Chapter Text
Tanjirou’s room was the tiny attic space above the bakery, which, after weeks of begging and explaining how little privacy there was to be found in an eight-person household- had been repurposed into a shoddy, sparsely decorated bedroom. There was a bed, dresser, and a window overlooking the shore. And that was pretty much it. Which was fine by Tanjirou’s standards. He didn’t spend much time there anyway, with how busy his life used to be. Now, he avoided it just because it reminded him of all the time he had on his hands now. Still, it was nice to have a space that was strictly his. Until it wasn’t.
You see, Rokuta had the supernatural ability to worm his way in places which he really shouldn't be. There weren’t many places where the toddler was banned, but the rules were there for his safety. And so, of course, they became his favorite spots to hide. He emptied their kitchen’s entire supply of baking pans and appliances in a vain attempt to avoid his next bath. He was also a creative artist, as per the time he invited himself into Hanako’s room and dumped all of her nail polish onto the rug trying to mix his favorite color (Which turned out to be a sparkly brown). But the most notable of Rokuta’s escapades was that one lazy afternoon where Rokuta had decided the best place to sleep was inside of a freshly used convection oven. It was still warm and cozy and smelled of bread and- well, let's just say that all ovens are to be checked thoroughly before being even looked at now, much less being used. All of which is to say that, yes, Rokuta was the master of being everywhere he shouldn’t be. And so, when Tanjirou heard a thunderous crash that came from somewhere above the shop, he was the first to abandon sweeping the storefront and mentally added his own room to that albeit shortlist.
“Rokuta, you know you can’t go in here when we have a-“ his eyes glazed over the scene, taking in the nonchalance of his youngest brother gumming at the fist full of straw-colored hair, and the panicked sprawl of their visitor, who was very much not asleep and had apparently fallen to the floor in a heap of limbs. “-guest.”
Tanjirou was vaguely aware of the movement in the room, the way this blond stranger had scrambled back on his hands- bandages coming loose and falling to the wayside- until his head struck the windowsill with a crack, and how Rokuta giggled with delight and clapped his hands at the sound. Still, all Tanjirou could focus on was the light. The mid-day sun shone through the window pane and bathed this newcomer in a golden glow that made him look- well, he looked blessed by the sun. Everything about him was a vivid shade of gold- and in motion, his skin shimmered with every bird-like twitch. Even his eyes took on the color of honey with the way the light splashed across his wide-eyed expression. It was so odd, seeing him so alive after all that time he’d spent unconscious, but motion fit him. Their eyes met, and Tanjirou was suddenly hit with the sudden revelation that he couldn’t smell anything on him, not even the fear that was so blatant on the other’s face.
Not a moment later, Nezuko swept into the room, breaking whatever spell had befallen Tanjirou by unceremoniously shoving him out of the way. Don’t just stand there and gawk, help him, she signed before trying to detach Rokuta from their blonde guest.
Oh- OH! Tanjirou stumbled into the room feeling more clumsy than he had in a long time but ultimately stopped himself. “Can, uh...can you stand?” That distant look in their visitor’s eye seemed to get even further away, but fear didn’t register on his person at all. The only scent Tanjirou could detect (past his own nervousness, and Nezuko’s exasperation) was the sea’s distinct spray— which was really, genuinely not helpful in the moment. So instead, Tanjirou fluttered around the poor guy, unsure of what to do. He looked to Nezuko for any kind of direction, but his kind-hearted sister simply glared right back at him then somehow aggressively hefted Rokuta his way as if to say I’m busy . Again, not helpful. “Uh, um, Ok...well, can I touch you?”
It was an innocuous enough question; really, he honestly didn’t mean anything by it. And yet, his heart leaped into his throat when those brown eyes rolled back into their guest’s head, and his body actually slumped against the wall. Everything was still after that. As though time had simply stopped to gawk at the absurdity of it all. But time stopped for no one, especially Rokuta, who immediately started wailing at the loss of his new friend, and consequently called the rest of their family to the tiny room.
Hanako gasped in the doorway, “What did you do?!”
“I didn’t-”
“Mom! Tanjirou killed him!” Takeo shouts the stairs before shoving Hanako out of the way to get a closer look at the ‘dead’ body.
“Takeo, please-”
“...he’s dead? Really?” Shigeru asked, voice watery and nearly in tears as he peeked around the doorway.
The room dissolved into chaos, with Nezuko trying to comfort a crying Rokuta, and Tanjirou trying in vain to explain to Hanako that nothing happened and no, he is not dead Shigeru, please don’t listen to Takeo you know he only says stuff like that to upset you and- “KIDS!” Their mother shouted over the disorder, looking more than a little frazzled. “Please, leave.”
“What-”
“But mom!”
“He’s-he’s dead though…”
“Get. Out. Please.” Their mother demanded over their dueling reactions. They were all quick to file out of the room, lest they incurred the woman’s wrath, Tanjirou among them. He had barely one foot out the door when she called out, “Not you, Tanjirou, stay.”
And he does, despite the teasing whispers of his youngest siblings, and that strange look Nezuko shot his way before herding the rest of them down the steps like cats. So now he was stuck in this room that felt less like it was his with every passing second. A creeping hesitation that had snaked itself around his limbs and left him feeling… uneasy. He had been second-guessing himself since the shipwreck, but it never felt as paralyzing as it did at that moment.
“Tanjirou,” His mother said, pulling him out of his reverie, “help our guest onto the bed, please? I have to go and get a change of bandages.” She had crouched down next to the unconscious boy, with the back of her hand pressed firmly to his forehead.
“Uh, right. You got it.” He said, trying to recapture that easy confidence he had with his family and friends. It obviously wasn’t working,if the look he got his mother was any indication, but he tried not to let that slow him down. Plus, it was easier to approach when those big eyes weren’t staring back at him. Tanjirou hooked his arm under their guest’s knees and was careful not to jostle him during the lift. Although they were nearly the same build-wise, their visitor was surprisingly light, though a bit swallowed in his old clothes. But his skin was as soft as it looked, and with the other cradled against his chest like that, he really did look like he was sleeping, huh.
“Ahem,” The third forgotten person in the room cleared her throat, and Tanjirou would never admit to dropping the man on the bed. But he did, and the bed jostled a bit under its newly introduced weight. Every place where their bare skin met felt as if it were on fire, and it spread to his face as he stared wide-eyed at his mother, who was leaning in the doorway looking as amused as he felt mortified. She tossed an unwrapped roll of gauze his way. “Since you seem so enamored, why don't you help me change his bandages.”
“I’m not enamored…” He tried to deny but agreed to help anyway, a little too eager to do something despite being called out on his odd behavior. But he couldn’t help it. This restlessness filled his days, and now that he had nothing to distract from it, it just felt worse. He felt out of control, and the only way he’d found to alleviate that unease was to ignore it. So he helped his mother, unwinding the bandages that crept along their guest’s arms, although there wasn’t much left to remove.
Tanjirou had never been a stranger to burns, having once pulled a tray from the oven with his bare hands to save a batch of cupcakes. He had what seemed like hundreds of little nicks and scars all across his fingers and palms, but surprisingly, he didn’t mind them. His own hands were simply a reflection of his need to help others. He couldn’t even call them ugly, as every raised, angry scar had a story behind it; they just existed. The burns on the blonde’s forearms, however, were oddly faded for how raw they felt. The skin flaked up in places, but aside from the discoloration, they looked fine. He wondered how it happened.
“I was so surprised when both you and Nezuko said you’d made some new friends; I thought at least one of you might have been joking.” His mother says into the quiet that had settled between them, then laughs at the face he made, “I kid, I kid, I’m just not used to you guys making new friends is all,”
“We’re not friends, I don’t think,” Tanjirou said, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling called out. “I just see him sometimes, at the beach.”
“Well, does this not friend have a name?” She inquired smugly, all the while expertly wrapping the new bandage.
“No? He’s a strong swimmer. I sometimes see him far out from the shore, but we’ve never really...spoken before.” Wow, saying it out loud like that really puts things into perspective. He rubbed the back of his neck again, willing the awkwardness away. “Nezuko probably knows more than I do.” Tanjirou’s eyes stayed downcast, and he noted that his work was a lot sloppier than usual. The bandages are woven tight at the bicep and hung looser at the wrist, but it did its job, holding fast where it counted most.
He watches carefully as his mother replaces the thin bandage on their visitor’s neck before she speaks up again, “I’ve never seen you so anxious before. You’ve never been one to wear your heart on your sleeve like this.” His mother’s expression was overcast with worry, and something like a stone formed to the pit of his stomach.
“I think I’m just… nervous?” He guessed at the feeling and rubbed at his eyes. It’s probably not far off from the truth. In a small community like this, everyone knows everyone. Tanjirou hasn’t met anyone new in such a long time and hasn’t needed to when everyone knows you, or if they don’t, they know you’re parents, or your sister or your brothers ran through their yard once, and the neighbors filled them in on who exactly you are. And when everyone knows each other, at least those awkward introductions aren't so awkward anymore. But this new presence in his life is unpredictable. It’s an uncomfortable feeling that leaves Tanjirou uneasy in his own body. And judging by how their first interaction went, he has every right to feel that way.
His mother is on the complete opposite spectrum apparently and pinched his shoulder, effectively pulling him out of that downward spiral, “You don’t have anything to be nervous about.” She smiles in that way she used to when he had a bad day in grade school, dripping with sympathy and a sage wisdom that can only come from knowing exactly how much worse life could get. “Just be yourself and everything will fall into place.” His mother’s words weren't anything new or miraculous, but they were sorely needed.
+++++++++++++++
The first time Zenitsu woke up didn’t count. Of course, a weird dream like that wouldn’t count! There was no way all those kind sounds were ringing out with worry for him. Of course not, that would be ridiculous, obscene, ludicrous! And yet even with all his senses returned, Zenitsu was hesitant to open his eyes. Maybe it was the way variations on that same soft tune moved in and out of his auditory periphery, or maybe he just wasn’t ready to face the consequences of his actions.
Even after everything he’d heard from Shinobu, and seeing first hand what had become of Kaigaku, he still went to that demon and made his wish. It was a decision made somewhat in desperation, but what other choice did he have? He had nothing, no family, no home, nothing to mark his life as being lived at all. There was Kanao -and he loved Kanao with everything he had but she was better off without him. She was strong and dependable and had been ousted simply by being associated with him. He hated hearing others speak ill of her because of him. She’d be better off without him, even if it hurt at first. She would move on...eventually. No one would remember him fondly, and after a year, maybe no one would remember him at all. He would be gone. Lost among the seafoam...just like Grandpa. And that scared the blonde boy more than anything. So he took a chance, and that ended as well as one could expect. Maybe this was hell. Tricking him into thinking anyone would be concerned for his well being-
“I can hear you thinking, you know.” A warm voice cuts through his thoughts like the shards of sea glass he once collected, and the shock of not being utterly alone with his thoughts forced him to open his eyes and face the world. Or, at least face whatever this strange place was. The ocean was a vast place, not a small, wooden box like this. It reminded him of the crates that he used to pry open and search through. The best trinkets were usually hiding inside of them like an oyster hides a pearl. This must have been what it was like, to be stuck in a tiny clam at the bottom of the sea.
Someone cleared their throat and Zenitsu’s eyes snapped to the woman from which it originated. A woman stood in the opening, looking exasperated, but smiling nonetheless. She’s tall and from her thin frame hung numerous layers of cloth that swished with her every move. Her features were dainty but sharpened by the way her hair was pulled back, away from her face and piled up on the top of her head in a messy knot. Thinning gray hairs framed her face and betrayed her age, but her smile was kind and oddly familiar. Even more so was the beat of her heart. Her song was so familiar, it repressed the panic bubbling under his skin.
Dread swished around in the blonde’s stomach instead, and probably shone on his face when the woman's expression turned from playful to sympathetic. “I don’t mean to tease you dear, it’s just- you’re just so expressive. I’m Kie Kamado.” The woman introduced herself while folding a long colorful stretch of fabric over her arm, and laying it over...whatever he was laying on.
He took a moment to actually look around. He was in an enclosed space but surprisingly it felt less oppressive when he saw what looked like an opening in the wall. It wasn’t like the ones in the cove, sporadic and formed over what must have been thousands of years of erosion. This was more formal and precise, with a panel of clear glass across it, and through that partially opened lens he saw the tumble of waves, foaming up and dissolving into that perfect blue. Only the faint, familiar swell of the sea could be heard, and it’s so odd not being there, submerged in its depths and- wait. What? Reality catches up to him quickly, the way the ambient air touches his exposed skin, and the fact that his body is being pulled downward instead of drifting, awash in the sea. He tries to move his tail and inadvertently kicks out a limb that is not his . The panic is sudden and overwhelming and he wanted to scream as he did in every slightly anxiety-inducing situating.
Air passed through his throat without making any sound at all. It was as though his vocal cords had been carefully extracted in his sleep, the thought of which had the boy clutching at his neck as fear really began to overtake his senses and-
And the woman held his forearms, gently but firmly, as if she knew he was going to panic. “You're going to have to breath for me, alright? I know it’s scary waking up in a strange place, but please, believe me, we’re trying to help you.” Her voice was gentle, like the lapping of the waves in the early morning, and it did calm him somewhat, but who was this we? He tried to ask, but the absence of any sound ruined any chance of that. He tried to think of how to pose the question, and his mind went back to the way Kanao would tilt her head sometimes in an effort to find out what new crisis had befallen him today. He prays the gesture is somewhat universal, and lulls to head to the side. A warm smile breaks out on the woman’s face in response, and she takes a step back and yells, “Kids, stop eavesdropping and come meet our guest. SLOWLY this time . ”
Not a moment later did this cacophonous sound that could only be described as clumsy, emanated from somewhere under them. Harsh whispers and rhythmic thuds followed as three children of varying heights tumbled into the room. “This is Takeo, Hanako, and Shigeru,” They all had their mother’s features to some degree, sporting jet black hair and large round eyes. Only their color was peculiar, he’d never seen red eyes on anyone except-
“Wow, we match.” The oldest of the boys said, poking at whatever wrappings were covering his arms, “How’d you get hurt like that? I fell and scraped my elbow, but I think it’ll leave a cool scar.” He proceeded to roll his sleeve up his arm to show off a similar wrap.
“You didn’t fall Taeko, I pushed you ” the young girl reminded him as if to say and I’d do it again . They both glared at each other for a moment, their heart’s songs growing tense, then their mother cleared her throat and all tension dissipated. “I’m Hanako by the way, It’s nice to meet you!” She gave Zenistu a sugary smile, and then her eyes began to glimmar like stars and her heart’s song sped up to match her newly found enthusiasm, “Your hair is so long! Can I braid it? Takeo never let me braid his and Shigeru’s is too short!”
“Why would I let you braid it when all you do is want to fight!”
“Maybe I wouldn’t want to fight you all the time if you’d mind your business-”
“I’m just glad you're ok,” Said the third child-Shigeru-, so quietly, Zenitsu was sure he wouldn’t have heard it if he couldn’t hear the way he could. And now that attention was called to it, he could hear a relief intertwined with the melody of Shigeru’s sound. He could hear it echoing out from all around him, even under the sour strained notes of annoyance in Mrs. Kamado’s sound. She sighs, loud enough to break up the emerging fight, “Children please, don’t crowd him.” They all take a step back (except Shigeru, who hadn’t ventured too far from his mom, to begin with), just as another set of hurried steps carried someone into the room.
A woman seemingly around his age, stepped into the room holding an even smaller child than the rest. Zenitsu didn’t even know they came in that size. The tiny child had a fist full of the woman’s hair in its tiny fist and was trying to make a meal out of it apparently. At least he was until those big red eyes zeroed in on Zenitsu and he started making grabby hands in his direction. Apparently, he made a face, which had the woman snickering behind her free hand, and wow, she was pretty. If the others looked like their mother, then she was a carbon copy of the women. The same dainty features played on her face and round pink eyes scrunched at their corners as she smiled behind her hand. But there was something more to her than that, a lilting melody to her sound that entranced him, though he couldn’t understand why.
“That’s Nezuko, and my sweet baby, Rokuta.” Rokuta was passed to his mother, and started to fuss at not being passed to the bedridden blonde. “I guess you have a fan!”
Zenitsu flushed at the thought. No one had ever wanted to be near him before- but then he remembered, they didn’t know him, not yet anyway. And once they did, animosity would set in once again. All of a sudden the cramped space felt tighter and colder. He forced a smile hoping they wouldn’t notice. And they didn’t, not with Hanako and Taeko squabbling with Shigeru trying to play peacemaker and Rokuta doing everything in his power to slip from his mother’s grasp. It was so lively, is this what a family is like?
Despite how discordant all their sounds seemed individually, they complimented each other, layering into a sweet-sounding song. Everyone seemed to just click, it was nice. He wished he could be a part of it. Nezuko’s brow’s furrow and she looked like she was going to say something when someone else slipped past her and-
“Hi-uh, I’m glad you're doing ok.” The recognition was almost instantaneous, from the kind look to his eyes to his slicked back hairstyle to that faded, jagged scar that barely touched his eye, to that earworm of a sound that had Zenitsu humming it for weeks! Zenitsu was mortified. He could have died right then and there! Arguably he should have. They were never supposed to look in each other’s direction, much less meet! The invalid was so in his own head he almost didn’t notice the tray being placed on his lap. It was covered with things similar to the medicinal bowls Shinobu used, and they clacked around like wind chimes. “Ah- sorry, I didn’t know what you liked, so Nezuko and I kinda went overboard with cooking.” He places a hand on the back of his head and takes a step back, clearly a little embarrassed but still welcoming him with that smile Zenistu had become so fond of. “Ah- I’m Tanjirou...by the way.” The man says as an afterthought and reminds Zenitsu that he hasn’t introduced himself yet. He starts- and then remembers the silence where his shrill voice once reverberated.
His attempt garners sympathetic looks from everyone, except Nezuko, who’s eyes lit up with excitement. She begins gesturing with dexterous hands and fingers, only stopping when she notices the clear confusion on his face. “Nezuko prefers to sign rather than speak,” Tanjirou offers as an explanation. Ah, so it’s a way of communicating, well Zenitsu himself hasn’t said a word yet, so it makes sense she would ask.
He wished he could respond to her, or Mrs. Kamado, or any of them. The kindness in this room is overwhelming and Zenitsu wants to thank everyone for their concern and the food and care he’s clearly enjoyed. So he takes the smallest of the bowls on the tray and brings it to his face. It’s warm and smells a little like the Wisteria flowers he used to collect, and tasted a little like the medicines Aoi would occasionally make for him, but watered down and sweeter. He smiles up at everyone, in the hopes that it will read as thank you for your generosity. “Ah I-Uh, I-I’m glad you like it. I think my loaves are burning. I gotta go, uh, feel better!” Tanjirou left the room in a rush, leaving Zenitsu a little dazed and more than confused. Had he said something wrong? He looked to Mrs. Kamado, who just leveled a knowing smile his way, “Don’t worry. My eldest is just a little shy.” She then addressed the rest of the kids who had all crowded around him, asking questions he really doesn’t have any answers to, or could even answer. “Now that you're awake, I’ll have to call the doctor and update the police station, I’m sure your family must be worried sick about you.” Zenitsu knows that no one is looking for him, or even notices his absence, but forces a smile and nods anyways. “Alright then. Kids, will you keep our guest company? I’ll only be a minute.”
She leaves before any of them can answer, and the glint in Hanako’s eye and the smile Taeko gave him, made Zentisu feel as though he’d been left out in the open sea.
“What do you mean running away ? I wasn’t running away.” Tanjirou claims with that lukewarm smile. But Tanjirou stubbornly flits around the kitchen, mixing bowl and whisk in hand, ignoring his sister under the guise of being busy . Nezuko knows all this as an act, of course, he tried to act so unbothered by everything that it actually made it really easy for Nezuko to notice when he was even slightly off. Like for instance, right now, with him running around with his apron untied. She ties it before he gets caught on something, and kindhearted Tanjiro turns to thank her- his first mistake.
‘You said there was bread in the oven. It’s Sunday. The bakery is closed.’ Her gestures fast yet curt. Because she knows he’ll try to weasel his way out of the conversation
“We’ve still got to prep for tomorrow right? And thanks.” Tanjirou gave her a lazy smile, then offered her the whisk, “Is the whipped cream too sweet? I think it’s a little too sweet.” She swipes at it with her finger already knowing it’s going to a grainy mess. But Tanjirou always gets like this. If something is bothering him it always shows in his work or his actions. Just usually not both.
It tastes exactly as bad as she expected, and she signed so, ‘ You always make it too sweet. And you didn’t mix it enough.’ Add some more cream and a dash of cinnamon.
“Ah, you’re right.” He gently pushed the bowl into her hands in his crusade for the cinnamon and Nezuko debates throwing the whisk at his hard head.
She doesn’t, although the temptation is there, opting instead to put the bowl aside and physically turn Tanjirou from the shelves so he’ll have to listen to her, ‘You ran away and now you're hiding in the closet.’
“I’m not in the closet.” Tanjirou says, looking around in that way lost people do, before turning a quizzical gaze back on Nezuko, “This is the pantry. Are you feeling alright? I’ll see if mom can get Dr. Tamayo to examine you to-”
‘You’re the one acting strange.’ Nezuko signed, genuine concern slipping through her fingers, ‘What’s going on with you?’
Tanjirou pauses as if the thought just occurred to him that he was acting strange, and she heard the very slight whisper of “Maybe I am sick…?” Before that shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I promise I’m fine. You shouldn’t worry about me.” Sincerity took over his voice, and it would have been genuine...if he weren't trying to to convince himself just as much. “I’m ok. And If not, then I will be...eventually. So don’t worry about me, ok?” Tanjirou pats her on the head, despite probably needing comfort more than she does.
But Nezuko knows her brother is stubborn to a fault. if he doesn’t want to see the problem then it may as well not exist. The best she can do is support him as much as she can. And possibly nudge him in the right direction, If he can be nosy, she could be just as bad. And just for fun, 'Tanjiro? I think your loaves are actually burning,'
Babies were strange, Zenistu thought as he sat across from the bobble-headed human. They have tiny limbs but deceptively strong grip strength. And, at least in this one’s case, they could be calm. Despite the fervor Rokuta displayed earlier, he seemed content enough so long as he could sit nestled within touching distance of Zensitus. Or many he was just tired if the way he yawns is any indication, But despite the impending nap, the child makes an impressive attempt to resist the inevitable- instead opting to stare at Zentsu with all the intent he could muster. Maybe this intense staring was another way of communication? Like Nezuko uses her hands…? Humans are so strange, he’s willing to believe anything at this point. So he tries it and tilts his head to the side- the same way he did to Mrs. Kamado, and watches (in horror) as the child mirrors his gesture. Babies- he learns in that instant- are incredibly top-heavy, and Rokuta topples over in what seems like slow motion. Zenitsu’s reflexes luckily survived whatever transformation he’d undergone, and he rights the blissfully unaware baby right before he can topple to the floor. Unfortunately, he forgot exactly what he was doing, and a sharp tug of his hair from Hanako made him straight again, “Don’t move! I promise I’m almost done.” She says, her clipped voice betraying frustration.
He would say something (if he could) but a sharp knock against the floor brings both their attention to Nezuko, who’s standing in the doorway looking less than pleased. She has something in her hands, which is discarded in favor of those quick gestures she does. It’s fluid and dynamic yet gets the point across, clearly, as Hanako nudges him in the shoulder, looking far more forlorn than before. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have pulled your hair…” Ah, So that’s what this is about. He wants to say that it didn’t hurt at all, that Kanao pulls his hair all the time and does it way harder- but he can’t (shouldn’t...after he chose to abandon her). So he nods instead in the hopes of conveying all of that. A thin smile and nod is all the acknowledgment he gets before his attention is brought back to Nezuko and that...thing. It's small, no wider than her frame, but flat and wide with a shiny white face. The faintest outline of the room is reflected back at him and he can’t help but wonder what it’s for.
He doesn’t have to wait long, as Nezuko retrieves it alongside a small tool and begins writing. It doesn’t look like a brush, but he can hear something akin to the bristles of one, rubbing softly against the surface. After a moment, she turns it around, showing the message, “ Hi, sorry for assuming you signed, but I figured this might be an easier way to communicate :) ” She wiped her arm across its face, and like indents in sand, it disappeared. The awe on his face must have registered as excitement, as the young woman nodded enthusiastically at him and handed the contraption to him.
He froze. Suddenly clamming up in a way he hadn't in such a long time. Talking had always been difficult for Zentisu. He never had trouble forming words, but his speech was awkward and annoying. He was obnoxious and loud, the others didn’t like the shrill wine of his voice and never hid that fact. Even if they were kind enough not to say it to his face, his hearing was far more of a curse during those early years. Only Gramps, and later Kanao, could stand to listen to him at all. It made him falter in the moment. He looked up at Nezuko, who was looking at him expectantly, and realized that they didn’t have to know. He had no voice and no history here. Maybe that was a good thing. “ Hi, I’m Zentisu. My memory is hazy. I don’t know where I am or much else about myself, but thank you for taking care of me.”