with urge to protect, Sanemi understood. He might be a city-boy unaware of many dark secrets, but he wasn't that dumb. Degenerate alphas who took everyone that pleased them would pay the price for basically the only people protected from them.
Well, fuck.
As Iguro finally pierced the first arm, then unrelentingly pressed right under the glands while Tomioka struggled weakly, Sanemi looked down at the tuff of black hair with a new light. If he was an omega basically stripped of one of their only advantages over alpha's superior strength and aggressivity, he'd avoid his two most aggressive colleague too. (Even if they were all slayers, crossing boundaries of what each presentation should be able to do.)
"Mn." His friend's interested sound had him curious. On Tomioka's other arm, the scar ran along the forearm, parallel to deep veins. It was a stark difference to the left one. "Maybe it wasn't slavers. He called an uncle?"
"Fuck, no way would family or- or neighbours do that. That's fucked up! Maybe he got an infection when he was young?"
Hiroshi had, though they hadn't cut anything. As the big brother, Sanemi had taken care of the young omega. The young boy had been trying to grow out of hugs, but when he'd been so small and miserable, unable to use both arms or even, at the worst, swallow right then Sanemi had coddled him for months even after the fact.
He didn't know how he'd forgotten that.
"There's cruelty in human too, Shinazugawa."
Huffing, Sanemi dropped his face back onto Tomioka's soft hair, focusing on breathing and keeping the man still. (Not that Tomioka showed enough strength to even stand on his own.) His hair smelt wet and had his habitual crushed pine needles and bonfires edges. When Iguro started on the second arm, Sanemi's thoughts tumbled over themselves as the scent changed ever so slightly.
In any other situation, with the distance, he wouldn't have noticed. In fact, he hadn't ever noticed it was Tomioka's scent. He'd always thought he used scent suppressants and his clothes had taken on the forest air. It was known that the water hashira took care of most isolated territories and often slept outside.
"Ngh, s-stop," Giyuu mumbled, pushing weakly at Iguro whose mismatched smell of freshly cut leaves and paper had turned humid. "S-sto'-"
The other alpha wasn't distracted by anything as he massaged the skin above the gland and made white liquid run out. Sanemi kind of wanted to gag at the sight. He did well with blood, but other bodily fluids not so much.
Thankfully, the daughter of the owner came back soon, a small basin with steaming water in her arms, clean scraps slung on her shoulder. She proposed to stay help, but was glared out of the way by the two alphas. Her father didn't make the same mistake; he put down a bowl of fresh water and left with a stern instruction to take care of Giyuu.
"There, there, all finished," Sanemi told the omega while grabbing a rag. He inspected its cleanliness before soaking in water. "Damn that's hot."
Iguro hummed, "Better than barely warm." He paused while wiping Giyuu's left arm, a grimace on his face. "At least he didn't puke on me."
A snort left Sanemi at the thought. He patted Giyuu's stomach when the omega got agitated, but for a while now he had been too out of it to react much.
Gently, more gently than he'd ever been since he lost his family, Sanemi carried Giyuu into the futon Iguro prepared – grumbling all along – and sat at his side to keep watch. He put a cold cloth on Giyuu's flushed face, easing the small frown there, pushed aside humid hair sticking to his pretty face and kept the man from rolling to sleep on his side every minute.
At the window, Iguro watched snow fall, coming back to his side to change the hot compresses. He was silent, but his scent was still out of sort. It wasn't the sharp scent of oriental paperbush just turned into paper, but a that of wet, clumpy paper with undertones of lacquer on papier-maché bowls.
In the small space they all shared, Sanemi started to smell his own anxiousness in the burnt candied ginger and jasmine tea seeped too long. He distracted himself by finishing the food he'd left, far too strung up to also waste resources others had worked hard to offer him.
After that, they relaxed as much as they could, taking turn changing each cold or hot compresses, putting a second blanket over the omega and ignoring their feelings: mainly, the guilt that started to creep up on them. Sanemi glanced at Iguro, laying down, one foot kicking a tune as he played with his snake. Well, maybe only one of them.
With a sigh, Sanemi settled for a long night.
ǁ
Despite all his good will, Sanemi ended up falling asleep. He'd been weary from his last mission, then had to trek through more snow and finally experienced all the mood swings caused by Tomioka Fucking Giyuu, starting with annoyance to finish on a growing trouble.
That's why he normally distracted himself from ever feeling any emotions beside anger.
As he woke up slowly, he moved his head, a groan slipping out of his lips. He'd fallen asleep sitting at Tomioka's bedside, arms crossed and neck unsupported. Everything from his butt up to his neck was tense and aching.
He heard the shift of fabric, the soft inhale of someone he did not know. Immediately he leapt in a defensive position, his hand flying forward. The daughter of the inn owner startled backward with a yelp, her neck avoiding a crushing blow only due to Sanemi's control.
"What-" he fumed, "are you doing here?"
Big doe eyes full of tears dropped down toward Tomioka. Fearing some new changes, Sanemi's eyes followed hers, roaming over Tomioka's body. He was still on his back, one wrist held loosely by Sanemi; his face was flushed, hair clinging to his sweaty skin and his breathe was slow and deep. Just at the left of his head was Iguro's face. The snake hashira was sleeping in a ball peacefully, almost nuzzling the omega!
"You weren't changing the hot compresses anymore so, so I-"
She quieted with one glance, her alright smell of camelia and honey souring a little.
"Thanks," he gritted out. He thought of explaining himself, but huffed out a breath. He didn't have the energy to defend himself to a nobody. "You can go now. We'll take a standard breakfast, but just broth for him."
"Mn," she didn't leave yet, her confidence kind of amusing as she finished the job Sanemi had slept on. "It's-it's good that he has two alphas to take care of him. Without much scent he must be pretty vulnerable."
"We're not his alphas!" Sanemi scoffed.
The alpha daughter exhaled a sigh, her shoulders dropping a gentle slope, "Well, I won't object to help you take care of him. What's his name?"
Sharp and sudden, a hundred of ants scrapped at Sanemi's spine and plummeted into his stomach.
"He's taken."
She looked surprised, "But you said-"
"Tomioka's not interested."
For a few seconds, they eyed each other, their scents becoming harsher. Goosebumps rose on the back of Sanemi's neck, his lips retracting over a snarl as his eyes narrowed. The alpha from a peaceful little village shrunk back, cheeks flushing at loosing so easily a battle of posturing. She left with a polite, but gritted out statement their food would be there shortly.
Sanemi relaxed, satisfied.
Then a small chuckle rose in pitch until Iguro was rolling on the floor, laughing at him.
"Shut up! I'm not the one who was nuzzling into Tomioka's neck!"
Iguro sniffed in disdain, sitting up, "His glands there aren't damaged. I was making sure his scent wasn't worsening through the night."
"Pfff, excuses."
He avoided the pillow thrown at his head, smirking at Iguro.
"It soured half an hour ago."
The smile on his lips was swept off, replaced with a frown. They both looked outside at the same time, silently agreeing that, despite the height of snow they would be on the move. It had stopped snowing so it was the best time to do it.
"Let's change and eat. We'll take care of him after."
Without much more concertation, they changed the hot compresses on Tomioka's elbows, Sanemi wiped his sweaty face and his neck, quietly content that the omega seemed to follow the cold, then they dressed up.
By the time the woman came back with food, Tomioka had even cracked his eyes open and mumbled words too indistinct to understand. They got him to drink a little then.
After eating in record time, Sanemi shook the black-haired man awake, softly wiped his hot face again, then held him up to fed him some broth. Tomioka tried once to hold the bowl by himself, but only managed to make himself cry silent tears as his arms shook.
"Don't push yourself, idiot," Sanemi grumbled, the feverish body leaning into him making memories of his siblings rein onto his natural hot-headedness. "Enough? Don't worry, we're going to Shinobu."
He glanced at Iguro who was finishing his own food. It wasn't good that a hashira couldn't even stay awake for a full meal. Even a meal as meagre as a bowl of broth.
Manhandling the omega, Sanemi started removing the yukata, wincing in sympathy when Tomioka cried out when his arms were knocked or moved. Iguro pretended to be busy until even his antisocial nature couldn't support it and he came to help. It didn't assuage the growing unease of Sanemi's at being unable to protect a wounded omega.
Sometimes, their instincts were shitty.
"That's a little undressed for a sick person," Iguro pointed out when Tomioka was back in his uniform, while Sanemi picked up the man's fallen handkerchief, slipping it into his pocket. "Kocho will kill us if he arrives like this."
If Tomioka didn't die on the way.
They had already given Sanemi's coat to Giyuu, but he was still shaking. Shaking more than his decrepit crow nesting into his scarf. He'd also woke up, visibly confused and unable to focus on forming words. He still insisted to walk on his own feet, though he leaned all his weight on Sanemi.
At the entrance, they found a goodbye party; the owners handed them a coat to lay on the omega while their daughter gave food for their trip. An old sweet couple wrapped another scarf around Tomioka's head and gave him some leather-bound hand warmers. Yet, it wasn't all. When they saw Sanemi without coat, the old man handed his to him.
Sanemi let Iguro talk to them, his words batted by the wind of yesterday snowstorm at the show of kindness. He didn't deserve it and he was going to say so when the grandma pinched his cheek:
"How will you get him to a doctor if you're dead from hypothermia?"
He swallowed back his disagreement, nodding. Finally, they opened the door and were met with snow up to their – his, not Iguro's – knees. Small snowflakes were still falling, yet slower than during the night.
"Fuck you're not walking in that, Tomioka."
"No objection," Iguro snorted, motioning at the man.
Sanemi tilted his head to see past the dark spikes, falling onto a beautiful face lax with sleep. Convenient, he thought, moving to take the warm body into a bridal carry. Tomioka's head rolled into his neck, warm breath tickling his skin. The crow made more fuss, but shut up when Iguro forced it into Tomioka's coat and closed it back.
Iguro walked over the snow, his lithe body making him barely sink in the icing cover. They exchanged a look, both aware of the advantage of speed he currently had.
"Yeah, go."
"I'll warn Kocho of your arrival, there'll be someone to take over."
One nod and the snake hashira was gone, the kind people behind murmuring in worry at his apparent abandonment. Sanemi thanked them curtly once more then he was out in the cold, trotting to keep a good pace, but not exhaust himself yet. It was a game of stamina rather than speed, especially as he struggled against the snow blanket.
Against him, Tomioka was a dead, feverish weight. At time, his eyes rolled and small whimpers escaped his cracked lips, but the more Sanemi advanced, the quieter he was. Sanemi kept a steady pace up until the warm breath against his neck turned ragged, holding too long, and exhaling in bursts.
Even trembling from exertion, hands and lungs burned by the cold, he pushed harder onto his icy feet with sheer obstinacy. He ignored the pain of hundreds of sharp needles on his toes and focused on breathing. He ran as if an upper-moon was on their tail, his muscles screaming under the effort.
"Fuck, fuck, don't do that Tomioka," he called, arms twinging under the dead weight. "You fuck, don't ever stop breathing. You know how to breath, right? Fuck you're a hashira. Tomioka, Tomioka."
The cold air had his eyes dry up, tears springing forth to compensate. His heart was running wild, pressing onto his ribs like hands trying to open him up from the inside. Each of his deep inhale had a mix of fierce cold mixed with the omega's sick scent filling his lungs. Each breathe was torturous, his brain focusing solely on the wrongness of such a scent. Each breathe filled him with the energy to go further.
He could do it.
Fear told another story. The omega in his arms was struggling. As an alpha, as an older brother, as a hashira, he was letting down someone else. He was failing again.
"Shinazugawa!"
Among the white fog of the day, the familiar voice of Rengoku had his heart leapt out of his throat. He rushed to the silhouette blanketed by swirling snow, coming to a stop, and nearly falling on a knee. He couldn't allow Tomioka to fall, though, and held steady.
When he transferred the omega, there was a hitch. Letting go was hard. The cold had surely set in, blocking his fingers, but a little heave from Rengoku had Tomioka's face nestled in his neck.
Sanemi didn't know what he really felt; a gnawing sense of jealousy, or relief that Tomioka was in good hands. He nearly stopped breathing when hazy blue eyes blinked up at him. It was silly; Tomioka surely didn't even realise what was going on, let alone look specifically at him.
"I'll take it from here! Good work, my friend!"
From one blink to the next, the flame hashira had leapt a dozen metres. Oh, he was giving his all, Sanemi thought, hands twitching over emptiness, nose sniffing over the icy air.
He stood there like an idiot until a kakushi came to his side to escort him back to the butterfly estate.
All the while he could only think of the omega he let go off.
ǁ
After his own visit to the butterfly estate to treat the start of hypothermia plus a few frostbitten fingers and toes, Sanemi was kicked out of the mansion. Before then he'd grabbed one of the small girl – Kiyo – holding her up under her armpits until she broke patient confidentiality about Tomioka's state. As she recounted, Rengoku had been quick and closed the distance in half the time Sanemi did. In addition, Shinobu was prepared thanks to Iguro so Tomioka had been seen to immediately. When Sanemi left Tomioka was resting, pumped full of medicine, in crisis but under constant watch.
Sanemi had rested at home for a night then taken new missions since feelings of guilt and worry wasn't an excuse to slack off. However, he found himself itching to know how Tomioka was. Even the small handkerchief he'd kept from Tomioka had lost its faint scent with the strange comfort it gave him. Hence, he'd bullied a scholar in a city to write a short letter for him since he didn't know how. It was addressed to Shinobu and only received a curt answer about either visiting or not bothering her.
He sat in an inn bedroom mumbling curses at the woman.
By the time he returned to the wind estate, a little bit more than one week had passed in silence. Sanemi's agitation had shot like an arrow in the air. What if Shinobu was irritable because Tomioka's state was worse than thought? What if she couldn't help him? What if she was currently mourn-
He bodily threw himself sideway on the tatami of his house, the loud 'twunk' causing an attendant come check on him. They found him with his head under a vest, so they left him to his familiar stormy glooming. Sanemi couldn't accept he'd been too slow yet again. No, he'd done his best so the omega had to be fine.
He groaned onto the ground, "This shit is more of a headache than fighting demons."
"Someone's gets the door!" he heard after a knock.
Back on his feet, he wondered if Iguro was dropping by to do his usual dance of praising Mitsuri while belittling himself until Sanemi growled, ruffled the wrong way by how Iguro saw himself. It caused him urges to tackle Iguro and rough him up until he said at least one nice thing to himself. Sometimes, he felt like a brother to an incompetent little brother. (The pang at his heart was familiar.)
Scratching his stomach with a yawn, he opened the door wide only to freeze.
"Tomioka."
There he stood, silent under the heaves of the gate blanketed in snow, his face pale as creamy white jade, his charming ocean blue eyes clear as summer days and his hair having served as the butterfly girls' toy. It was up higher than normal, a sober butterfly pin holding it in a bun that started to undo itself with the day's activities. The small snowfall doted his hair with ephemeral touch of brightness.
But, what had Sanemi's heart turn on its head was the smell of pine needles left to roast in a bonfire that invaded his senses. The famously absent smell of the beta Tomioka was replaced with a faint, sure, but present aura.
Somehow, Sanemi's hand came to adjust his yukata to close it self-consciously.
"You- uh, you look fine."
He physically felt his soul depart his body at his awkwardness. Thankfully, it was Tomioka Giyuu in front of him and not a more socially apt man. The omega nodded, extending his arms to show off a box and, under, Sanemi's coat.
"I've came to give it back," Tomioka looked aside, either cold or embarrassment dusting his cheeks with a faint flush. "I, uh, there's ohagi too. I heard…"
He trailed off, voice becoming soft. Sanemi's face turned hot for no reason. So what? Tomioka knew his favourite food, no big deal. Then, he noticed the small tremor in Tomioka's arms.
"Did you fucking run off the butterfly estate?" he asked, tearing the box and coat out the man's arms. Tomioka startled, his face twisting with either pain or anger. "Are you still sick? It's still snowing out, are you mad!"
"I'm fine-"
"Cut it." Sanemi decided not to believe him, grabbing onto the smaller – by a few centimetres. It counted! – man's uniform. "You're going to sit in the warm while I ask Shinobu if you're allowed outside. No argument!"
Tomioka faltered on his words, his eyes widening with obvious surprise. That his expressions were this obvious had Sanemi internally thrilled. Finally, he managed to get a reaction! It only had taken a few years and shifting gear from yipping at him to forcing his care onto him.
Well.
"Sit, don't move." Inside, he pointed a menacing finger at the man who looked around the room where Sanemi had just been moping in. "I was going to eat soon. You too, now."
Tomioka opened his mouth, hands jerking a little, "I don't want to impose-"
"You're not imposing if I'm ordering you to eat here," Sanemi dropped his coat around, leaving the box on the small table in the middle, still full of a tea set. "Serve yourself." He paused. "If… you loath the idea of staying… well, I understand I wasn't- I was-… I am a bastard so… just stay eat. I won't bother you during the meal if you want."
He closed the sliding door hard enough to rattle the house, the look of pure awe on the pretty face seared into his brain. Fuck.
Purposefully, he took his sweet time asking a servant to write a letter to Shinobu, spent a moment walking back and forth, hand on his face so no one could – hopefully – notice how warm it was, then passed through the kitchen to tell the girl here there was one more mouth to fed.
He returned with soft feet so his presence wouldn't be noted too soon. Perhaps Tomioka would forget about being manhandled by then.
They both froze when he opened onto Tomioka with his face very close to the vest he'd worn earlier when cold. His pale face flushed prettily.
"I, I was folding it."
"Yeah," his voice was rough. He cleared it. "Sure, okay. The bath will be ready soon, so if you want to warm up- uh, I'll have a yukata for you. Also, here; I'd forgotten to give it back to you."
He thrusted his hand forward with the cleaned up handkerchief embroidered of waves and his initials. During the week following Tomioka's collapse, Sanemi found himself acting like a lovesick fool, taking a sniff of an item from his beloved when feeling down. Except he'd accidentally stolen the handkerchief and Tomioka wasn't his beloved.
It had still soothed his anxieties when he wondered about the omega's health.
Tomioka took the item with both hands, a blank expression on his face, except for the slight widening of his beautiful eyes. Those hands weren't so different from Sanemi's own; almost the same width, a little smaller, though with longer fingers, calloused and full of small scars, and yet they had something attractive.
The omega bowed his head shortly in a silent thanks, eyes dropping with the move, then seeking Sanemi's as he looked up. He'd never noticed how expressive those eyes were, but he read a certain confusion and questioning now. Sanemi purposefully cut through the dense air that formed.
He had to have a servant show Tomioka around so he could stay put to process it all. It wasn't true, his mind was playing tricks on him; Tomioka hadn't been sniffling his vest, right? Sanemi had been an ass to the omega out of a need to hackle him into reactions. Yet, both Iguro and him hadn't acted like people who hated Tomioka; they'd jumped into helping without a second thought – or a third, in Iguro's case. Now, Sanemi also knew that Tomioka wasn't purposefully covering his scents like some people of little honour did. In fact, as an omega with damaged scent glands, the alphas the like of Sanemi and Iguro where the kind to avoid at all cost.
Thinking about it, the others hashira didn't really have bad things to say about him. Shinobu and Kanroji actually liked talking to him and Rengoku often tried to invite him for food. Though, with little results as Rengoku was also a powerful and boastful alpha. Tomioka was asocial with the hashira pack, but not aggressive nor defensive. It was a strange neutral position toward a pack but then again Sanemi remembered Iguro saying that some families, or even communities would dare hurt an omega. Suddenly Tomioka's refusal to get close made a lot of sense.
Well, fuck.
"Is Giyuu not out of the bath?" he asked a passing servant. She shook her head, hesitating before saying she'd heard a whimper. "Fuck, he better not have slipped and knocked himself out. He's a damn hashira."
He muttered half-hearted complains up to the bath-door, "Oi, Tomioka! Are you stuck or what?"
There was no immediate answer, nor did he hear any move inside. Worry started to creep up on him when Tomioka opened the door, his wet hair down causing humid patches on his shoulders. Sanemi found himself mourning the hairdo the three girls of the butterfly estate surely had bullied Giyuu into. It displayed his neck wonderfully. However, it was traded for something else. The omega wore one of the house guests yukata; it carried some of Sanemi's own candied ginger and white lavender tea scent, now mixing with Giyuu's own.
Sanemi unconsciously took a deep breath, appreciating the smell that met his nose. A rush of appeasement came over him as if their mixed scent settled the fear he'd carried since handing Tomioka to another.
The way Tomioka held his forearms slightly outward, sleeves up to his elbow caught his attention.
"I accidentally soaked the bandages," Giyuu said. "I was trying to…"
He snorted, reaching out to delicately pull an arm toward him. Gently, he lifted the hem of the sleeve and noted the stitched skin, apparently having been victim to more cutting than Iguro's home-made job.
"I'll take care of that. Leave your clothes here. The servants will have them in your room."
He guided the omega back to the main room where he was satisfied to see both his vest and Tomioka's haori hung out of the way. One servant he'd harangued on the way here reached them with the bandages he'd asked, plus a letter from Shinobu with some unguent. He read the curt letter demanding he keep the 'stray' escaping her house every time she caught him, with instructions about taking care of 'it'. Meanwhile, Tomioka fidgeted with the hem of the lent yukata.
Taking pity, Sanemi handed him the letter, noting a slight upright to his lips as he read, while he took charge of putting some unguent on the still reddened skin all around Tomioka's elbows. It felt natural to do so, no awkwardness or irritation. Then the softness of such an intimate place caught up to Sanemi.
Tomioka's hands weren't hurt either. He didn't need help for the unguent.
"Ngh," the sound of pain from Giyuu had Sanemi nearly stopping breathing. He stopped unconsciously tightening his grip.
"Sorry!"
"It's alright, Shinazugawa."
"Sanemi," he cut, his face aflame. Thankfully, he could keep his face down, his hands fumbling a little as he fastened the bandages. "I mean… you. I spent a night taking care of you so, uh, I feel like I understand you better."
That made no sense! He yelled to himself, then, when Giyuu nodded, he groaned. Tomioka was an intelligent omega, he shouldn't fall for the first alpha's fumbling!
"You can call me Giyuu."
Maybe Giyuu was as dumb as Misturi, then, Sanemi decided. He couldn't find in himself to be annoyed at it. Ironic, knowing that Giyuu breathing had had him near angry apoplexies in the past. But with those scars under his eyes, scars of more meaning than all the cuts on his arms; scars holding the emotional impact of the ones on his face, changing his mind was natural.
"What happened?"
The softness of his own voice had it sound alien. For a second, it wasn't him who'd asked, but a stranger. Tomioka, warm, smelling of pine needles and bonfire, inhaled slowly, his body tensing up.
Sanemi finished the first bandage, keeping his head low, "Sorry, I didn't want to pry."
"When I was ten my sister was killed by a demon-"
"My family too," Sanemi added after a silence.
Giyuu found his courage, "-and the village accused me."
Their eyes met when Sanemi's surprise had him looking up. Demons' murders weren't clean, the only other thing comparable was a mother bear defending a cub, making sure the hunter walking the mountain couldn't survive. Then again, such deaths resembled an interrupted demon feast.
"Were they fucking dumb?"
The soft face of Giyuu broke into an amused smile. All the ice over his expressions melted into a warmth that caused butterflies to fly in the middle of winter. Sanemi noticed how close they were, breathes mingling, the warm air from the other touching his cheek.
"Perhaps." As Sanemi forced himself to start on the other arm, Giyuu's talking had some breathes hitting onto his hair. "Some crimes are punished with destruction of your identity – removal of your scent – and exile."
The confession had Sanemi nauseous. It was impossible to confuse a demon attack with anything remotely human shaped, let alone a kid of Tomioka's age. Ludicrous wasn't strong of a word for the idea. No, Sanemi might not be a genius, or well learnt, but a group of adults removing the scent glands of a young omega who would be exiled? Perhaps not everyone was in on the idea, but someone had an ulterior motive.
A calloused finger followed Sanemi's own onto the right scar he'd been massaging with Shinobu's unguent. He inhaled sharply as their hands brushed.
"This… I did it myself." Sanemi's hands tightened over the muscled arm, then released. "When I lost my first… mn, friend, I thought I caused his death like I caused my sister. Somehow-"
"Bullshit!"
Tomioka shrugged, "So I decided my scent should reflect my crime. I made better work than the villagers. On the left Shinobu removed some scaring? I think. Well, I have more of a scent again."
"I like it, so don't go fuck it up again."
The omega shifted, his cheeks dusted pink, "I always liked Sanemi's scent too."
A sound like a wounded dog died on the back of Sanemi's throat, "Don't say that. I've been terrible and now just because I saw some damn scars, I'm acting like a decent fucking person."
He made sure to cover the bandages well with the yukata's sleeves and instinctively patted the calloused hands resting gently on Giyuu's knees. Swifts as changing currents, they turned around and caught him, squeezing once.
When he looked up, Giyuu might not have been smiling, but his whole demeanour was open, his beautiful deep blue eyes perceptive. Sanemi was pinned under this gaze, warm hands gently holding his.
"I've seen yours too, but I'm not good at being a person."
And he put faith in Giyuu; he believed that he'd seen Sanemi, his scars and the depth of them, the ones he was proud off and those that only reminded him of his weakness; he understood that Giyuu had forgotten how to be a person between the death of his sister and him losing his scent. Yet, Giyuu had judged him deserving. At this moment, Sanemi concluded Giyuu was a very lovable idiot, when you got to know him.
Lips turning into a smile, he squeezed Giyuu's hands back, heart soft. He wanted to try again to be his friend. Or more, considering the rising flush on those pale features.
ǁ