Chapter Text
"Are you still asleep?... Good. Don't let me wake you. I need someone to talk to and it can't wait until morning, otherwise I run the risk of changing my mind... This recurring dream is keeping me up. I'm so sick and tired of it following me. Sorry for burdening you like this-- as an older sister, you probably deal with people confiding in you all the time. Thankfully, neither of us will have to endure the back-and-forth of conversation. You don't have to feign worry or somberness for me. I don't have to ignore your winces of judgment when we're at odds. Maybe I'll be able to sleep, and we can forget this ever happened. Either way, I need it out of my head.
"I'm often dropped into this other life without any preparation, but I won't do that to you. I've collected a framework of details that structure the dream, courtesy of its frequent visits... It starts with a young woman, born in an isolated town on the back of a desolate mountain where she lived all her life.
"The mother didn't realize she'd been carrying a child until she was showing, and hadn't the faintest idea of who the firstborn's father was. What her body produced was something tender when she'd desired something powerful--someone that could care for her and improve her standing-- so she responded by naming the baby Aguri. 'No thank you, do better next time.'
"The next pregnancy carried more promise-- this beau was a doctor, albeit a married man planning to leave his ailing wife with their four useless sons. Aguri's mother had hallucinated a rosy future where the new fetus signified change, as a ray of light does in the dark. What bitter disappointment, when the wife's health improved, the sons married well, and the bastard infant came out wrong. Again. Thr predetermined name for this one was far prettier: Hinata.
"These siblings weren't the same as you and Tetsuya. They were a year's age apart and their camaraderie did not come easily. Actually the mother took some joy in pitting the two against one another, dangling her affections over their heads like a prize to be won by destroying the competition. The oldest benefited from age and experience but was quick to emotional outbursts, crying fat frustrated tears rather than articulating their arguments-- such pathetic behavior was an automatic failure. Not only that, they were so clumsily gullible that one only needed to stick out a foot and offer a half-baked lie about it being accidental, and Aguri would fall for both.
"Hinata was the wittier child-- they could tell a lie so intricate and believable that even adults would parrot misinformation spread by the impish liar, though not a single individual would ever trust or believe a word from their mouth directly. Their face was plain and growth was stunted. It was hard to get the nutrients they needed; they were a picky eater with a picky digestive system.
"As the years passed, any viable way of life for future villagers dwindled. Wild game was somehow spooked from the once-bursting habitat. The earth that once nurtured modest farms produced rot and root only found in evil-salted lands. Food had to be rationed and shared as the people became reliant on trade; this massive strain was further exacerbated by the day-and-a-half trek to the nearest town, weather permitting.
"The children matured and developed awareness of their situation: how blurry their fates looked on the skyline despite the world shrinking rapidly. Conflict and fear was not their only compatibility. When Hinata hungered for fruit, Aguri would begrudgingly chew the peel to an edible paste, allowing the youngest their greed. Aguri was once mugged by bullies, but Hinata swindled the thieves of what was taken and shoved the loot into stupified palms. A natural mutualism formed; their mother had given up the tedious task of pitting them against one another. Hungry brats were easy to control until they became smart. Then they became resentful. They became trouble. So she decided to run away on her own. The traveling doctor and his litter of labor hands would ferry anyone who could pay. She invested what little she had into an official check-up and dreamt of a new life in a faraway place... Yoshiwara, a district of satisfaction and indulgence, where she would be performing the same work she'd always done, with better prospects of making money and attracting a marriage candidate.
"Aguri, who had never given their mother reason to suspect them before, tailed her and reported her doctor's visit to Hinata. Together, they discussed her fatal betrayal; neither child would survive the remaining winter without a suitable protector. Upon her return, Aguri begged their mother to reconsider only for her to cheerily placate them with promises of letters and money. Hinata had told Aguri beforehand this would happen-- that pleading for sympathy would do no good-- and they were proven right. Thankfully, the clever little sibling had a backup plan.
"Shortly after she slipped out of their ramshackle hut for good, the children began ripping apart all the worn, dirty bedding and swaddling their limbs generously. They followed her again, this time to the wagon line where other women and their baggage were being loaded. The children sequestered themselves among the goods and by early morning, the caravan set out none the wiser.
"An unexpected snow fell onto the dangerously eroded path. The traveling doctor suggested turning back, but he was noisily outweighed by the women begging him to press on. Surely the sky would clear closer to the mountain base no matter how long it snowed. There was nothing worth going back for.
"The adult sons clamored and argued as they bribed the horses to ford the cold and kept the wagon wheels clear. Anytime the grumbling voices drifted away, the stowaway siblings murmured in conversation. Aguri wondered in a whisper if anyone would miss them; Hinata revealed that the other children merely tolerated the siblings. At best they taunted Aguri, mocking and berating them in such a kind tone that the dimwit hardly understood their intentions. Such a revelation had the unintended effect of hurting their older sibling's feelings.
"Hinata assured their company that it was all behind them; they were better off conserving their energy for the trip. They instead planned for the future: the places they would go, the people they would meet, and the possibilities they would seize. Hinata curled tightly into an adorable pillbug shape to prevent heat from escaping as they drifted into a well-earned slumber. Aguri, reinspired with the promise of tomorrow, slept shortly after.
"After the sun sank below the horizon, somewhere in the throes of sleep, that darling little pillbug must have rolled right out the back of the overfilled cart. It was the most obvious explanation for how they ended up in the snow. Something jostled the cart so viciously that they fell: their foot tangled in some of the tarp covering, and a deluge of supplies came tumbling after the child in gleeful escape. The son in charge of lugging their cart hollered, trying to get the line to stop for him.
"The siblings were shocked awake, but Aguri-- too stupid to register danger, too reactive to bother thinking-- leapt out, scooped the precious cargo into their arms, and stuffed Hinata back into their hiding place. By then, the pilgrims were abuzz with annoyance, and the son was circling the cart. Aguri dove under the wagon and clung to its undercarriage.
"With great tedium, the man merely piled the fallen goods onto his unnoticed stowaway, ensuring the children's separation. Hinata could impart no wisdom without being heard, and Aguri couldn't think through the cold. The man shouted out his brothers' names. He darted around the cart to intercept someone, or something, but suddenly the man was struck and sent flying so hard into the wagon that either wood or bone broke. It nearly tipped. He crashed to the ground, body prone and twitching.
"Aguri made the briefest eye contact with the son--eyes flashing with an animal horror-- before the outline of his skull splattered out like a half-squashed orange. His hands liquified in their sleeves, blood hissing with some aborted chemical reaction.
"The terrified child flailed their way out from under the cart in the opposite direction. Screams multiplied as though a pack of wolves had descended on the group; the wind howled so loudly with pain that it was impossible to identify the danger or consider helping victims. Aguri spotted Hinata fleeing their cranny, a brash burst of limbs and yelps, and chased after their fleeing form.
"Dreams have such flimsy membranes; it's the only thing that gives them away. I become so wrapped up in the moment though, it's easy for me to forget where the running thread is meant to blend into a tapestry. Sometimes the mountain becomes more familiar to me, squatting like old Fuji and launching into me into our Final Selection stories. That's another garment entirely. Other times I remain under the cart as the petrified Aguri, witnessing the carnage and unable to see or protect myself even if I wanted to. I hallucinate Muzan's legs; he strides past the gorey piles, off the path, and into the night. The snowfall gives him no impairment. He could have found the kids easily, but the attack wasn't even worth the effort to ensure everyone was dead-- the survivors would surely be enrichment for his new playthings. Once Aguri's fear subsides and mine takes the reins, I hunt him with such a manic frenzy that I hardly care about dying in such a confrontation-- of course, he's not there.
"I find you, instead. Another thread. Another tapestry."
"All that matters is that Aguri lost Hinata in the mountain pass: their compulsive tears salted and refroze the tracks on their cheeks. Because they had no better ideas, they returned to the wagon line and looked for bodies in the numbing cold, calling out names until their throat cracked and bled. Even their irrational mind was aware that no untrained human could tolerate severe weather for so long: frostbite, snow blindness, and general suffering are strong deterrents to bravery. Hinata was not of the dead yet, but Aguri chose to forfeit them anyway.
"The selfish coward backtracked the path to the village before collapsing somewhere along the way. Their moment of weakness was enough for their hunter to finally catch up. It dug them out of the shell-encrusted snowbank and snuffled at Aguri's ear, jolting them to life with the expectation they were actively being eaten. But to their joyous surprise, it was Hinata who'd clawed them from the cold. Aguri embraced their only family member: filthy, shivering, and covered in sticky blood. Stunned and mildly amnesiac, Hinata was unharmed, thankfully... though, they complained of hunger pains, and Aguri was suffered to live a little longer and ensure their sibling's survival; the mountain itself was everhungry, devouring lost travelers in its idle eternity.
"Despite the pressure of their duty, Aguri had barely enough energy to walk with a helpful Hinata under their arm. They returned to the massacre site, where the dug-up bodies had been eviscerated. Even the horses were reduced to piles of steaming meat. Hinata placed the shivering Aguri on the doctor's cart, sloppily swallowing fistfuls of hot flesh while forcefeeding their ailing comrade raw strips.
"The moth-eaten fabric of this dream is already so worn thin, I may as well offer you my elaborations: the siblings decided against returning to the town together. Before the sun rose it became apparent that something was terribly wrong with Hinata. Their lost memories indicated a head injury, although their body was completely unharmed. Their favored fruit made them nauseous, and they held an unspeakable craving. They would not tell Aguri whose blood had to be cleaned off their skin. Aguri was far too weak to brave the wilderness and seek help alone-- without proper care and rest, the frigid temperature kept threatening their life. Most of all, both knew that whatever attacked the caravan was still out there. Their chances were less slim if they remained united.
"They must have struck a terse compromise-- I can't see how else they survived so long together. The stronger eldest scavenged the dead. The sharper youngest kept watch. Aguri would avert their eyes when Hinata lingered too close to an excavated body. Hinata wouldn't fuss at having to carry Aguri when the frozen night inevitably sapped their strength. When Hinata felt unsafe, Aguri found a new temporary shelter. When Aguri couldn't find food, Hinata left mysterious game for them to eat. The two did whatever it took to avoid being found by whatever was out there and never once spoke against one another, despite the meaningless of it all. Working together under a cover of patchwork promises was never going to keep the truth away.
"Aguri was miserable in this nocturnal hell where they were unable to keep their senses between darkness and illness. With every dead body found, they woefully succumbed to the misery that was their life: always on the move with a backwards glance and never warming one spot too long. Their mood became sullen and lackluster by default. One night, they asked Hinata when the child would put their explorations to good use and guide the duo off the mountain, per their original plan.
"For some reason, this incensed Hinata. Maybe they'd fallen in love with this new lifestyle-- traveling all night, sleeping all day, offering warmth and advice, receiving purpose and voice-- and for their beloved eldest to dismiss it so cruelly hurt them. Hinata nastily assured Aguri that when dead bodies stopped appearing, they would be free of the mountain. Aguri anticipated a long-awaited, oversweetened release; ever exploitable, they failed to recognize the loop holes in in the promise. After all, their perfect escape included Hinata. The older sibling daydreamed of employment that would allow them to gorge their dependent with unlimited access: a butcher, or executioner. Perhaps, like with Hinata's former diet, there was medicine to curb the symptoms and ease the effects. Whatever it took, Aguri would persevere until they found peace with their loved one in perfect impunity.
"What naïvete. Let me remember what that kind of intoxicating optimism feels like...
"...
"... Hinata guided Aguri to a body that night: the man's long eyelashes hadn't even frosted yet. Although Hinata had cleaned their hands and mouth, the cause of death was apparent... it had been all along, but the fool kept looking away when the truth inconvenienced them. Aguri couldn't explain how cavernous and empty the epiphany made them feel. They'd humored the morbid dig sites, the disorienting scrambles, and the uncanny offerings up until now. This was the breaking point, the very summit of what they could tolerate: Hinata's blatant lying and complete aloofness to consequence, regarding Aguri's respect.
"The mind is incredible, how it retains some of the strangest details while distorting innocuous rules of reality. My perspective dips into the snow as though I exist beneath it all, or I am overhead like a circling vulture waiting for the aftermath. The siblings argued viciously with one another-- Aguri demanded to be taken seriously and Hinata laughed at the concept. Who kept their body moving with the little treasure hunts? Was Aguri even aware of all the deaths they'd narrowly avoided thanks to a nocturnal guard? Where did they think the mystery meat came from? What self-respecting person couldn't help-- much less control-- the young they were responsible for?
"Aguri fought back angry tears, teetering on the edge of an altercation. All at once they were aware of how much the scale tipped against their favor, but they couldn't hold their tongue. They said what was on their mind: they liked Hinata better before. In the wilderness they'd become so numb and dulled that they hardly felt alive. Hinata had turned Aguri into a stupid work horse-- they would rather die than be burdened with caring for such a manipulative brat.
"Hinata erupted in temper and height-- while their abilities hadn't developed fully, an unconscious desire to win lended them intuitive control. They stampeded Aguri over, wrenching wrists and nearly dislocating their shoulders. The furious creature raised writhing fingers up to their mouth and bit down.
"... The thing about their compromise is that Aguri knew they were never safe. Though they didn't suspect Hinata would try to eat them, an intangible insect kept crawling under their skin, always aware of how vulnerable and fleshy they were. Their itching nervous system lended them to catastrophizing and fantasizing about where the next ambush could come from... so they'd taken to hiding knives in their clothes in case they needed it. A quick slash across the throat might spare some pain."
The voice pauses to gasp. Someone swallows and sniffs. "I'm okay. Sorry." Then they whisper again, "I'm okay.
"... A mere gash didn't kill Hinata, of course, only infuriated and distracted them. Aguri scrambled away and absconded, clutching their bleeding hand to their chest. The hysterical idiot didn't even know where to go, and their sibling's rage shifted into woe. Hinata begged Aguri not to leave them behind, and that's all it took to stop the chase. Aguri turned around just in time to see the a flash of flamelight behind Hinata's silhouette.
"They felt it: a thin metal working itself between vertebrae, cleanly severing the fibrous braid. Hinata's head fell from their shoulders and Aguri was certain theirs fell too. The dark sky dipped into view as the universe tilted on its side." The voice cracks and there are more sniffles. Her visitor muffles their misery into a closed fist. With an abrupt change of heart and a sharp exhale, the speaker concludes: "They die and that's the end." There is a shuffling of fabric as they drag their crutch closer and get to their feet. "I'm sorry. This was a useless plan after all."
Junko's hand sprouts from beneath her covers and snares their ankle before they can retreat. "That's no way to end a story," she reprimands inoffensively.
"What?" they squawk, their tibial artery leaping with the scare of being caught red-handed dumping their secrets into her lap.
She resists the urge to let them go, even though their muscles twinge with need to run and hide from her. "No wonder this nightmare keeps coming back for you. Everyone knows that the only way to undo a bad dream is to give it a better ending."
They blink curiously down at her. "Really? That's all?"
"That's all." She can't help her morbid curiosity: she already knows what becomes of the wretch, but she wants to see it through their eyes, hear it in their words. Everyone wants to show her their best side and see only their goodness reflecting off of her... with this one person, she can be honest about what she perceives. Brutally so. And she knows they will take her advice to action.
"It's not... one of those stories."
"I want to hear it anyway."
The visitor hesitates, mulling over this new discovery-- now that Junko is awake, there's no reasonable doubt behind her reactions. What good was it to pretend the dream was excisable, anyway? They return to their seated position by her futon, and she rolls onto her side with her back to them. It's the least she can do to make their confession easier.
"Try again," she instructs bluntly. "Hinata was decapitated."
The orator struggles resuming from that part. "... Y-yes."
"Aguri too?" She offers them a chance to revise.
"... No. They just fainted. Between sleep deprivation, temperature exhaustion, and hunger weakness, the distress was too much for them. Rather than falling into the snow, their body became weightless. A man's voice told them they were alright, asked their name. They lost consciousness to the fever.
"When they finally awoke two days later, their body was clean and warm, clothed in gently used hand-me-downs and tucked delicately in fluffy blanket layers. The room had furniture and lacked holes or pests. Dreams and memories were all hazy flakes swirling in their mind, and they dozed until their visitor arrived. They recognized the heat of his presence and the tenderness in his tone as he apologized for his absence. He'd been making a final report about the last demon, but now he suspected the coast was clear, and they were owed some answers. He introduced himself and asked their name. They asked him what a demon was."
Junko listens to her company shift in their seat: she imagines them moving their legs out from under them, half-leaning onto a propped arm. "... Aguri had never heard of one before that night. There was the inherent understanding that it was bad, and that nobody wanted to become one. So they had the man extrapolate on the nature of such a beast: once human but now corrupted and ravenous, sinister simulacrums that could only live in the dark and feed on the offal of their former species. The only way they could be cured was to cut off their head.
"All figments were fact. Aguri had to contend with the contradictions, staring at their evidential hands... the weeping came quickly. Their tale wove erratically between hiccups and sobs as they insisted that they too were a demon-- the children ate, traveled, laughed, cried, argued, and slept together, after all. If Hinata had to die, then Aguri needed to follow on principle--"
"Did Aguri tell the man that they'd helped supply the demon with bodies?" she interrupts. Silence. She slowly lifts her head. "What about the rations that Hinata left for them? Did Aguri come clean about any of that?"
"... No."
"And they even lied when they told him their name. Interesting." A humored chuckle slips into the spaces of her words. "Their sibling would have been proud."
"It was disgraceful," they admit ashamedly, "... and quite ungrateful. The man, a father and widower, patiently listened to their nonsensical babbling before calmly offering clarity to the child's confusion. Bundling Aguri in a blanket so as not to catch their death, he walked them to the window and opened it: the brilliant sunlight illuminated heavy-fallen snow, wiping clean the blood that had been spilled. 'So long as you can feel the sunrise,' the man told them, 'rest assured that you are human.' And so Aguri was given another chance: to serve humanity in recompense for all the evil they'd done."
Junko waits. "That's it?"
They tilt their head, she imagines. "What do you mean?"
"I suppose it's a happy enough ending for the Corps," she muses, "but you didn't sound very happy telling it."
"... I'm not. I hate Aguri. Why did they defend their life so vehemently if they wanted to die anyway? Why lie to the man that saved them?" They sigh, rocking to and fro languidly with a slight bend and unbend of their arm.
She reaches back to blindly squeeze their knee and they tense, ready for an impact. False comfort will only salt their wound so she doesn't bother lying to them. "You were weak and frightened. You missed her."
"... It wouldn't have saved her, but then she wouldn't have died alone. I should have trusted her." Their voice hitches and Junko recognizes the twang of remorse. "We were close to the base of the mountain-- why else would we be there if she hadn't changed her mind?"
"You don't know that for sure. She attacked you."
"She wouldn't have eaten me. She loved me." Despite the conviction in their voice, she feels their posture slump and muscles clench, like they suddenly had a stomachache. "She was angry-- she just wanted to prove a point and make me listen." Hopeless rationalizations make Junko's heart hurt for the poor doomed fool. She lets them go. The connection is severed, and she can speak frankly again.
"Does it matter how much she cared for you? The Corps would have found her regardless... you weren't in any shape to protect anyone." There is no reply to that. With a sigh she twists her body and props up onto her elbows, shooting them a sleepy glance. "You let her down, and you didn't have a choice in the matter. She was dead the moment Muzan's blood contaminated hers."
"... I don't think that's true," they whisper.
"Why not?"
"It's... she was the same, Junko. Sure, she forgot some things, like her name-- I still forget things-- but she remembered me. She had the same humor, the same voice, same pet peeves. She never shared her food unless she absolutely had to, she had our mother's laugh and--" they stumble over their words then seize the blanket, pleading her not to pull away, "--I'm sorry. It's inane, nevermind me."
Junko catches the grimace that had naturally formed across her face. "No," she mumbles, settling back into place, "I'm the one who's sorry." It still takes getting used to-- this strange empathy from the ones looking in from the outside, those who hadn't had the hard evidence spilled at their feet. Hinata continues to view demonhood as a scale, not a ray stretching infinitely in a single direction. Evil couldn't be negotiated or undone; it was more than a state of being or action.
"I wish I understood," they murmur. "... I let my feelings get the better of me. I know how it sounds-- I just--"
"I get it. You think that, even after demonhood takes root, some small part of the human still exists in them. Right?" She doesn't turn when they don't answer. She sticks her leg out and kicks them gently. "Right?" she echoes, this time a little softer to express she isn't too sore about their differing opinions.
"Yeah..."
"Your account is the first I've heard of a newborn demon not outright murdering a human, sure. But it sounds more like you were a stockpiled morsel. That's common demonic behavior; you just happened to be a willing hostage while you both avoided a larger threat."
"Behavior aside, Junko, I know my sister. It was her. She wasn't some possessed carcass or imposter, she--"
"Hinata." The scathing tone comes so easily-- imbuing the word with disapproval feels like holding a weapon against them, now that Junko knows its origin. She softens her tone. "You didn't kill her. You didn't let her die."
"... Not that time... Kenzou wasn't a demon. He didn't deserve what happened to him."
; "That's a different situation entirely," Junko argues. "We can't hold ourselves guilty for every death at Final Selections. You're not the one who is making demons. All of this is his fault. Not yours."
Hinata, finally exhausted from the discussion, pushes their crutch aside and lays their body on the floor by Junko's mattress. "Of course not. Two siblings from different families die under my watch, but neither case is attributed to my malevolence or incompetence. How convenient."
"I never said you were innocent. Just that you think pretty highly of yourself to shoulder all this blame." Junko flips her sleeping position to the other hip and faces Hinata. Their foot finds hers still exposed to the night air and begins tapping on her to the invisible sync of their hearts. It warms her, though she doubts it's a conscious act.
Hinata sighs heavily. "If a demon can no longer be classified as human, then I don't see how I'm any better... there's something maligned about me, and it can't be fixed with sunlight or a good night's sleep." They tuck their eyes into the crook of their elbow. "How can I be a good Slayer when I keep making the wrong choices and letting those closest to me... die?"
Finally. She's unearthed the seed of their insecurities as a desire to be fixed, of paying back what they owed. They're trying: drowning, flailing, and performing on the fly, but an effort is being made to reach the caliber of their peers while watching fellow chaf be sorted... they don't flinch away anymore, even with their inner peace in tatters. That's all she needs to know.
"You're not alone. I have an evil in me too." Hinata peeks at her attentively. "You noticed before anyone else. Tell me-- have I pitied you once this entire time?"
They contemplate the answer. "... A little..."
"Be honest."
"... No. You get annoyed, and you worry, but you don't feel sorry for me."
"How do you know?" Hinata's brows knit together, unable to meaningfully express why, but Junko already has her suspicions. "Conversation isn't unlike combat," she tells them. "Sometimes you have to feint an attack, or counter a blow. You accused me of pretending to feel sorry for you because you know I'm capable of it. You've seen it for yourself, but you're still wrong." She reaches into Hinata's dark hair and scratches their scalp, messing with the way it falls. "... I put on an act with most people. But I promise I won't do that to you."
Hinata tilts their head into her nails. "... Why do you need to perform? Why can't you just tell them off?"
"Because honesty would be rude. I'm sick of it, truthfully: every other mizunoe I meet just... unloads everything onto me: all their fears, all the death they see, all the dreams they once had. As if I don't deal with the same thing. They put it on me to make them feel better. It's different for you because we've known each other for so long now. But from someone I've met maybe twice? It's too much."
"They must sense you're an older sister too," Hinata comments fondly.
"Well, I'm not their older sister. I don't have strength for everyone." The vitriol with which she spits the words startles her. These emotions that Hinata unspools from her feel alien, but wholly familiar... she feels them every day, but avoids putting them into words. She needs to be likable or else nothing will get done.
Like Hinata, she keeps reliving the same nightmare...
Idly, Junko scratches their head one more time before letting them be. "Don't feel like you can only talk to me in my sleep, okay? Whatever headache you cause me is outweighed by the improvement we can achieve together."
"... Are you sure?" Hinata asks cautiously. "I don't want to impose on you like others do."
"I mean it. In fact... stick around more often if your assignments allow it. I still have more secrets to show you. You'll use them well." She lowers her voice conspiratorially. "Some of them are passed down in the Demon Slayers Corps, like Total Concentration Breathing... they'll make you stronger, cleverer, and faster. Want to learn one right now?" Hinata nods emphatically, and it makes her giggle. "Okay. Close your eyes and lie on your back. Good. Put your palms on the ground and straighten your spine--"
"Is this meditation?"
"You caught me." She gives them a sly grin when they open an eye at her. "Humor me. Meditation is just the first step, and I know you can do it. Easy warm-up."
She watches them for a few minutes. She almost expects them to fall asleep unassisted, but the insomnia persists. Once she places her fingertips on their temple, her body mirrors their vitals. Her theory is confirmed: as she slows her heart, Hinata slows theirs, unconscious of their own power to recognize another's soul. Junko marvels at the receptiveness of their nerves. Their kinesthesia is immaculate... they'll be a perfect candidate for hypnosis. The three-legged stride of their hearts slow as far as she can manage while remaining alert. Hinata's eyelashes flutter with strain, and their lungs wheeze with effort.
"Sleep," she commands.
Hinata's head falls limply to the side. Their Total Concentration Breathing resumes like a deer scarer popping back into its upright position. "Awesome," Junko breathes, then she pats the sleeping Slayer's head. "I think we'll be able to make amazing things happen together, Hinata."