Genya didn’t know why it hurt so much to breathe.
It wasn’t all the time. But it was more than seemed reasonable - usually, after he trained, or during spring or summer, and when it was too hot, or if he was stressed or angry or excited or if he spent too long in Lord Tengen’s house with all the scented candles lit.
So… yeah. It happened a lot.
Some things, he could control - not going closer than legally necessary to Tengen and the gallon of cologne he dumped over his head every morning. Avoiding emotionally distressing things, like board games, politics, or his brother.
The other things - weather and seasons and training - he couldn’t stop or step out of.
He just had to clench his teeth and keep breathing.
It wasn’t always the easiest.
——
The swordsmith’s village had been an absolute chore to find. And for his solitude to be interrupted by the living embodiment of “Keep Calm and Do Your Best” motivational posters? f*ck that.
Genya couldn’t f*cking deal with that little red haired sh*t and his stupid smiley face.
He didn’t get it. Tanjiro should be angry. He should be broken, torn apart by the deaths of his family, the fate his sister had gotten.
It’s what Genya had felt. And that didn’t even start to pick apart the sheer jealousy he felt, watching Tanjiro splashing around with his sister.
Why hadn’t it been his Mom who kept her humanity like Nezuko? What made them so different? Why didn’t he get to have an older brother who loved him like that- who would fight to protect his family at all costs, instead of the murderer Sanemi pretended he wasn’t?
Grabbing a robe, he walked into the forest, away from the hot springs, and didn’t f*cking look back.
—-
The hot springs were supposed to help with his breathing. Something about the steam, helping clear out whatever gunk made him cough and wheeze during training sessions.
It hadn’t felt helpful - the heat was irritating, and he felt stupid, just sitting there in the water. The only other person he’d seen was the beautiful Love Hashira, and he hadn’t managed to even say hi to her.
Now, he was wishing he’d stayed there.
Anything was better than this - he couldn’t breathe. His chest was so tight from running, body shuddering as his palms dug into the muddy earth. It was too hot, the forest air thick and heavy with pollen and dust.
He was going to die here, wasn’t he?
God f*cking dammit.
His vision was flashing black from the lack of oxygen, gagging from the effort. At it’s worst, sometimes the coughing made Genya throw up.
He hoped it wouldn’t be this time.
Things went red, as a hot flash of pain flooded his chest, momentarily knocking his mind blank. f*ck. f*ck. f*ck. f*ck.
“Mist Breathing Seventh Form: Obscuring Clouds.”
Suddenly, there was a flood of cold air. Thick clouds of steam and mist gathering around Genya’s head, flowing into his lungs….
He could breathe.
Genya took a deep breath.
Then another.
And another.
He sat up, trying to claw as much air into his chest as he could manage, the pain slowly subsiding under the cover of fog.
“You were trying to run, weren’t you? That was stupid. Even the angry pomeranian knows his limits.”
Genya looked up, spluttering as he tried to find who had just spoken in that ever-gentle tone.
He only saw a girl - or a boy? - his age, standing to the side, teal eyes regarding him - or at least the space vaguely around him. It was hard to tell if they were focused on anything.
“What the f*ck?” Genya snapped, “Who are you?”
“… Tokito Muichiro,” the black haired person said.
Genya’s eyes widened.
sh*t.
This was the Mist Hashira.
“You know my brother, then?” he said, crossing his legs and sitting back, not wanting to walk away from the mist that was making his chest feel so nice. That was making it so easy to breathe, for once.
“Huh?” Muichiro tilted his head. “Who are you?”
Genya raised an eyebrow. “Shinazugawa Genya! My older brother is Sanemi! The Wind Pillar!”
Muichiro stared blankly. “Who is that.”
Genya couldn’t tell if Muichiro was kidding or not. Seriously? Was this kid brain-dead? “Wind Hashira! Big and tall, covered in scars, white hair! A huge jerk!”
“Oh,” Muichiro’s expression didn’t change, but he nodded. “The one who smells like a wet dog.”
“That’s-“ Genya stopped as he realised what Muichiro had said. “What-?”
“He has the emotional intelligence of a kindergartner and thinks pulling on Tomioka’s hair counts as flirting,” Muichiro said sagely, no real malice in his tone.
Genya stared. No one had ever had the balls to say anything like that about his brother. “Hang on. Tomioka? As in Tomioka GIYUU?”
Muichiro blinked. “Who’s that?”
Genya couldn’t help it-
He laughed.
“How did you know that would work?” he asked, tilting his head. “With the mist, and my breathing.”
For the first time, Tokito’s eyes seemed to flicker with… something else.
“I used to heat water to help my…” he faltered. “My brother?”
It sounded more a question than anything, and Genya could see him struggle to hold onto it. His certainty faltering the harder he thought.
“Hey-“ he barked, cutting the boy off. “You don’t need to know. Just- thanks.” It came out softer than he’d meant it to.
Muichiro blinked. Then gestured beside him. “You can sit on the log too… the ground is dirty.”
“Right,” Genya coughed awkwardly, justifying it to himself with the fact that the air around Muichiro was mistier, and therefore easier to breathe.
He sat down beside Muichiro, glancing over to study the Hashira’s face. His lashes were long, nose gently sloped and lips parted in a dewy expression.
Genya noticed mist droplets had collected on his eyelashes.
He glimmered like a spiderweb in the sunlight.
“What are you even out here for?” Genya asked, forcing himself to stop staring.
“…. a swordsmith. I need a new sword.”
“Well-“ Genya puffed up his cheeks, sitting up straight. “Maybe you should try using a gun! I use a gun! And it’s way better than a sword!”
Muichiro looked over at him, humming. “… can you use breathing techniques with a gun?”
“Uh-“ Genya faltered, flushing. “How would I know! I don’t use breathing techniques!”
“Maybe gun is your breathing technique.”
Genya stared, trying to make sense of whatever that was. “Huh?”
“…. that was… a joke,” Muichiro said slowly, blinking hazy teal eyes at him.
“Oh!” Genya coughed again, not sure if it was from his breathing, or from how damn nervous the boy beside him was making him feel. “That was absolutely terrible.”
Muichiro covered his mouth-
and let out a huff of laughter.
Genya froze, the sound replaying in his mind on loop. The light that briefly flashed in the Hashira’s eyes. The faint flush on his cheeks. Genya’s heart was pounding.
“How much longer are you staying?” he half-shouted, hand flinging out to catch Muichiro’s wrist.
The boy blinked, looking surprised. “Um- a few more days I think…”
Genya steeled himself, narrowing his eyes. “Let’s stay at the same place! I want to train with you!”
Muichiro tilted his head. “… why?”
“Because-“ Genya let go of Muichiro, turning away. “You make it easier to breathe.”
He glanced over, when the Hashira didn’t respond- and saw Muichiro staring, mouth open, cheeks flushed pink.
“… okay.”
They sat.
Muichiro watched the clouds.
His pinky curled around Genya’s.
It was quiet.
Genya could breathe.
