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Tanjiro’s family was poor, so the children often slept two or three to a futon. No one minded, especially not during the bitterly cold winter nights on the mountain. Everyone squeezing into their three futons ensured no one would wake up with frostbitten toes, no matter how bad the storm raged outside. When Tanjiro’s father was still alive all the little ones would crowd into his futon to make sure he stayed warm through the night. On those nights Tanjiro and Nezuko slept with their mother in her futon - which always reminded Tanjiro of when they were younger. How all three of them clamored into Tanjiro’s futon, eventually falling asleep amidst laughter and lullabies. Tanjiro never felt cold or lonely back then, not with his family surrounding him with their gentle warmth and familiar scents.
He tried not to think about those memories now. He wanted them to stay full of joy and love. Recalling them now after… everything… might tinge them with sorrow. He didn’t want to mar his memories of his family - they weren’t pitiful. They might have been poor but they were rich in happiness. So Tanjiro tried not to think about the things he missed, like Nezuko’s laughter or his mother’s cooking, or the tumbling play fights he had with his younger brothers, or Rokuta’s chubby cheeks. He didn’t think about the way all his siblings puffed out foggy breath in the winter air.
He couldn’t.
If he did, he might fall apart, and he couldn’t do that to Nezuko. He swore he would turn her back into a human; he needed to stay focused. But there were times he faltered.
Like tonight, while he, Inosuke, and Zenitsu rested in a ramshackle hut halfway up the snow-covered mountain they had been sent to. There was supposedly a pair of snow demons residing at the top of the mountain, freezing the entire area. When the trio first spotted the ice-capped peak of the mountain, it looked so out of place in the surrounding summer landscape it nearly gave him whiplash.
The demons had appeared suddenly, stealing people from the surrounding villages. With each new person they took, the wintery curse spread further down the mountain, killing everything in its path. Now the snow fell near-constantly and the cold was creeping into the farms and rice paddies of the nearby villages, threatening their annual harvests. The three of them, with Nezuko in tow, had been led to the mountain by Tanjiro’s crow and Zenitsu’s sparrow.
After climbing halfway up the mountain, their fingers and toes going numb as their eyes watered, the crow led them to the small hut, mostly buried in snow.
“Rest! Warm up!” the crow ordered shrilly. “Rest! Warm up!”
All of them were grateful for the shelter from the blizzard raging outside, even Inosuke who had tried to make a show of strength by refusing to wear any extra layers. It only took about twenty minutes in the blistering cold for him to cave and now he huddled close to the fire pit, Tanjiro’s haori draped over his shoulders.
“This sucks,” Zenitsu whined, peeling off his snow-caked shoes. “I didn’t sign up to become a demon slayer icicle!”
“Yeah, this is brutal, even for me,” Tanjiro agreed through chattering teeth. He’d grown up on a cold mountain, but this cold was different. It smelled like hatred and deep sadness. It practically gnawed at their exposed skin.
He wondered what happened to the demons that pushed them to create such a strong demon blood art. Living on a mountain in a snowy area was rife with danger. Inexperienced people or those who underestimated the mountains near his childhood home would perish trying to cross them in the winter. Tanjiro always felt bad for them, dying alone in a cold, unfamiliar place. He hoped that wasn’t what happened to the demons at the top of the mountain… but even if it had, it wouldn’t excuse the fact that they kidnapped and killed innocent people.
Tanjiro tightened his grip on the spoon he was holding, which he was using to stir the stew he was making for dinner. It was despicable, what Muzan did. Preying on the weak in their times of need. It was revolting how he saw no problem manipulating others and treating them like pawns. Tanjiro clenched his jaw, staring down into the pot he was stirring, brows drawn together in an angry wrinkle.
“-iro? Tanjiro?” Zenitsu’s hand fell on Tanjiro’s shoulder, breaking him out of his thoughts.
“What?”
“You okay? You’re about to snap that spoon in half.”
Tanjiro looked down, seeing that the spoon had started to splinter, and loosened his grip.
"Sorry." He laughed half-heartedly. "I was lost in thought."
“Wassat mean?” Inosuke barked. He’d been waiting patiently for Tanjiro to finish cooking, as patiently as he could staring at the steaming pot as his stomach growled.
“Ah, it means I was thinking so much I kind of forgot what I was doing,” Tanjiro explained, going back to tending the stew.
Inosuke snorted. “Sounds like something stupid.”
Tanjiro laughed, “I guess it is.”
“You might benefit from some thoughtfulness,” Zenitsu mumbled.
“Hah!?”
“Nothing!” the blonde yelped, diving behind Tanjiro to hide from Inosuke’s glare.
“Now now,” Tanjiro said placatingly, “How about we eat? I think it’s ready.”
“Finally!”
Tanjiro spooned the hearty potato-based stew into the mismatched bowls he’d found in the sparsely stocked kitchen, where he’d found the ingredients. He wasn’t sure if the house had been stocked by the demon slaying corps or if it was a conveniently located house that had been abandoned by its inhabitants. Hopefully, they’d escaped before the snow spread if that was the case.
It was so cold and the demon blood art was so overpowering that Tanjiro was struggling to smell much more than the snow demons when they found the house. Now inside, all he smelled was the fire and the food and the scents of the people he traveled with. It wasn’t bad-- if anything, it was nostalgic in a way. The people were different but it all felt so familiar, so right.
Inosuke ate greedily, holding his chopsticks in a balled fist, shoveling the food into his mouth. Zenitsu grimaced as he watched the other boy inhale the stew. Unconsciously, a smile spread over Tanjiro’s face as he watched them. It was different from his family meals but it gave him a similar sense of safety and contentedness. When Inosuke thrust his bowl forward, Tanjiro happily refilled it, reminded of how his younger brothers would bicker over who deserved the leftover portions of a meal.
After everyone had eaten their fill, they laid out the futons they’d found just outside the kitchen. As usual, Tanjiro slept between Inosuke and Zenitsu. He didn’t think Inosuke would actually attack Zenitsu anymore, but Zenitsu insisted that their sleeping arrangements remain the same. The boys slept in their uniforms to fend off the creeping chill and so they were ready to jump into a fight at a moment’s notice. They also decided to let the fire burn itself out to maintain the heat it had generated during the cooking process. Nezuko was still sleeping in her box, so Tanjiro moved it closer to the warmth of the sunken hearth before climbing into his borrowed futon.
The icy wind hissed through the trees outside, which moaned and creaked. These were noises Tanjiro knew well, ones he’d listened to all his childhood. It seemed Inosuke was also used to the sounds of a mountain in winter, as he quickly began snoring. Zenitsu, on the other hand, flinched at the sounds leaking in from outside. He whimpered, pulling the blanket over his head.
“Zenitsu,” Tanjiro whispered, knowing the blonde could hear him.
“What?” he replied in a wavering voice.
“It’s just the wind.”
“Huh?”
“The weird sounds. The creaking. The trees froze too fast and the sap inside tensed up. The creaking is because the wind jostles them around, it’s nothing to be scared of,” Tanjiro explained in a soothing voice.
“You can’t hear what I can,” Zenitsu whispered, turning onto his side to face Tanjiro. “It’s so loud.”
“What’s loud?”
“The wind, the trees. The demons are so loud that I can’t hear anything else.”
“You can hear me, right?” Tanjiro asked.
“Yeah, of course…”
“Then just listen to me. And Inosuke and Nezuko. Listen to our heartbeats and our breathing. You’re in here with us now. We’ll deal with the demons tomorrow.”
Zenitsu nodded unsurely, looking into the darkness of the hut for a moment before sliding out of his futon and pushing it closer to Tanjiro’s.
“I can hear better if I’m closer…” Zenitsu looked at him for approval and Tanjiro nodded with a smile.
Zenitsu crawled back into his futon, settling with a sigh on his side, facing Tanjiro. Now that the blonde had moved closer, Tanjiro could feel the slight warmth radiating off him and sighed himself.
Tanjiro had insisted that Inosuke wear his haori to bed, which Inosuke frustratedly complied with after Tanjiro reminded him about how cold he’d been on the mountain. Now he snored deeply, semi-sprawled out in his futon. Tanjiro laid on his back, staring up at the low ceiling of the house. Everyone was safe, sleeping nearby, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
And of course it was. They were sleeping on a demon infested mountain. But it wasn’t the smell of the mountain, cold like metal, or his nerves keeping him awake. In fact, all things considered, he’d gotten used to the scent pretty quickly. He could smell the cold and the resentment and the fear and how all of it was steeped in a deep sense of sadness. It must have been the sadness making him so melancholy. He’d been influenced by demons’ emotions before, but never this strongly; not even as they’d died had one drawn up such a strong response.
Tanjiro closed his eyes, willing the interloping emotions away.
He could feel sad later. Even if they were resting now, they were still on a mission — they’d need their energy for the coming battle. So Tanjiro rolled onto his side, facing Inosuke, and shut his eyes.
Tanjiro opened his eyes and knew immediately that he was dreaming. It didn’t smell like the mountain; in fact it didn’t smell like anything. It was jarring, having one of his senses disappear. But he’d come to understand that as a sign of being in a dream.
He looked around, and despite not recognizing where he was, he felt a sense of dejavu. Dreams were odd like that, full of familiar places that he’d never been to. Full of people he forgot about when he woke up.
Judging from his surroundings, he appeared to be on a mountain, but the trees sprouted from nothing. Tanjiro looked down at himself and realized he wasn’t himself. He was shorter, wearing clothes he’d never owned. His hands were small and were not scarred from his months of training. He shifted back a step and heard the fresh crunch of snow underfoot. He gasped and the freezing air stung his lungs. He looked to the ground and found his legs calf deep in the snow that was all around him.
On the wind he heard a yell, a desperate cry. His stomach dropped, heavy with dread, and he started running towards the voice. It was like when he was running from his home with Nezuko on his back, tears welled in his eyes but frozen on his cheeks. He kept running, hauling his snow laden legs out of the ever deepening snow. The shouting grew closer and louder as the snow grew deeper. It was up to his chest now, compressing his lungs. The shouting was all around him as he clawed at the snow with bloody fingers numbed by the cold. The snow continued to pile up until it swallowed him.
And for a moment everything was still and silent and dark.
Then, from the darkness, a warmth pressed onto his arm. Another point bloomed on his upper back. The warmth on his arm grew larger, spreading up to his neck and the side of his face. Tanjiro couldn’t see what the warmth was, but his instincts told him it meant no harm. He relaxed into it as it spread over his side, connecting to the point on his back. Closing his eyes in the dream, Tanjiro thought of the hug his mother used to wrap him in, holding him so tight he almost couldn’t breathe. Finally, in the darkness, he admitted to himself that he missed those hugs as tears slipped from his eyes.
He missed everyone.
Tanjiro was woken by the familiar sensation of someone petting his head. He inhaled sharply and was overwhelmed by Inosuke and Zentisu’s scents. His eyes flew open and he found himself sandwiched between the two of them. His head was resting on Inosuke’s arm, who had rolled over at some point and was now facing him. Inosuke’s other arm was draped over his side. Behind him, Zenitsu’s forehead was pressed into his back, below his shoulder blades. Zentisu was curled in the fetal position, his hands resting against his chest as he breathed softly. Inosuke’s breathing was the same peaceful pace as Zenitsu’s.
Since they were both still asleep, Tanjiro wanted to avoid waking them — it wasn’t often that they got a good night’s rest before a battle. Tanjiro craned his head back, looking up to see Nezuko gently patting his hair. When she noticed he was looking at her, her eyes softened, the way they did when she smiled.
"Nezuko? When did you wake up?" Tanjiro whispered.
Nezuko tilted her head to the left and blinked, hand stilling on Tanjiro's hair.
“Nezuko-chan is awake?” Zenitsu mumbled, voice heavy with sleep.
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry for waking you Zenitsu,” Tanjiro whispered.
“No worries,” he said with a yawn, “I woke up earlier anyway.”
“What?”
“Oi Kentarou, you’re not crying anymore?” Inosuke asked groggily.
Tanjiro sat up quickly to free the other boy’s arm. “I was crying?”
“In your sleep, like a weakling.”
“You were having a nightmare,” Zenitsu explained. “You kept saying it was cold and you were lost. We tried to wake you up but you just wouldn’t wake up.”
“You shut up when I touched you cause I’m so great,” Inosuke boasted, grinning proudly as he puffed out his chest.
Zenitsu struggled not to roll his eyes before continuing, “You calmed down when we got closer and it was so warm we just ended up falling asleep.”
“Oh… thank you both.” Tanjiro looked back at Nezuko. “You too Nezuko. I don’t remember any of what happened, but maybe it had something to do with one of the demon’s blood art. It feels so incredibly sad…” Tanjiro looked down at his hands, seeing his familiar calluses and scars.
“... Well whatever it was, we dealt with it,” Zenitsu offered. “And we probably wouldn’t have slept as well if we’d been cold. Think of it as repayment for helping me get to sleep.”
Tanjiro smiled. “Thank you.” He looked over at Inosuke, still smiling. “Thank you too Inosuke.”
“It was nothing for a man as great as me.”
“Still, thank you. All of you,” Tanjiro said, reaching out and taking Nezuko’s hand in his. “Let’s go beat these demons.”
“Hell yeah!” Inosuke growled, leaping to his feet, brandishing his swords.
“Are you ever quiet?” Zenitsu asked.
“Shut up Kensoko!”
“That’s not my name!”
“Who cares!”
Tanjiro stood, laughing good-naturedly at their bickering. It had been a long night, but with a hint of sun shimmering in the ice-wrapped trees, a new day had come.
Together they would defeat the demons at the top of the mountain and avenge the villagers who had been killed.