Chapter Text
The tools at one's disposal define how one moves through the world. Stubby fingers grasping up at hard, calloused hands. Skin hardened with time and work, just to be looked upon with pride. Fives sets of big, round, eyes that followed his every move. Respect was earned with every thick callus that marred these hands. Role models created with every expanse of scar tissue that sliced from thumb to forefinger, even if it were for a stupid reason. But doing the right thing was always worth it, even if it meant bloody hands and bandage set fingers. Yes, the hands were the most expressive aspect of any person, as they were the main way one could affect the world around them and change it for the better.
Or at least, that was how Tanjirou saw it.
“Rokuta! Please stay still!” Tanjirou’s voice took on a strained sound as he pleaded with the toddler in his lap.
In response, his baby brother smacked his cheeks together and giggled at the way it deformed his face. “Fishy!”
“Yes, yes, I’m a fish, see?” Tanjirou’s hands envelope those stubby, inexplicably sticky ones and pressed into his own cheeks. The expression exaggerates to the point where his upper lip hits his nose, and he’s sure he looks ridiculous, but it does its job and has Rokuta giggling with delight. “Good. Now, up?”
Rokuta finally did as he had been asked for the past half-hour, and held his stubby arms up to the ceiling to allow Tanjirou to slip the shirt over his head. Tanjirou starts his day- everyday- with getting Rokuta dressed at about four in the morning. Rokuta was usually too tired in the mornings to even think of refusing, but there was a current of anxiety running through the house that morning, to the point that even Tanjirou couldn’t ignore it.
He still tried to, of course. “You look so grown up Rokuta!” He smiled at the way his baby brother preened at the compliment, “Go show Takeo, Hanako and Shigeru, please?”
Rokuta nodded and had padded into Takeo’s room when Tanjirou heard his mother call his name.
He slid into the kitchen with his hair half done, and midway though tying the apron being his back, “Sorry mom I-” he reels back, when an oversized wooden peel is swung inches from his face as his mom turns to see him.
“What took you so long, baby?” His mother asked. She was already decked out in her apron and gloves, black hair pulled into a tight knot at the top of her head. The peel in her hands only served to complete her look. The bakery had already been in full swing a hour ago, and despite the bags under her eyes, his mother always greeted Tanjirou with the kind of unwavering determination he hoped to project.
He couldn’t help but smile as the smell of freshly baked bread hit his nose. “Sorry about that, Rokuta was being a little difficult this morning for some reason.” He said, already in the process of rolling out dough on the already flour covered counter top.
“Hm… He must be worried. This will be the longest time you and Nezuko will be away from him after all.” She wielded that peel like it was a sword, laying out the breads fresh from the oven to cool.
For a second, a whiff of hesitation hit his nose, but it was gone just as quick as it came. Tanjirou took a moment to at the very least try to quell her nerves, “Mom, you don’t have to worry about us. We’re not kids any more, and I promise I’ll protect Nezuko. We’ll be back before you can even blink!” His smile is genuine, even if it catches a bit on its corners.
Sadness mixed with nostalgia gave the air a dizzying quality. The peel is dropped where it once was, clattering to the ground when his mother wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I know you’ll protect Nezuko, but I’m here to protect you. That’s what moms are for,” She pulls back and looks at him with that fondness reserved for those special people in your life who changed your diapers and decided to love you anyways. “You know you’ll always be my baby,” and to punctuate that sentence, she swipes her thumb at his cheek, presumably to rid his face of any excess flour.
“Moooom…” He feigns annoyance, but there's no bite to his voice. He’s lucky to have her in his life at all. The smell of burning intrudes on their little heart to heart and they both panic to get everything under control, but this was his every day. And he wouldn’t change that for the world.
++++++++
He had decorated the last of the sugar cookies when Takeo stumbled down the stairs, looking sleep addled and bleary eyed at six in the morning. “Good Morning!”
“Hmm…” Takeo barely responds, instead heading straight for a glass of water. He downs it in one pull, and finally seems awake enough for pleasantries. “Morning…”
“Where’s Hanako?” Tanjirou asks. Of his three middle siblings, Hanako was usually the first to rise, more concerned with fussing with her hair than anything.
Takeo has a roll in his mouth, but was polite enough to eat around the words, “Don’t know.”
“Takeo! Don’t eat with your mouth full.” Their mom was less pleased with the development. In response, Takeo forced the entire roll into his mouth. “TAKEO!”
“M’ sorry Ma’!” He says, still doing exactly what he was being scolded for. He wipes his mouth, finally free of food, “I just wanted to get some practice in with Tanjirou. You know, before the trip.” Ah, ok.
They both looked to their mom, who shrugged. “I’m nearly done stocking up for the day, you guys go have fun.” The sigh that fell from her lips as she watched her boys almost clipping the door frame racing outside was a fond one. “And Tanjirou? Thank you for your help today.”
+++++
Tanjirou and Takeo had always had a good relationship, but recently it had been strained. His mother said it was only because Takeo was at that difficult age of fourteen. Tanjirou personally didn’t remember being so prickly at fourteen, but was reassured by his mother, and his father and his sisters, and his brothers (including Takeo), and his friends, and the mailman and- ok the point was that while Tanjirou understood the growing pains of adulthood, it didn’t make it any easier to interact with his kid brother. Takeo’s anger tended to flare up at any mention of help and well, Tanjirou was always helpful.
The two could never see eye to eye, but learning sword techniques was the one thing they could do together without it devolving into a squabble. And eventually, it became their own sudo language. The ferocity of Takeo's strikes would contrast with the sloppiness of his stance, while Tanjirou’s own style was perfected, yet stilted in its own way.
Tanjirou hefted the bamboo sword in his hands, then tested its weight. It’s light, in comparison with their father’s real sword, but just heavy enough to feel right when he tests a swing that cleaves through the air. “Alright then. Show me what you’ve learned.”
The younger lunges to strike, his elbows pulled close to his chest. He’s gotten better. Tanjirou thinks as he pulls back, dodging the swing easily. Frustration fills the air, although it doesn’t feel particularly directed at anyone. It’s just there. Of all his siblings, Takeo was always the hardest to get a read on, at least for Tanjirou. Still, having this outlet made things a little clearer.
“Little Gonpachiro! Now!” That shout is all the warning he got before someone gripped his shoulders from behind, keeping him rooted to the ground as Takeo threw his practice sword aside and slammed his forehead into Tanjirou’s.
Tanjirou’s skull was notoriously thick- both mentally and physically, but the force of the motion is enough to stagger him. He pitches backwards and falls on his butt, just in time to see Inoskue leap out from behind to high five Takeo, who was...also on the ground, clutching his skull.
You’d think that’d put a damper on the celebration, but not for Inoskue, no, Tanjirou just watched as his kid brother was hoisted in the air by his best friend, who continued to scream in abject joy. “WE DID IT! WE BEAT GENGORO!” Pain subsides faster in victory, he presumes, as Takeo is easily taken in by the manic energy Inosuke projects.
“Just so you know,” Genya adds, as he rounds the corner, “I had nothing to do with this stupid plan of his.”He offers Tanjirou a hand and grimaces at the smile that’s plastered itself onto Tanjirou’s face. “You would be the one to be happy about it too…”
And he genuinely was, “Takeo that was amazing! How did you guys come up with that plan?!”
At that, a mix of pride and embarrassment hits his nose as both Inosuke and Takeo blush at the praise, He even catches a hint of fondness from Genya, despite the other boy’s expression (or lack thereof). Inosuke is the first to recover, “With my brawn and brains, you were always going to lose!” Inosuke boats.
Takeo is less boisterous, and subsequently less confident, “Well, he’s the only one i’ve seen even come close to beating you. So I...trained.” He asked for help. Something in Tanjirou welled up with pride, yet simultaneously shattered into a million pieces. It was good that Takeo knew that he could safely get help from the people in his life… even if he wasn’t comfortable getting that help from Tanjirou. He forces the revelation to the back of his mind, instead opting to focus on Takeo’s now more emboldened words. ”I’m going to beat you one on one someday. Just you wait!”
“Wait your turn! Gonpachiro is my minion and I want to fight him.” Inoskue shouts.
The conversation devolved into a lot of shouting and laughing and Tanjirou dodging actually fighting his friend. Takeo’s friends find him shortly after that, and that leaves Tanjirou to just...sit. And chat. It’s nice, Tanjirou hadn't hung out with his friends for a while, so it was good to see them looking more or less happy and healthy.
It doesn’t last long. He has a long list of chores, and they won’t get done if he doesn’t get started. Inosuke balks at the thought of something being more important than his impromptu rematch with Tanjirou, but falls into a quiet reverence when his mother comes out onto the patio with a broom in hand, and waves. Genya sighs, more or less used to the way that wild energy is subsided for a quiet introspection. “We’re going to head out now. You sure you don’t need any help Tanjirou?”
“I’m fine, I promise. But tell your brother I said hi. Your grandma too, Inosuke!” He bids them goodbye, and watches them shrink into the distance before letting out a sigh of his own. He’s got a lot more work to do today.
+++++++++
When he enters the room, it’s quiet and still. Tanjirou places the tray down and moves to open the blinds. The sunlight is warm and inviting, and has someone squirming in the sheets. He pulls them back, unintentionally waking a wriggling Rokuta from his mid morning nap and intentionally waking his father. His father is a tall, gaunt man, with thinning red hair and shadows under his eyes. He blinks up at Tanjirou, accidentally mirroring Rokuta’s confused expression. “Good morning! You’re looking better today!”
His father is slow to wake up in the mornings, a side effect of the illness that racks his body. But he sits up with a smile, pulling Rokuta into his lap, “And you’re as chipper as ever.”
Today was a good day then. He was responsive and the recognition in his eyes was comforting. Tanjirou let his breath go before balancing the tray on his bedside “Here, mom made you breakfast.”
“You hear that Rokuta? Mom made us breakfast.”
Tanjirou sighs, “no, she made you breakfast. You’re the one who has to eat to regain your strength. Besides, Rokuta ate earlier.” No matter what he says, his father will still spoil Rokuta. It was their routine, and Tanjirou didn’t have the heart to spoil it.
Instead he went about the room, changing blankets, sweeping, dusting. and helping his father get ready for the day.
“Takeo is getting really good with a sword.” Tanjirou says absently.
“Oh really now?”
“Yea! Today, he beat me! Although he had a little help from Inosuke.” Tanjirou beamed with pride as he folded a quilt over his arm.
“Wow, that proves how good of a teacher you are.” His father said, and Rokuta babbled as if to agree.
Tanjirou allowed himself to preen at the compliment, before diving back into his work. “Not really, I only know so much because you taught me.”
“But you’re the one who decided to pursue it. And I couldn’t be more proud-” The praise is capped by a fit of convulsion that leaves Tanjirou scrambling for the forgotten medicine and a glass of water. His father takes it, with a nod, thanking the boy, but Tanjirou’s anxieties aren’t alleviated until he sees the medicine go down smoothly. They sit in silence a moment, Rokuta oblivious to the tension in the air, happily burbling and looking at Tanjirou as he tries not to think about what could have happened if he weren’t there.
His father’s voice brings him back to himself as a deep sorrow drifts his way. “I...I’m sorry Tanjirou.” He goes to interrupt, but his father raises a hand and has his jaw clicking shut. “You shouldn’t have to care for me. You should be out there with your friends.”
“But I like caring for you. You guys are my family.” Tanjirou says, and he means every word.
It is gratitude this time, that floats in the air between them, gratitude tinged with doubt, but gratitude nonetheless. “Even still, you’re a young man, you shouldn’t be hanging around a invalid all day. You should be exploring and going on adventures and…” His voice trails off when he sees the old Shamisen collecting dust in the corner. And Tanjirou smiled, knowing exactly what would be said. “I used to play that old thing all the time, just letting the music take me where I needed to be. It was how I met your mother after all.”
Tanjirou took in the contentness that radiated off his father. For all the hardships his parents suffered together, they were still just as in love as the day they were wed. “I promise I’ll go out soon, but not until you finish eating. And please stop feeding Rokuta.”
He doesn’t stop feeding Rokuta because he has big red eyes and knows exactly how to plead to get what he wants, but Tanjirou doesn’t mind, not really. He didn’t mind it yesterday, or the day before that. And he wouldn’t have his life any other way.
+++++++++
Tanjirou brought the (thankfully) empty tray down the stairs and is met by the three women of his life who have varying reactions to his entrance.
His mother was the first to see him descend the stairs, and greeted him with a silent wave as she handed off a brown paper bag. Hanako was on the other end of the spectrum, not even bothering to hide her disdain for her eldest brother and quickly retreating at the sight of him. Nezuko however, being the even keel of all his siblings, simply nods at his arrival, then continues going about filling orders with the steel tongs and paper bags.
“Is Hanako still mad at me?” He asked Nezuko, while retrying his apron.
Nezuko looked at Tanjirou, and then at the tongs in her hands and then back at him. “Oh, right. Sorry!” Nezuko rolls her eyes at him, but there’s no malice in the air. Of all his siblings, Nezuko was the least likely to hide her emotions, especially on a day like today, when excitement cascaded off her shoulders like a torrent of rain. That easygoing openness sometimes had him forgetting that she preferred to sign. She was easily the most expressive of his entire family, finding that sign language and expressions were more than enough to get her points across. It was a lot harder for her when they were younger, and Tanjirou can’t help but smile when he sees the confident young woman she’s become.
Nezuko pulled him from his thoughts by shoving a brown paper bag into his chest and pointing at a chair before signing, Yes, she’s still mad. I would be too if you headbutted my friend and scared the rest away. And no, I’m not going to help you with that one. Now eat or I’ll tell mom.
Which is how Tanjirou decidedly ignores his social faux pas, and chooses instead to focus on the fact that he hadn't eaten all day. He thanked Nezuko, and after scarfing down a hastily made sandwich, took over the storefront so his mom could check up on Rokuta and his dad. Tanjirou wasn’t as efficient as Nezuko, or as charming as mom, but he did a decent job of holding down the fort. He took orders with a smile, and packed them away in a sprightly manner, and counted the change correctly and that’s all he really needed to do. Still, he was extremely proud of the small business his parents had built.
After a while, the morning rush slowed, and Tanjirou had a moment. “Nezuko, was Hanako really still mad at me?” He couldn’t help but ask into the silence. Nezuko blinked at him, then slowly and deliberately picked up the clipboard with the bakery’s inventory on it, before slowly heading to the back. He’ll take that as a solid maybe.
The bell chimes the front door, and he perks up to see Shigeru, looking a little worse for wear. The kid had dust on his hands and knees, and a little bit in his hair too. His face was splotched red as well, although that could mean anything from running to crying. He was worried when the sour curd of anxiety hit his nose, but he didn’t mention it. His younger brother had always been empathic, and the last thing he wanted was to have him pick up on Tanjirou’s own anxieties. Shigeru was a good kid. Outside of Rokuta, he was always the closest to tears, although he put on a brave face, and at seven went out of his way to be helpful around the house and in the bakery. Tanjirou offered up his most welcoming smile and was met with a worried lip and red knuckles to match his face.
In situations like these, it was best to just let Shigeru open up on his own. “There’s still some cookies that need to be iced, do you want to help?” Tanjirou asked and the younger boy nodded. “Alrightly then, go get washed up.”
Shigeru did, and came back looking slightly less grimy. His face was still red in some places, but at the very least he didn’t look like he was about to devolve into tears. For the rest of that lull between customers, the two brothers frost more sugar cookies. They’re...not great. Tanjirou had never been an artist, and while Shigeru had inherited their father’s flair for the creative, that didn’t exactly translate to steady hands and perfect piping.
“So, what happened out there?” Tanjirou asks, breaking Shigeru's concentration. He squeezes too hard and the star shaped cookie is buried under an avalanche of yellow frosting. “It’s ok! It can be fixed. Or at least eaten.” He swipes a finger through the sweet cream and eats it, to the shock of Shigeru. He’d just broken the cardinal rule of the bakery: no eating the merchandise. Tanjirou had figured that they wouldn’t be able to sell any of the stuff anyways, with the cookies looking more like an art-project than anything.
Shigeru looks forlorn for a moment, and then gives in and starts eating icing too. “It’s just... it’s stupid. It's nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Shigeru said after a while, sounding a lot like Takeo in the moment.
“It’s not nothing. Not if it’s bothering you.” Tanjirou replied, ignoring that anxiety feeling at the base of his spine, and instead focused on maintaining a casual tone.
“Well...I guess I can tell you. But-but don’t headbutt them! They’re still my friends...I think.” He shoved his discomfort of his past actions aside, and chose instead to focus on Shigeru’s next few words. “A new girl wanted to play with us today. Her name is Mina, and she’s really nice! But now Mina and Yuki are best friends! And she doesn't want to play with me anymore... She said I was a crybaby and we had a big fight. Now, she only ever wants to play with Shoya and Mina now, even though we were best friends first…”
Tanjirou has never smelled such a fresh sadness. Crisp and cool. He wished there was something he could do, but… “Shigeru, it’s ok if Yuki doesn’t want to play with you because you have a whole world of new people to play with!” He says with careful optimism. Feelings of inadequacy were difficult to approach, and even harder to correct.
Shigeru’s frown deepened and that anxious through line that’d followed him the whole day weaved through the air and stung his nose. “Tanjirou, do you think I’m a crybaby?”
There was something so vulnerable about that simple question that for a moment he’s at a loss for words. It takes a moment for him to settle on what he wants to say, but when he does find the words, it is said with conviction. “I don’t think you’re a crybaby Shigeru.”
“But-“
“-crying doesn’t make you a crybaby.” He cuts his sibling off, then adds hastily “Plus It’s good to cry sometimes. It means you’re human.”
The tension in the air lifts ever so slightly, but Shigeru seems calmed by his proclamation. And in spite of the heavy atmosphere, the two still had fun. Tanjirou dotted buttercream on Shigeru’s nose when he wasn’t looking, and Shigeru was quick to press his icing stained hands into Tanjirou's apron. The resulting food fight was fun and… somewhat messy. Nezuko signed really passive aggressively at them to clean up, but it was worth seeing Shigeru smile, if only for a little while.
+++++++
Night fell quickly, and after spending a majority of the day either behind the counter or in the back room, Tanjirou was relieved to see the sign on the window flipped. But even then, the work was never done.
Nezuko stood next to him bouncing on the heels of her shoes as they stood before their mother. “Do you have everything you need?” His mom furrows her brows as Rokuta reaches out from her hip to grasp at the air between them. “The money, the inventory list, the-”
Nezuko’s hands move like a blur, and Tanjirou only catches half of what seemed like Yes, I know what I’m doing, can we go now? Please?
The eldest daughter of the Kamado family was the most adventurous of her numerous siblings, always looking out to sea whenever she’d gotten the chance. Their small hometown was situated on a cliffside that faced the raging ocean, and all too often Tanjirou would be sent out to look for his sister, only to find her gaze fixed on some arbitrary point on the horizon. Not that Tanjirou could blame her, the world was a beautiful place. It just held no interest for him. He was content with his small corner of the world.
Nezuko most certainly wasn’t though, and had found her ticket across the sea with the inventory shipments used to run the bakery. Every month or so, their mother would take a merchant ship to the nearby port town. She said it was because the flour and sugar mills had better prices than the local market stalls and no one questioned that, except Nezuko. Nezuko could haggle and barter with the best of them, and was sure she could get finagle better prices than her mother. Traveling was simply a bonus. Their mother thought it this a good first trip to satiate Nezuko’s growing appetite for the unknown, while Tanjirou had his doubts.
It wasn’t that he thought any less of his sister, she was the most persuasive person on earth when she wanted to be, but that didn’t make the world any more welcoming. From the stories his father told, the world was a jagged place that, if caught unaware would tear you apart. He was unsuprised when his mother asked him to accompany her across the sea.
He is reeled back into reality by Rokuta, who caught a strand of Nezuko’s hair and stuffs it- alongside his entire fist- into his mouth. “Rokuta- no.” Mom scolds the toddler, who doesn’t seem perturbed by the scolding in the slightest, but let’s go. Their mother looks a little frayed at the edges, it was a busy day today, but there seems to be something more to it than that. The air smells heavy with anxiety, like a torrent of rain yet shed. “I’m sorry, I just want to make sure you guys have everything. This is the first time you’ll be so far away from me.”
Nezuko’s eyes soften at the words, and she wraps her arms around their mother. The edge in the air mellows but still underlines every interaction.
“Promise me you’ll look out for each other?” Their mother pleads, looking Tanjirou in the eyes.
“I promise. We’ll be back before you know it tomorrow morning!” If Tanjirou’s optimism were a tangible force in this world, they would have done just that. The trip would have been as uneventful as described and the morning light would have delivered the siblings in good health. If only.
++++++++++
Nezuko stared unblinkingly into the eyes of the flour mill owner. The coins had already exchanged hands and Tanjirou had a sack of flour under each arm, but Nezuko had refused to move, rooting herself to the floor and just...engaging in an impromptu staring contest.
Someone must have blinked during Tanjirou’s confusion, because no sooner had he settled the flour in his arms did the mill owner say, “Well miss, you sure do drive a hard bargain. Grab another one, it’s on the house.”
Nezuko nodded with a smile and slung the final canvas sack over her shoulder, before checking something off on the inventory.
“You two take care now. And tell Kamado I said hello!”
Tanjirou flashed a smile the man’s way, “We will!”
The walk back to the ship was uneventful, but the change in Nezuko’s demeanor wasn’t. She was enraptured by the speed at which the city moved, the way everything bustled with motion in a way that their small town just...didn’t. The new faces and sounds and sights were so enchanting, that she had to stop periodically to take it all in, even with a canvased sack in her arms.
Tanjirou wasn’t nearly as impressed. To him, it was all overwhelming. Salt was the most prominent scent on the wind, disorienting him by robbing him of his strongest sense. Not to mention having so many people in one place made him feel crowded and claustrophobic. Still, seeing this new side of his younger sister made him preen with pride. It was definitely worth the trip.
Still, he couldn’t deny his own relief that the trip was close to over. He wanted to rid himself of this creeping unease that had followed him since those early morning hours to now as he watched the sun disappear beyond the horizon. That anxiety that sizzled and popped just beneath his skin that threatened to overcome that kind and caring veneer he’d worked so hard to cultivate and expose him for what he truly was.
But what was he?
Tanjirou knew he was lucky. To be born into such a kind and caring family, to be loved unconditionally. Not everyone had that security, and so he threw everything he had into being the eldest child. They all depended on him after all. Which only made his missteps more prominent. Sighing, he thought of Hanako. He should really do something nice for her.
“Nezuko, do you think Hanako would like one of those ribbons?” He asked, as they passed a stall that was filled to bursting with charms and paperweights and toys, all painted bright, gaudy colors. The back row was lined with these perfectly tied silk ribbons in an assortment of colors. He wandered over, not really thinking about the consequences, or the fact that Nezuko couldn’t really respond to him while carrying that sack of flower. His eyes were glued to the red one, rimmed with gold thread that shone in the sparse light of the street lamps.
“Ah, looking for a nice gift for that special girl in your life?” Said the salesmen who appeared out of nowhere. He was slick and slimy and obviously not trustworthy in the slightest.
But not to Tanjirou, no, who’s eyes sparkled and shone, “How’s you know?!”
“Lucky guess,” Said the man with the too wide smile. “And if I were you, I’d pick up one of these,” He refers to the ribbons, all of which sparkled like gems in the moment. “Custom-made with silk from China and dyed their vibrant colors with techniques perfected in India. These ribbons are completely unique, the only ones in existence.”
And of course Tanjirou was completely taken in by this snake oil salesman. “I’ll take the red one! How much is it?” He asked, almost dropping the flour in his hands.
“It's just nine payments of...Uh, nothing! Nothing at all! it’s on the house! Free of charge! For being such a great customer” He threw the ribbon at Tanjirou’s visibly confused head, and then unfurled the shutter as quickly as possible. It slammed shut and the two were left standing in the street looking confused.
“Wow…What a nice guy!” Tanjirou said, lifting his prize to show Nezuko. Nezuko, for her part only nodded, and if she stared into the soul of that man who tried to con her too-kind brother? Then that was her burden to bear. Sometimes she wondered who was keeping who out of trouble on this trip.
++++++++++++
The siblings had settled into their places aboard the ship just as that deep veil of night draped itself over the sky. Tanjirou looked and felt more exhausted than he’d ever felt wiping down the counters at the bakery, but Nezuko looked the opposite. Looking more energized than anyone had any right to be this late at night.
“Nezuko, do you think Hanako will like the ribbon?” Tanjirou said, smoothing the fabric in his hands. It truly was beautifully made, with golden accents that looked spun from sunlight itself.
Nezuko was less impressed. She won’t want it.
Tanjirou frowned at her, and then lifted the long strip of fabric again. Maybe she’d hadn’t seen how pretty it was the first time.
Apparently she did. It just didn’t matter. It’s pretty, but it won’t get you into Hanako’s good graces. You're not the one who had to console and tell her that her love life was indeed, not over.
“She’s thirteen! She doesn’t have a love life.” Right? His mind reels at the look Nezuko gives him.
Wrong. You’re just because you don’t have a love life doesn’t mean everyone else doesn’t. Stop projecting. And to signal she was done talking to Tanjirou on this particular subject, Nazuko slowly picked up the inventory list and pointedly began reviewing it once more.
Tanjirou sighed, feeling dejected and tried to enjoy the boat's constant rocking. But it was hard to let that anxious feeling go. Tanjirou had only been trying to help, how would he have known that that boy’s advances on his baby sister were...reciprocated. The thought made his stomach churn, but the memory of Hanako’s betrayed face was even worse. He had to do something for her, to apologize for the...rough misunderstanding.
And hopefully this red ribbon would be a good step in the right direction.
++++++++
The ship was already out on open water when the anxiety in the pit of his stomach lurched into the back of his throat and things suddenly went south. The air shifted, and the prevailing smell of the ocean’s spray subsided with something else taking its place. The sharp cutting smell of unshed rain was overwhelming in the moment, and it had him- alongside Nezuko and countless other sailors- running to the upper decks. It was unbridled chaos. A maelstrom of people, some organized in their efforts to salvage any part of their ship that was being torn to shreds, board from board. And others, like Tanjirou and Nezuko, who were stuck in the middle of it all and could only witness the carnage as the ship was tossed among the rough waves.
Some sails were drawn up and spared the winds that swept through the thick, canvased cloth, while others were not so lucky. Cargo fell from the craters being torn into it’s hull and sunk beneath the ocean's waves. The sea was ravenous in its hunger, and it took everything.
And then a bolt of light tore through the muted skyline and struck the main mast, and Tanjirou could only watch as what remained of their sinking ship caught fire like dry kindling. The mast began to fall and time simply stopped. The moment stilled, the lighting froze mid arc over that turbulent sea, and he could see everything. Every person running toward a safety that didn’t exist. Every sailor scrambling to not to lose their lives as they tried to save their livelihood. And his sister, the person he was charged to protect and care for since he was one year old was caught at its center. And he was helpless as the mast’s fiery visage came careening down to meet her.
Tanjirou loves his family, and yet-
When he shoved Nezuko out of the way and was crushed by the wooden beam, the boards beneath his feet splinter and shatter into a million pieces. When the unforgiving cold of the open ocean rushes up to greet him. When his last gasp for breath is muffled by salt and surf.
Tanjirou loves his family, but in that moment, he wasn’t thinking of Nezuko and the bright future that was just within her reach, or his mother’s smile in the mornings when she greets him for another long day at the bakery, or the next few sword techniques he would teach Takeo, or how he was ever going to make up with Hanako, or Shigeru’s lopsided smiles after long teary conversations, or Rokuta’s burbling, one sided conversations, or even his father’s rare smiles when he was just lucid enough to recognize his own son.
At that moment, he thought he was going to die.
The water eagerly claimed his dimming senses, rushing in his ears and filling his nose and eyes with the sting of salt. The burning sensation in his lungs gave way to a heady peace, but he was too far removed from himself to care. The further he sunk to the ocean floor, the more placid he felt. The strangest part it all was that the deeper he sunk into that cold, endless, abyss, the clearer the sun looked in his eyes.
++++++
Tanjirou awoke a month later, although he has no way of knowing it at the time. In fact the only information readily available to him is that his entire body ached in a way he’d never felt before. Not even after training with his father did he feel this worn down and drained. He groaned and suddenly that constant ambiance of a lilting conversation was interrupted the moment he’d noticed it was there at all. There’s a gasp, and when he finally finds the strength to wrench his eyes open, his vision is filled by the pale pink of Nezuko’s eyes, rimmed red with the recent memory of tears and brows pushed together in that worried expression reserved specifically for their ailing father. Their mother is also there, looking equally worried while bouncing a now ecstatic Rokuta on her hip.
“Tanjirou’s awake!” His mother called down the stairs, and a rush of footsteps followed, but he’s distracted by Nezuko. She had knelt at his side and clutched his hand in both of hers as if he’d somehow slip through her fingers. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears and newer, darker circles claim the space just under them. She looked tired.
Every inch of his body aches, but Tanjirou moves to pat her head, like he had a thousand times before. When their mother scolded them for ruining their kimonos right before the fireworks festival, or after a particularly rude customer stormed through the bakery. It was just their thing. A comforting gesture that would have Nezuko humming and leaning into the touch. So why did she cry?
He wanted to ask, to find the words that would fix everything, but that was when his other siblings crowded around his bedside looking just as tired and broken. All except Hanako, who stood dejectedly in the doorway. The effort it took to crane his head to see his baby sister, peaking hesitantly into the room was overwhelming, and had Nezuko scrambling to fix the pillow beneath him, but he needed to say this. “Hanako, I- I’m sorry! I promise I won’t headbutt your friends anymore!”
His voice is hoarse and breaks in places it shouldn’t, and It wasn’t nearly everything he’d wanted to say, but Tanjirou had never been great with words. Still, it was enough to coax her to his bedside. She looked just as worn and tired as the rest of their family, but her smile was genuine. Maybe she’d forgiven him.
Hanako then smacked him up the side of the head. It didn’t hurt as much as it could have, he knew that from experience. Still it was a shock to him, and everyone else as well. “Hanako!” His mother jumped in, holding her hand back when she wound up for a second hit.
But she ignored the woman, pulling her hand from their mom’s grip and with tears falling freely down her cheeks wailed, “You don’t get to be selfless right now! There was so much blood...” She gripped his hand tightly, and looked past the snot and tear tracks running down her face into his eyes. “W-what if I never got to see you again!” Her voice wavered and cracked with every word, but her gaze was steady. “What if you really died?”
In Tanjirou’s mind, if he were being completely honest with himself, there was no room for regret. He didn’t think twice about his actions, and he couldn’t regret them, not then, or now when he looked into Hanako’s puffy, red rimmed eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to lament what he’d done, even if it almost killed him.
So he did what he always did and smiled warmly, “I’m sorry I worried you all, but I’m ok now. I promise.” This declaration only renewed the tears in the eyes of his family members, but the scent of regret subsided enough for him to breath.
A deep, all encompassing relief flooded the room, alongside the contrasting emotions of worry and joy. Scents made him lightheaded, but he was so glad to be surrounded by his family, the people he treasured most. Eventually, exhaustion had wormed its way into his body. His smile sagged and his eyelids drooped, but he tried to stay attentive and alert as his siblings filled him in on all the hijinks he’d missed. It was his mother who’d ordered them out, under the guise of allowing him rest to recuperate. His sleep was pleasant and dreamless. Anxiety forgotten under the tsunami of love he felt from his family and friends.
(The ribbon as well, gone with the tide.)
+++++++++++++++
And so began that long road to recovery. He’d suffered small fractures to both legs and a broken rib. “Lucky you seem to have escaped a concussion,” Doctor Tamayo said, letting his upper and lower eyelids snap back into place. “There’s nothing more I can do for you. Take these pills as needed for your pain. You’re going to have to rest and let your body heal on its own. I’m prescribing you two weeks of bed rest with no work for an entire month, do you think you can do that Tanjirou?” She asks as if she already knows the answer.
“He’s quite the busybody, but I’ll make sure he takes care of himself.” His mother responded for him. He looks between the two women, feeling embarrassed and slightly scandalized.
But doctor Tamayo simply ignores his confusion and addresses his mom, “Kie, I have no doubt that you’ll keep him in line.” What. They’re on a first name basis? How long was he out again?
A headache brewed behind his eyes at the thought of his mother sharing stories of her busybody son, and he’s quick to remind them that this doctor’s appointment was over. “Thank you for taking care of me, Doctor Tamayo.”
“Think nothing of it, it’s my job after all.” The young doctor smiled, and the two women left, chattering on about something or other. In truth, it was nice that his mother had found a friend in the woman, he’d hadn't seen her that happy since before their father was constrained to their bed.
In fact, his entire family seemed renewed with a new sense of purpose. Hanako had begun picking up his shifts at the bakery and found a love for working with the public. Even Nezuko was impressed by the way the girl could charm her friends into an extra pastry or two. And with the two of them taking charge of the bakery, his mother was free to care for Rokuta and their father. It was hard, his mother admitted one day while changing the rag placed over Tanjirou’s head, but also rewarding. Which left Takeo and Shigeru, who had leaned on each other for support. Takeo began teaching Shigeru the same sword techniques that Tanjirou taught him in turn. He was worried at first, but Shigeru seemed to hold himself with a new respect as his budding skills grew, and Takeo’s pridefulness mellowed into a genuine joy at his younger brother’s success.
Everyone seemed to be doing just fine.
Without him.
+++++++++++
The first thing Tanjirou does when he is cleared to walk around is go see his father. The morning light shone through the blinds as he entered, and the sheets had been changed, the windowsill dusted and the work that he’d used to do was already done.
His father still smiled at him when he’d entered though, and that made him feel slightly better. Rokuta stuck his tongue out at him too, which also did something to boost his mood. “Good morning.”
“Good morning Tanjirou, I’m glad to see you healthy again.” His father says, although the scent in the air betrays his true relief. The thought of his bed-ridden father worrying for him was...bittersweet.
“I’m glad you’re doing ok too.” And then, silence. He twiddled his thumbs, at a loss for something to do. Just thrumming with restless energy with no where to focus it.
It must have registered on his face because his father invited him to sit. “Feeling a little...lost?”
“...a little.” Tanjirou admits. He’d always had a strong sense of purpose, from caring for his siblings, to helping out around the house. He had many hats, and wore them all with pride, and yet…
“What do you want to do Tanjirou?” His father asked. And he didn’t have an answer. Everything he’d learned was in service to the flourishing of his family. He’d learned to bake in order to help his mother run the bakery. He did for Rokuta what the child couldn’t do for himself. He went out of his way to protect Hanako and Nezuko because, well, he thought they needed him. Shigeru as well, proved his own competence and confidence without any input from Tanjirou. Even learning to wield a sword was all in service of understanding Takeo, who apparently didn’t need to be understood at all.
He wasn’t needed anymore. He was loved and treasured, but not needed.
And that hurt more than it should.
“I...don’t know.”
His father gave him a knowing smile, and pats his head. “Well, there’s plenty of things to try. Take up a hobby, your mother loved to sew. Or if you want, you can take my old shamisen. Give it a try, you might like it.” He motions its place in the corner.
The instrument in question is old and layered with dust, but it’s still got all it’s strings, and it’s functional, which is all he can hope for. “Thanks, dad. I’m going to go...find something to do. Maybe learn how to play this.” He says, feeling slightly less anxious than he did just moments ago.
His father nods seemingly content in his decision. “And Tanjirou? Everyone feels lost sometimes. You’ll be ok.”
He nods, feeling sure of himself for the first time in months.
+++++++
"ITADAKI TONTARO!" The moment he steps outside he's met with 1 (one): a scream that is not actually his name, and a tackle that almost has him falling back onto the asphalt.
But someone catches the both of them by the collar. "Don't be a idiot! He's recovering right now." Genya shouts as he puts them both down.
Inosuke does not care in the slightest. "I knew my minion Kentaro would survive! I only take on the strongest minions." He smiles triumphantly, but a strong scent of relief lingers in the air.
"No you didn't. You spent the last month in a half trying to punch the ocean!" Genya said, sounding especially exasperated.
Inosuke crosses his arms and glares up at his less physically battered friend. "But it worked. Clearly ." He even lifted Tanjirou's arm as if to prove his point.
Genya looks as though he's actually going to throttle their excitable friend, until Tanjirou laughs. He can't help how it bubbles to the surface at his friends' antics. They argued a lot, but it was clear that they really cared for each other. And they cared about him too. "I'm sorry for worrying you guys!" He says, pulling them both into a hug. It stops their fight dead in its tracks and a gratifying scent wafts from them all.
Inosuke is the first to break out of his revelry, pulling out of the hug as if it burned him. Genya follows suit, rubbing the back of his neck and looking modestly embarrassed. "We just wanted to stop by and visit. Make sure you're ok and stuff. We're going to go train, and I can't promise this dolt won't try to fight you again."
Inosuke squawks indignantly, but Tanjirou simply smiles, "Thanks guys, I guess I'll see you later?" And there they go. And he's left, feeling conflicted and lost, and decides to just wander. To let his legs take him wherever they need to go.
++++++
He’d learned that he’d washed up half drowned on their small town's southernmost beach. A group of sailors found him, bruised and bloody, but breathing. He was alive. So why did he feel the need to go back there?
The sand was fine and soft and warm with the light of the morning sun, and the waves were gentle in their approach, almost as if they met the shore with a kiss. The calm of the sea was so… deceptive in comparison of what it could be.
Tanjirou thought he’d feel anxious being this close to the ocean, but felt only calm as he plucked aimlessly at his father’s old shamisen, eyes fixed somewhere on some arbitrary point on the horizon.