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Inosuke wasn't truly as dumb as he sometimes wanted people to think. Sure, he could neither read nor write, but he spoke well enough, and he had gotten through fifteen years of life just fine, thank you. Sure, now he was encountering a fair amount more challenging situations than he had previously, but to at least some degree, he understood that would be part of the package when it came to the Slayer Corps.
For instance, he knew very well that Kamado Tanjiro's name was, in fact, Kamado Tanjiro. But had you ever seen the way the guy got all flustered and mad when you got his name wrong? It was easily one of the top ten most entertaining things Inosuke had ever seen. He liked getting farther and farther from any involved syllables the longer Tanjiro pressed him to correct himself, and seeing how long it would take for him to just sigh in resignation and give up (so far the running record was fifteen tries, because he had to mentally count the fingers on his left hand twice). He also knew how much Tanjiro hated when anyone got testy about Nezuko or said anything ill of her. They all knew she was a demon, but by the name alone. Sure, she had clawed fingernails, sharp fanged teeth, and her pupils would dilate into a narrow slit like a wild animal's sometimes, but Inosuke had been around plenty of terrible things, demons and wild animals alike, and Kamado Nezuko was only less gentle than her shoreline seafoam wave of an older brother when she was angry. And who wasn't, really?
They were traveling, as they often were, and some merchant had gotten angry. He'd seen Nezuko-- it was after dark, and she was actually awake (she'd opened the door to the box she rode around in while Zenitsu was trailing behind, complaining he was tired, and he'd perked right up and, much to the favor of all involved ears, shut right up as well). And at first he'd been being a skeeve about her-- Oh, what's such a pretty young thing doing traveling with a bunch of boys? Wouldn't you prefer a grown man, sweetheart? Inosuke didn't really understand what the difference was between three Slayer Corps teenagers and a "grown man", but his tone grated on his nerves, and he'd watched both Kamado siblings bristle. Tanjiro, naturally, had explained she was his younger sister, but thank you very much for your concern about her well-being, sir, and the man had gotten ornery. He may have been drunk, in retrospect, but he'd hauled off and socked Tanjiro neatly in the cheek and things went south. Tanjiro, of course, took the hit like a champ, but tension coiled like a spring in Nezuko's shoulders and Inosuke watched her pupils slit sharp like a wildcat's before she stepped between the man and her brother, snarling behind the bamboo set against her jaw.
Swears were shouted, insults were slung, and Tanjiro thwacked his unnaturally hard head directly into the man's forehead before storming off ahead of them once he was sure there would be no more arguments from him. The other three followed, Nezuko quietly shrinking and climbing her way back into her box to avoid any further troubles along the way. It sucked, really, because they were all a fair amount in better spirits whenever Nezuko was out and walking with them, but especially Tanjiro. Well, especially Tanjiro and Zenitsu, but at least Tanjiro's raised spirits were pleasant and not mooning like a slobbering puppy.
They made camp roughly an hour later, and Tanjiro took first watch while Zenitsu and Inosuke slept. Or, that's how it was meant to go, except Inosuke had no real intention of sleeping just yet. He read his teammates (and that's what they were, at this juncture, a team) better than he let on, and Tanjiro was tense and weary in a way he wasn't, terribly often, and it didn't sit right with the wildman. Even Zenitsu seemed to have noticed, but when Tanjiro insisted for a third time as he sat upwind of their camp to sniff out any potential dangers that he was fine, he'd slunk under his haori and let it go. Inosuke was a far more stubborn beast, and waited until he heard the faint whistling sound that signaled Zenitsu's descent into slumber before he got to his feet and quietly made his way to whom he would never verbally admit he considered their leader.
"Monjiro," he called, with just enough volume to be heard and not startle the Slayer, but not enough to disturb anyone else. Tanjiro was sitting upright, Nezuko's box just to his side, and only startled slightly when it occurred to him that Inosuke was supposed to be sleeping.
"Tanjiro," he corrected without pause, a frown creasing the scar on his head. "You're supposed to be sleeping, Inosuke." Instead, Inosuke nodded his head toward the open space on the other side of Tanjiro, seeming to ignore his statement. Tanjiro glanced from his comrade to the ground beside him and folded his legs to the side, allowing him to sit. "Is something bothering you?"
Of course he would worry about someone else. Of course he would. Inosuke rolled his eyes under his mask.
"Yes," he said flatly. "It's not like you to lie." Tanjiro seemed confused, but his tone was pleasant, mild as ever.
"Mm-hmm, and what'd I lie about, Inosuke?" One day, he would surpass this kindhearted idiot and headbutt him so hard he learned sense.
"You told Monitsu you were fine, three times." This seemed to startle Tanjiro, and his eyebrows creased together, pulling the scar on his forehead into a different shape. His tone was still mild when he spoke again, thoughtful, but chiding.
"Zenitsu," he corrected first, smiling, and shook his head. "And I didn't lie, I am fine. You both need rest, we still have probably three days' travel ahead of us, and who knows what this mission will be l--" Inosuke stopped him there.
"You aren't fine. You never are, when someone is ugly about Nezuko." That, at least, made him shut up for a moment. He flinched, caught, and Inosuke realized that his hand was resting against the side of the box his sister slept in. He averted his gaze, frowning, and hummed. His tone, infuriatingly, was mild like it always fucking was, still.
"I am," he insisted, and Inosuke really wanted to see how far he'd come in his quest to headbutt this Water-Breathing nimrod into the stratosphere, but held back long enough to let him finish. "That man didn't know Nezuko. It upsets me when people won't take the time to understand, but he has no reason to believe us. Humans live in fear of demons, and it's probably especially frightening to see one traveling with Slayers." He looked weary again, and Inosuke ground his teeth together, exhaling harshly through the nose of his mask.
"Why understand the ignorance of that idiot if he won't even try to understand you?" It was a startlingly thoughtful question, for both of them. Tanjiro's expression slackened and he watched the pelt on Inosuke's head with a blank, but somewhat hunted look on his face. It just annoyed Inosuke further, until he reached up and pulled the thing off, holding it in his lap. "Well?"
"I--...," Tanjiro, stumped, looked down at his own lap. "It's... the right thing to do." His tone was uncertain, and Inosuke took great pride in having managed to rattle him.
"It's a waste of your time. Nezuko is kinder to humans than most are to each other. You don't have to explain yourself, or her, to anyone." He couldn't put his finger on why this was so important, or why he needed Tanjiro to understand it, but he couldn't stand the tension that pulled his shoulders tight, that even now tugged them closer to the hanafuda earrings he wore.
"Two wrongs don't make a right, Inosuke," Tanjiro said, and his voice was infuriatingly quiet.
"It's been way more than two wrongs," he countered, and Tanjiro's fingernails scraped against the wood of Nezuko's box as he curled his fingers into a fist.
"Inosuke--"
"Tanjiro."
Ah, good. That also shut him up. See, this was why he'd never let him think he knew his name. It made actually using it so much more impressive!
Sometimes Tanjiro forgot how startlingly green Inosuke's eyes were, with how infrequently he saw them. He tried to pretend that wasn't at least half the reason his breath caught when he turned to look at his friend. His mouth snapped shut with an audible click, and he had the grace to look scolded. He sort of expected Inosuke to grin triumphantly at making him shrink away from him, but he just kept an unnervingly level gaze on him, tilting his head forward as though he were asking him to continue.
Or try again, as he realized.
"...I can't change what people think of her," he said quietly, and finally glanced away from that sharp stare. Inosuke was really unsettling sometimes! The feral Slayer grumbled a sigh and leaned back on his hands, staring at the treeline above their heads.
"No, but you know Monitsu and me don't think like that," he offered. Tanjiro frowned and leaned his head slightly toward Inosuke.
"And I," he corrected, and Inosuke really would have hit him were he not actually getting somewhere with him.
"Hah?"
"...Zenitsu," he added, looking back at his face with a slight smile. "And I, is the proper way to say that sentence." Inosuke was proud of himself for closing his eyes and not just rolling them right at him.
"Monitsu and I, then, is this a pep talk or a grammar lesson?" He bared his teeth, and Tanjiro's smile became a quiet laugh. It made Inosuke's stomach feel tight, but he didn't mind it so much.
"Is that what this is? Are you giving me a pep talk, Inosuke?" The smile stayed, and so did the tightness behind his navel. It sort of itched.
"You're really ugly when you're upset," he seethed, and Tanjiro just fucking laughed again. It was like he wanted him to hit him.
"Oh, well I'm sorry, but thank you for the pep talk," he was still laughing, and Inosuke was caught between really enjoying the sound and wanting to beat his fist into his head until he shut up entirely for a while. He shifted his weight, balling his hand into a fist, and reached out--
--except when his hand came down on Tanjiro's head it wasn't in a fist anymore, and he was clapping it open-palmed over the top of his head and rubbing, making absolutely no change in the wiry disaster that was the Water-Breather's hair. Tanjiro froze. Inosuke let his hand keep moving, fascinated by both the texture of Tanjiro's hair and the way he had gone stock still like a statue. The burgundy-haired teenager turned his head slowly to stare with wide eyes at Inosuke's unperturbed ones. Inosuke decided he liked the feeling of Tanjiro's hair. No wonder Nezuko did this all the time.
"Your hair feels like boar fur," he provided, like it was the answer to every question whizzing through Tanjiro's mind at that moment. "I like it." Tanjiro made a sound a bit like something very small being stepped on, which Inosuke figured suited him just fine, and his face started to turn a diluted shade of scarlet, which also suited him just fine. "What?"
Tanjiro turned back to stare at his lap again, and Inosuke noticed his ears were also turning red. He stopped moving his hand, but left it on top of his head.
"...thank you," he said, and Inosuke squinted. "Um, for the... pep talk. And the headpats," Inosuke squinted more, the expression almost a grimace. "...I'll be okay. It bothers me, but... Having her with me means way more than what anyone thinks of her, and having you and Zenitsu care for her almost as much as I do means more than I know how to say." That was saying something, since Tanjiro knew how to say a whole fucking lot of things, really. He slowly moved his hand from the other's head, and the expression Tanjiro turned to him with made his stomach do a somersault like it was turning itself completely inside-out. He had to take a moment to glance down at his belly-button just to make sure it hadn't done just that, and his squinting fully became a grimace. Tanjiro's face was still this weird shade of muted red, especially around his eyes and to his ears, and he had the most infuriatingly soft smile on his face. Inosuke simultaneously wanted to hit him, pet his hair again, and throw up.
"I take it back, you're even uglier when you're being called out for being upset," he spat, and Tanjiro's face scrunched up into a smile and he laughed again. Inosuke was glad that the sound covered up the way his breath got stuck in his throat. He hefted his mask out of his lap and ground it back down over his head, snarling and hoping the warmth to his face wasn't obvious. "Don't praise me with that look on your face, I'll beat the tar out of you."
"Okay, okay. Thank you, Inosuke. You should go get some sleep." Good thing he was already standing.
"Don't tell me what to do," Inosuke growled, scuffing the ground with his shoe. He reached out and set his hand atop Nezuko's box, rubbing it there for a moment much like he had with Tanjiro's hair, and somehow Tanjiro's smile got softer.
"She'd probably like it if you pet her head, too," he said. Inosuke huffed through the nostrils of his mask again.
"Then maybe I will! Now shut up and keep watch." He pointed, but with his whole hand instead of one finger. Tanjiro kept laughing, waving him off with an agreeable noise. Inosuke stormed his way back down to the camp where Zenitsu was still making a faint whistling snore of a sound, and pulled the fur from his waist to lay under. He lay still for a while, eyes closed, but didn't quite reach the point of drifting off. A soft huff later, he picked his head up.
Tanjiro was leaning to the side on one hip, the weary tension out of his shoulders, and one propped up against the side of Nezuko's box.
Inosuke would have denied the smile on his face if anyone had been able to see it.