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Scars are present in everyone’s lives, always a meaning or story behind the tears of skin. Sometimes it’s evidence of abuse, perhaps self harm, a mark left behind from a fight, and even left behind by a lightning strike .
The first time Zenitsu had opened up about his scar was to Tanjirou, who’s eyes wouldn’t stop burning into the skin of his back. It’s pretty obvious once his shirt was buckled off, the repaired burns being a fat different tint than the rest of his pale skin.
There was no obvious change in his friend’s sound, only a twinge of what could be mistaken as admiration. After all, not many people get to experience such an electric experience.
He hadn’t ever been able to see his scars as beautiful, or a trophy, or as a reward for his survival . His fingertips usually brush against the tender flesh, arm stretched behind him so long that it aches, yet he’s able to trace the shape of it from where his neck began and where it ended at his lower back.
Some people had said it resembled a tree, sprouting from his spine with branches of burns stretching as wide as his lungs.
It was the biggest stain on his skin aside from the cuts from missions, the tears of skin from ruthless training, the faded cuts behind his ears, the scars on his thighs and legs from constant use of Thunder Breathing.
Being a member of the Demon Slayer Corporations would never leave a soldier without a couple scars, yet the blonde would prefer if he could wear his uniform without feeling that it should shield away his marked up body.
How the Wind Hashira could proudly bear his scars was something unknown to Zenitsu, or how Tanjirou could welcomingly blurt that his scar was caused by the metal of a piping hot pot, or how Inosuke can run around shirtless.
There’s admiration in him when seeing them embrace that part of themselves, and sometimes he finds himself wanting to roll up his wide haori sleeves. To tug down the collar of his shirt, and to be able to wear yukata without feeling the need to hide his legs.
“It’s kinda pretty.”
That’s something he hadn’t heard before, his skin burning up in embarrassment as he feels Genya’s fingertips touch the scar softly.
“H-Huh?”
He doesn’t remember why Genya wanted to see the scar, probably Tanjirou blabbered his ear off about Zenitsu’s incident. It’s not like it’s a secret of how his hair came to be, or the constant feeling of static coming off his skin, but he didn’t expect for his friends to keep that story in their memories.
“Yeah,” the taller boy hummed as he leaned back on the bed, the blonde’s hands coming up to grip at his side bangs gently. “Does it still y’know, fucking hurt?”
The calloused fingers came back, leaving goosebumps in its track as it dragged down from the back of his neck.
Does it still hurt?
Well, it doesn’t leave physical pain. It’s always there to remind him of what happened that day, sitting in a tree, crying whilst Jii-chan screamed at him to get down .
“No.” He finally answers. “Not real-ALLY!”
Zenitsu turns his head at the person who had pinched his skin lightly, eyes wide and teeth visibly clenched. All he sees is Genya with an entertained smile on his lips, fingers off his skin yet still in that ‘grabby’ position.
“That’s not funny, even if it doesn’t hurt; it’s still sensitive!”
“Boo- fucking -hoo.” The taller boy hums, beginning to stare at the tree-like scar as if in a trance.
The scar on Genya’s face is just as striking as Zenitsu’s own.
It’s darker in color, having probably been years ago since he’s gotten it. Messily carved into his skin, stretching across the bridge of his nose like its own little lightning strike.
“Does t-that,” Zenitsu’s finger points at it, eyes half-lidded as he tries to imprint the shape of it in his mind. “Does that still h-hurt..?”
Genya’s eyes flicker up from the blonde’s scar to his curious yet nervous expression, relaxing when the small finger is directed to the large blemish on his right cheek.
The same question riddles his own mind, simply accompanied by the soft pitch of Zenitsu’s voice.
Does that still hurt?
“Does that really matter?”
The blonde turns to face him, leaning closer unconsciously as his eyes avert towards the ground nervously.
“W-well I answered.” The eyes rise up towards Genya’s once more, this time a small smile gracing his lips. “Wouldn’t it be fair if you answered too ?”
He sighs, a foot kicking forward slightly.
“It’s been fucking years, I’m sure if it hurt I would feel it.”
Genya doesn’t feel pain in his scar, but upon Zenitsu’s longing and interested eyes, he feels his body grow warmer from his gaze.
“D.. do you wanna touch the damn thing?”
There’s a gasp, then a glimmer in the amber tint of his eyes.
“Will you let me?”
“ Why would I bother asking you dumbass?”