Chapter Text
Sanemi’s never felt alone. No, he has his beloved mother who laughs like a summer breeze and his adorable younger siblings who piled on him like puppies and most of all he has Genya, who’s toothy smile makes him feel so much younger.
Their dad was a pathetic being, always insecure and weak, yelling at him and his siblings about being born and sucking up the money. He remembers his mother covering them with her small body, trying to splay out as far as possible to protect as much of them as she could. She would have her eyes screwed shut and even though the beating she would murmur quietly to her kids, a lullaby passed from her mom.
Sanemi had often seen his mom curled over her work, dutifully and dedicatedly stitching the clothes that her kids wore so that they would be warm. She treasured the small moments, laughing with Hiroshi and Sumi when they showed her the songs they had learned that day. She pressed the flowers Genya found for her and kept them in her books. She adored the hairpin that they had all saved to buy her, working odd little jobs around town.
Sanemi had never been alone because he had his mother and Genya and his siblings, who had all loved him and cherished him.
He knew, perhaps, on that fateful day, because he felt a terrible chill around the sunset. His mother never came home late without warning, always gently patting them on the head in the morning and letting them know she’d be back before nightfall. Sanemi wasn’t the type to be superstitious but he did know that if his mom was late then something was wrong. So he leaned over to Genya who was cradling Sumi and whispered, “Hey, I’m going to look for mom. I’ll be back soon.” Genya had curled his lips into a frown but nodded, determinedly.
He distracted the kids, calling them over to play a game and goofing around. Sanemi loved that about Genya who was always so kind hearted. Stubborn, loving Genya who refused to let their family hurt more than it already had.
We’ll protect them, now that dad’s gone. You ‘n me.
Isn’t that what we’ve always done?
Sanemi left, unarmed. After all, even if the town was dangerous, they were a beloved family. Old man Kurogane with his mustache and his jolly laughter asks if Sanemi wants some chestnuts, fresh roasted. Miss Mitsuki offers to watch his siblings again tomorrow. Kind mister Saruhito tells Sanemi to head home, it’s dark out. He shakes his head and waves them all off with a call, saying he’s looking for his mother. Mitsuki points him to the shop where she sells her hand made stitched flowers. The shopkeeper scratches his head and says that his mother had already headed out.
He feels like he’s making circles around all the usual haunts but eventually he finds her. And oh how he wishes that he didn’t, really. That is not his mother who kisses his siblings to sleep every night. That is not his mother who presses flowers and steams buns for them and wraps them close when it gets cold. And yet those bared fangs are in that mouth, those claws from those hands, the strands of her hair newly freed from their always tied bun.
She – It moves like lightening, darting past him. He knows, instinctively, that he needs to run back home. She wasn’t necessarily headed in that direction but even so, he knows he has to go home. He promised to protect them.
He makes it too late. The door is ajar, ripped open from it’s hinges and Genya is shouting inside. There are no other sounds though, and Sanemi dreads what he will see inside. Instead, he takes a breath, grabbing a nearby butcher’s knife with a shouted apology, and runs, full speed, to slam into their mother and out the window. He catches a glimpse of Genya’s terrified face, spattered with blood and he yells, “GENYA, RUN FOR IT!”
They fall and tumble, Sanemi tucking as he had before when his father shoved them around. He rolls, clumsily, to his feet. There are scratches on his body but not enough to bleed, just to sting. His mother hisses and lunges at him and he flits away from her, leading her down the now emptied street. She snarls and again, Sanemi thinks that this is not his mother who always gently kissed his forehead and would smile on him even as she looked entirely exhausted.
Sanemi, thank you for watching your siblings.
Thank you for making dinner.
Thank you for working so hard.
He can’t hear her soft, so gentle voice in those snarls. Sanemi yelps as her claws scratch him, his face and his shoulder and he stumbles, nearly falling. But this is no time to fall. He pushes off the ground with his hand and pants as he runs, only risking a glance back when he thinks there’s enough space. In fact, his mother is no longer moving at a wolf’s pace, instead crashing into the walls and the ground. She shakes her head, hissing again. What changed? What caused this? Sanemi doesn’t have time to think about it now. No, he can’t let this go on any longer, he has to take advantage of this while he can.
And he does, tackling his mother and pinning her to the ground. His mind flashes back to him wrestling with his siblings who scream with laughter, his mother watching on lovingly. He’d always tickle them when he had them pinned and then he’d dramatically fall back, when they all attacked him at once. He feels something akin to tears although his face isn’t wet with them. It smells like iron.
Red speckles his mother’s face and she’s flailing, clawing his arms and his face. Sanemi feels numb though, as he pins his mother so easily even with her newly found strength. It feels mechanical, as he lifts the blade high above his head and slashes down. She howls, howls in pain and Sanemi feels like he’s being ripped apart. She somehow has enough strength to fling him, and he lands roughly before standing and taking stiff steps towards her now slack body, curled on its side like he’s never seen before. He’s never seen his mother sleep. And now he wishes so badly that he never did.
“MOM!” Genya. Sanemi wants to tell him no, to turn back. Go back to their siblings, go back, don’t look. Don’t see the atrocity he’s committed, holding a dripping knife and his own face torn to ribbons.
But words that don’t leave aren’t heard.
Genya gathers their mom in his arms and sobs, wailing, “WHY! WHY DID YOU KILL MOM!” The agonized screaming claws into Sanemi. To protect you, to protect everyone, Genya I did it for you. His lips are parted but he can only listen to Genya cry and scream, “MURDERER! MURDERERRRR!”
Sanemi knows, that this is only the spouting of a frightened and terrified child. One who can only see what’s given. Sanemi also knows that he no longer has a loving mother who would brush his hair and give him tight hugs. He probably doesn’t have little siblings anymore, who run and shout and tackle him in a pile of love. Sanemi probably doesn’t even have Genya anymore, even though he’s alive.
So he does the only thing he can. He takes the knife and wobbles away, still dripping blood periodically. He walks on the straight path, out of the village center, out of the village lines, into the woods where he was warned never to go alone. It’s dawn, and Sanemi finally sits, staring silently at the glistening dew on the leaves of a flower.
And yet there is no greenery, there is no floral shades of yellow and pink and blue. He can’t even see the bright blue sky he used to play under. There is only grey and black and white, and he’s not even sure if the night is over, until the warmth of the sun bathes his skin. He’s acutely aware of his blood still dripping. The stains on his haori need to be cleaned but he can’t be bothered.
Instead, he just sits there and blankly looks at the sky as the clouds drift across and he feels wetness on his cheeks. Tears, maybe. They’re a little too fluid to be blood, that’s mostly clotted by now anyways. He can’t make any sounds though, not properly like Genya did. All that comes out are these choked little whispers of names now dead, followed by gasps as his lungs quiver from the strain of the night. And there are simply the hiccups of sorrow that fill the morning air, as Sanemi cries.