Work Text:
WEDNESDAY
Tanjirou waits three hours before he texts Inosuke, mostly because he and Giyuu are sidelined on the way back by a real emergency that takes nearly all of that time to resolve, between the lifesaving and the paperwork.
where are we going for the eating contest
He gets a response almost immediately: a time, the name of a hotpot restaurant he has to google that’s close to the arcade he met the other young man at, and a series of pig and sword emoji.
“Oh,” he says, surprised. That was quick. That was easy. He hadn’t actually expected Hashibira Inosuke, Peppa Pig enthusiast, to text back.
Giyuu glances over at him from where he lies on the couch in repose, eyebrow raised in question, phone in his own hands. They’re the only two in the rec room of the station, everyone else doing their chores or napping.
“I have an eating contest tonight,” he explains. “With the crane game guy?”
“No,” Giyuu replies, sounding almost smug. “That’s a date.”
Tanjirou elects to ignore him, because Giyuu didn’t know he was dating his own boyfriend for three entire months. He wouldn’t know a date if it bit him.
Of course it’s not a date. No one would ask Tanjirou on a date. He’s an overworked first responder who’s a little too dedicated to his job. He’s surrounded, constantly, by people both much prettier and much taller than he is. He exudes constant friend zone energy.
It’s an eating contest.
The restaurant is tucked away into a back alley, three blocks away from the arcade. Tanjirou has his duffel with his work clothes with him because he hasn’t had time to swing by the apartment he shares with Genya, and all he truly longs for is the warm embrace of his bed. But he made a commitment, and he keeps his promises, and he is ravenous.
He slips inside and is struck by the quiet atmosphere of the place, wood paneling blocking out most of the noise from the outside. The lighting is gentle, low and soft and yellow, and the aroma hits him like he’s walked right into a wall. It’s mouthwatering, and flavorful, and it makes his stomach rumble with need. The best part is, the restaurant appears to be mostly empty, low tables and cushions deserted save for one in the corner occupied by the very person he’s supposed to meet.
Inosuke spots him immediately and begins to wave his arm wildly, as though there’s any way Tanjirou could miss him. “Gambacho!” he shouts, coming halfway off the floor. “Over here!”
Tanjirou smiles and makes his way across the room, already infected by Inosuke’s bright mood. “Hello,” he greets, slinging his duffel over his head before taking his seat across the table from Inosuke. “I hope you’re ready to eat, because I’m starving.”
Inosuke smiles at him and it’s mostly teeth. Before he can say anything, a waiter comes up to take their order. Inosuke orders for both of them without looking at a menu, which tells Tanjirou plenty.
He’s just thankful he doesn’t have to use his brain power to think.
“So,” he begins conversationally when it’s clear Inosuke isn’t going to talk. “Where’s your friend? Zenitsu?”
“Wha? Why would he be here?!”
“We need a judge? This is an eating contest?”
“Oh. Right.” Inosuke thinks for a moment. “There can be. Rules.”
“Rules?”
“Just one! Whoever eats the most wins!”
Tanjirou grins at him, because neither of them has any idea what they’ve just gotten themselves into.
They chat idly as they wait for the oden to arrive, conversation not scratching the surface of anything too deep. Tanjirou feels more awake than he has all day, sitting across from this wild, adventurous young man, and time passes quickly; before he knows it, one large hotpot a piece is being set on the table before each of them, steaming and making his mouth water.
“Right,” he says, utensils poised over the top of his pot. Inosuke is in the same position, eyeing him competitively. Neither of them have taken a bite. “Are you ready?”
“Do you think I would have challenged you if I wasn’t? Let’s get this over with!”
He laughs, noise bubbling out of him like a fountain, and nods. “Right, right! Ready? Set?” He pauses a moment, for dramatic effect.
“Go!”
They dig in immediately like two starving beasts. Inosuke has no table manners. He’s all slurps and outward elbows, food shoveled into his mouth like a starving man. Tanjirou eats just as quickly, but much more refined, reminding himself that this is a contest that he needs to win.
Win what, he isn’t sure.
And he’s pretty sure he is winning, because he’s on his third to Inosuke’s second pot of oden. Until Inosuke kicks him underneath the table, making Tanjirou jump and nearly upset the entire thing with his knees.
“That’s cheating!” he cries after he swallows the particularly large mouthful.
“Is not!” Inosuke has no such manners; he speaks around the food in his mouth, and Tanjirou is glad he knows the Heimlich maneuver just in case things go south. “Not in the rules!”
They should have established better rules. This is like a cage match , he thinks as he shovels more food into his mouth, intent on winning.
But in the end, there is no decisive winner. It’s why there should have been a judge . Food sits, stagnant, in their last hotpots, both of them too full to touch another bite. Tanjirou has eaten so much he is drowsy, the food sitting at the stop of his stomach, and he can hardly keep his eyes open.
Across the table, Inosuke isn’t faring much better. His blue eyes are half lidded as he stares at Tanjirou, one hand propping his head up, elbow on the table. “I demand a rematch,” he grumbles, pointing lamely in his opponent’s direction.
Tanjirou grins at him, leaning forward on his elbows. “I can manage that. Same time next week?”
“Deal.”
THURSDAY
“Yeah, no, that’s a date,” Nezuko says once he’s explained the whole situation.
“It’s not just two guys, being dudes, eating a lot of food? Together?”
“Were you also sitting six feet apart ‘cause you’re not gay?” She rolls her eyes. “You went on a date, Tanjirou-nee, it’s not the end of the world. You’re allowed. Do you need permission? I’m giving you permission. You’ve had permission.”
“But it wasn’t a date!” he protests, throwing his hands up in the air. “It was an eating contest . That neither of us won .”
“Still! A! Date!” she argues back, punctuating each word by jabbing her phone in his direction. “And you have another one! Next week!”
“But it’s not— I’m not—”
“You’re not what .” Her voice takes on a dangerous tone.
“I’m not interested.” He’s petulant. “I’m too busy to date. Because of my job. It’s very important.”
“Oh, yes. Pulling boys out of crane games they got themselves stuck in is so important .”
“Hey! I saved someone on the way back from that call!”
“But did it end up on the internet? No? Didn’t think so!”
“Nezuko! Not everything is about going viral!”
She narrows her eyes. Changes her tactics. “Giyuu-nee-san finds time to date. Kanroji -chan finds time to date.”
“That’s different,” he insists. “They’re older. More . . . used to the job.”
“And what are you, a dead fish?” She snorts, then coughs, having taken in too much oxygen at once from the cannula tucked into her nose. Tanjirou rises halfway out of his chair, but she waves him off as she gets her breathing back under control. “You deserve to be happy, Tanjirou. And if this weird boy who likes Peppa Pig makes you happy, then he makes you happy. Live a little. Do it for the vine.”
He looks at his sister fondly, tucked up under a pile of blankets in her hospital bed, and sighs. “No one says that anymore, Nezuko.”
“Oh?” She looks displeased. “I can’t say ‘do it for the tik tok’; there’s no good catchphrase for tik tok.”
FRIDAY
Inosuke texts.
Not well, but he does. Typically it’s a string of emoji’s Tanjirou has to decipher like hieroglyphics, or a series of words run together that make little sense until he tilts his head to a certain angle and really thinks about who they’re coming from.
Tanjirou can’t deny that his heart races, just a little, every time his phone buzzes in his pocket. Or that his stomach flips every time he sees Hashibira Inosuke, Pig Emoji, on the cracked screen.
He’s really starting to wish he hadn’t told Nezuko or Giyuu about the eating contest. They had gone on about dating , of all things, and now it’s stuck in his head and making his thoughts all weird. The thing is, he’s never actually been on a date. The accident that killed everyone in his family but Nezuko happened right around the time that whole fantastic, mortifying experience should have started happening for him, and by the time he recovered enough mentally from that , Nezuko got sick and he started working. Simply no time for silly things like dating . None at all, even if he wanted to. Which he definitely does not. At all.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and he fishes it out without thinking about it, new text from Inosuke lighting up the screen. They’ve been at it all morning, trading texts back and forth at irregular intervals, minutes lapsing between sending and receiving.
He’s learned several things, somehow, about the other man; they didn’t talk much the other night. They simply ate. Now, however, he’s actually getting to know him beyond the fact that he has a friend named Zenitsu and can contort himself into crane games. Inosuke claims he was raised by boars, that he does judo professionally, and that he does not like Children’s Musical Superstar Peppa Pig. Tanjirou can’t believe they’re playing two truths and a lie this early in the morning.
“Someone’s got a crush!” Kanroji sings as she comes flouncing up the stairs, spotting his phone in his hand again.
“It’s crane game boy,” Giyuu provides from his ever-present perch on the couch as Tanjirou sputters and tries not to choke on his spit.
“Oh, good choice! He’s pretty.”
“You weren’t even there!”
“I’ve seen the video at least seven times,” she explains, replaiting her right braid. “He exudes cute energy. And those eyes! So intense!”
Tanjirou hadn’t found them intense at all. He had found them quite pretty, actually, pools of sapphire surrounded by thick black lashes. But there was a magnetism to them that he couldn’t deny, a quality in them he couldn’t quite bring himself to look away from. They were, simply put, mesmerising.
The alarm goes off before he can come up with a decent retort, sending he and Giyuu both rocketing to their feet and all three of them racing for the door, conversation forgotten, phone tucked safely in his pocket over his heart.
SATURDAY
His day off finds him waking up at one in the afternoon, groggy and alone in an empty apartment. It takes him nearly a half an hour to find the strength to haul himself out of his bed, sleep crusted eyes blurry and half open.
In the kitchen, Genya has left the tea kettle on. The tea inside is old but warm, and he pours himself a helping before dumping out the rest of the pot and starting another, knowing he’s going to need more than one helping to get him awake for the rest of the day.
Then he retrieves his phone from where it charges in his room beside his bed, set to do not disturb , and looks at what he’s missed. There are three.
There’s a text from Genya, telling him there’s leftovers in the fridge if he’s hungry. One from Nezuko, asking him not to visit today because she doesn’t feel up to it. And finally, one from Inosuke, asking him what he’s doing today. All of them are hours old.
The first two he responds to quickly with quick texts acknowledging that he got them, thank you, he will see them later. To Nezuko, he wishes her well, and hopes she gets the rest she needs.
It is the third that makes him pause. He and Inosuke have been texting, yes, but not asking about each other’s days. It’s been banter, really, the mindless kind you exchange when you’re getting to know someone, but not this. This seems personal.
He shoots off the response of, I’m free before he can think about what it means.
His mug of old tea is empty and his electric tea kettle is ready by the time his phone dings with an incoming message. He picks it up without thinking too much about the knot of anticipation that sits in his chest, a knot that only grows when he sees that it’s a reply from Inosuke.
bet u i can beat u at arcade games
Tanjirou tilts his head to the side and screenshots the message, then sends it off to Giyuu with an, I told you the eating contest wasn’t a date attached.
But vindication does not undo the knot of anticipation that sits tight in his chest as he replies, you’re on. where? same arcade where i pulled you out of the crane game?
He gets a text back from Giyuu while he’s waiting on a reply from Inosuke that reads, He’s asked you on another date. Get it together, Tanjirou.
He’s mid-way through thinking up a witty repartee to Giyuu when his phone buzzes again with an incoming text from Inosuke; he swaps over to that conversation instead, because it’s bringing him more joy in the moment.
am banned for life, the text says. but more than one arcade in tokyo. most of them am able to enter.
Tanjirou doesn't know why he’s surprised.
The arcade he’s to meet Inosuke at is bright and bustling, a veritable hubbub of activity. He only has to wait a few minutes before the man himself appears, dressed in sweats and sandals and a plain white t-shirt with his blue-black hair scraped back in a ponytail.
Inosuke comes running up to him before skidding to a stop just in front of him, nearly coming out of his shoes. “Am I late, Santaro?”
“No, no,” he soothes. “You’re right on time. I was early.” He grins, somewhat sheepish, but gets a large smile in return that makes him feel like he’s been kicked in the stomach, all of the air vacating his lungs.
“I’ll have to make sure to beat you next time!” Inosuke declares, jabbing a finger in Tanjirou’s direction. “But today, I’m definitely going to win!”
Tanjirou laughs sunnily, loud enough to draw the attention of several children passing by. “Where’s your friend?” He asks. “Aren’t we going to need a judge?”
Inosuke screws up his face for a moment. “We don’t need a judge. That’s what, uh, rules are for.”
“Okay, then,” he agrees readily, remembering the eating contest and the bruise on his shin. “And what are the rules?
Inosuke appears to be flying by the seat of his pants, which brings a smile to Tanjirou’s face. “We play the same games. Whoever gets the higher score wins. Whoever wins the most games gets all of the tickets.”
“Right,” he agrees, readily. “Winner of each round picks the next game?”
“Deal!”
Tanjirou scrubs a hand through his already messy hair, grinning at his companion’s enthusiasm. He can’t help it; it’s contagious.
The arcade is even busier inside than it is outside, and the two of them pick and choose games at random. When Tanjirou wins, he picks whichever ones are open, not caring if he’s good at them or not, simply because he’s there just to have fun. He isn’t sure how Inosuke is picking games, if there’s a rhyme or a reason; all he knows is that he’s dragged from one end of the arcade and back again, and he doesn’t care.
They’re evenly matched, most of the time, vying to beat each other at every game they try. Except for skeeball. Skeeball is a game made by demons, of which Inosuke seems to be one, because he beats Tanjirou at it every time.
By the time Tanjirou’s budget is at its limit, they have an armful of tickets and they’ve lost track of who has won the most. He finds that he doesn’t mind; he just likes being in the other man’s company, enjoys the warm smiles and shit-eating grins tossed his way carelessly, the way Inosuke laughs loudly when he wins and vows to do better every time he loses.
He likes being around Inosuke in general. He isn’t sure what to do with that information.
“Hey.” The object of his thoughts stops in his tracks, eyes laser focused somewhere else in the arcade. “I’ll be right back.”
He takes off, and Tanjirou looks to where he’s headed.
There’s a row of crane games, all of them stocked to bursting, and dread forms in his stomach. This can’t bode well.
Inosuke approaches a crane game. The good news is, at first glance, the chute of the machine looks too small for Inosuke to contort himself up. The bad news is, if he manages to do it, Tanjirou does not have his pack or his screw gun to get him out.
He hopes this arcade knows where the keys are; they’re not in his station’s service area, and he doesn’t think whoever would be called out to get Inosuke out of the machine would be as understanding.
Inosuke steps up to the machine; the blind panic raging in Tanjirou’s mind turns into white noise.
Inosuke leans forward and he—
And he—
He—
Sticks a token into the slot.
All Tanjirou can do is stare, panic ebbing away like a tide, as Inosuke uses the joystick to manipulate the claw inside of the machine. He comes down on the other side of the panic feeling a little silly that he thought, even for a moment, that Inosuke was going to cram himself up into another crane game.
But then he reminds himself that there is a precedent.
It’s only seconds later that Inosuke lets out a whoop of joy, followed by maniacal laughter as he bends down and reaches into the chute, withdrawing his prize. He comes bounding back to Tanjirou immediately, stuffed object clutched to his chest, nearly wiping out a gaggle of school-aged children in the process.
He thrusts his prize out to Tanjirou the second he reaches him, big smile on his face. It’s something Tanjirou has noticed about Inosuke; every emotion writ across his features is always exaggeragerated, micro-expressions drawn large. It’s no wonder, with such a big personality.
He studies the object proffered to him curiously: the crushed beak, the black felt feathers, the beady red eyes. It’s a plush crow, a little worse for the wear from being in the machine and ripped from it’s home by a claw descending from the sky, but it’s cute in it’s own unique way.
“He’s cute,” Tanjirou says after a moment, and he isn’t quite sure if he’s talking about the bird or Inosuke.
“I won him for you.” The crow is shaken, just a little, and his wings flap uselessly in the air.
"But—”
“He’s not part of the contest. You got me the pig, remember? I think of you every time I see the stupid thing.” The other man is so earnest in his speech, it leaves Tanjirou reeling.
But here’s the thing: technically , Tanjirou had stolen Peppa Pig when he had liberated her from the crane game at the other arcade and gifted her to Inosuke. Technically. It wasn’t like he had stuck a token in the machine and paid for his chance to win her, or anything. The morality of the situation had haunted him for hours.
But that’s neither here nor there.
“I--thank you.” Gingerly, he takes the plush from Inosuke in his free hand, then tucks it up under his arm. “But what do we do with the tickets?”
“Which one of us won the most?”
They stare at each other blankly; Tanjirou had kept pretty good track initially, but then he was having too much fun and lost count. He has no idea who won the contest, couldn’t even begin to tell you if he tried.
“I don’t know?” He lifts his hand, overflowing with tickets; there are too many there to be sure of how many they really won, or who won which ones. They should have come up with a better plan. Marked them, somehow, or kept track on one of their phones.
Inosuke glances at the tickets, then at Tanjirou. “A tie?”
He brightens at the thought. “Yes!”
“Then what do we do with the tickets?”
Tanjirou looks over Inokuke’s shoulder at the gaggle of children he had cleaved in two on his way back from the crane game, then down at the tickets in his hand. It’s not like they actually need them.
“I have an idea.” He explains, and though Inosuke isn’t entirely fond of the idea, the other man agrees to it readily enough.
By the time they exit the arcade it is dusk, they are ticketless, one stuffed crow up, and the work week is wearing on Tanjirou. He’s only been awake for a few hours, but already can hear the siren song of his bed.
He and Inosuke part with a renewed promise to meet on Wednesday for their eating contest, and Tanjirou leaves feeling lighter than he has all week.
He realizes on the way home that he never texted Giyuu back.
SUNDAY
Giyuu throws a sucker at him and it hits him in the middle of the forehead, falling dejectedly into his lap.
Tanjirou looks up at the man who helped finish raising him and asks, “What was that for?”
“Your phone has gone off five times in the last minute , Tanjirou, and you’re telling me you’re not dating?”
“I’m not,” he says, and then trots out his well-worn excuses.
Giyuu sits up on the couch, once Tanjirou is done, pulling another sucker out of his pocket. Tanjirou is half-afraid it’s going to be launched at him. Then he puts the sucker back into his pocket and pulls out his phone, poking at the screen.
“I need your help,” he announces once it’s done ringing, on speaker. “Your brother is being monumentally obtuse .”
On the other end of the line, Nezuko titters, laugh grainy. Tanjirou unwraps his sucker and pops it in his mouth, dejected, because he doesn’t like what is happening, but at least he has a consolation prize.
“Oh, is it a day that ends in ‘y’?”
“You’re in an arcade and a beautiful boy wins you a bird out of a crane game instead of taking the easy way out and simply plucking one out of an open machine . And then you insist to your coworker-slash-friend that it wasn’t a date because you’re too busy to date.”
“Tanjirou!” Nezuko wails, clearly knowing she’s on speaker. “We’ve talked about this!”
“Talked about what? Hi, Nezuko-chan!” Kanroji stands in the doorway of the rec room, hair still damp from an earlier shower.
“Tanjirou says he’s too busy to date,” Giyuu and Nezuko say together, like they rehearsed it. Tanjirou frowns at Giyuu and Giyuu’s phone, crunching down on his sucker like a heathen.
Kanroji looks between Giyuu, the phone, and Tanjirou. Then she says, mostly to herself, “I have to take matters into my own hands. It’s for everyone’s sake.” She smacks herself in her cheeks to psych herself up, then places her hands on her hips. “Alright! Giyuu, I think it would be a great time to double check every pack downstairs. You can even stay on the phone while you do it. I’m going to have a chat with Tanjirou.”
Giyuu and his phone vacate the room with suspicious quickness, not pausing for even a moment to commiserate with Tanjirou, whom he leaves to the wolves.
Tanjirou likes Kanroji. She’s soft spoken most of the time, but passionate about what they do and easy to get along with. She’s honest and dedicated and easily flustered everywhere except for when they’re on a call, and Giyuu’s told him more than once that she’ll stick her neck out for just about anyone.
Kanroji takes a seat in the chair next to him, crossing her legs at the ankles and folding her hands neatly in her lap. She’s the smallest person in the station, and it’s never struck him before this moment just how dainty she really is.
Then part of his brain decides to remind him that she out deadlift him, and the image resolves immediately.
“Are you sure you’re adjusting to the job okay, Tanjirou? I know acclimating to the hours can be difficult, and the schedule is hectic and unpredictable at best, but I want to make sure we’re fostering the best environment for you to thrive in. Are you— are you getting enough sleep? Eating enough?”
He smiles at her, bright as the sun; how did he get so lucky to work with such kind people? “I’m fine, Kanroji. This is my dream job, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
“That’s wonderful!” She beams at him. “I just worry sometimes that you’re too focused on your job and not the bigger picture. Don’t get me wrong, Tanjirou; I love that you’re dedicated. But I worry that you might be too dedicated. That you’re not making time for yourself, and what you need.”
His smile turns, ever precipitously, into a frown. “I don’t understand.”
Kanroji frowns back at him. “Might I suggest something? It’s called work-life balance. You balance life and work. You need to have boundaries. This job takes a lot out of you; it takes, and it takes, and it only sometimes gives back. Those are the really good days, aren’t they? But they’re few. So you have to make some for yourself, outside of work. Do you understand where I’m going with this? Are you, uh— how does she put it— picking up what I’m putting down?”
“I have Nezuko,” he insists, mulishly.
“Do you ever think you might be suffocating her?” She holds up a hand to silence his retort immediately. “Yes, she’s your sister. Yes, she’s your only living family. Yes, you’ll do anything for her. But how many times has she told you to go out and live your life, and how many times have you ignored her, Tanjirou? You need to take her advice, for once. You need to listen to her . Acknowledge her. She might be stuck in a hospital right now and talk in memes, but she knows things. You’re not doing her any favors by ignoring her advice.”
Tanjirou tightens his jaw and looks away from his coworker, thoroughly chastened. His hands tighten into fists in the fabric of his work pants. “I just—”
The alarm goes off before he can finish his sentence, and Kanroji shoots him a smile as they both rise to their feet.
“Saved by the bell, huh?” she says, bumping him with her elbow. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself. You just have to carve something out. Take the first step. Make your own happiness. Just think about it.”
MONDAY
It’s rare that he and Genya have hours off that coincide with each other. It’s why they make such good roommates. It’s like living alone with half the rent and someone else’s clothes strewn around the apartment. Not that Tanjirou minds the mess; Genya cleans up after himself eighty percent of the time. He’s a pretty considerate roommate, all other things considered.
But today, they both have time off that coincides with each other; it finds them trundling down to the basement of their apartment building, arms full of laundry basket, their last clean articles of clothing on their bodies.
“Okay,” Genya says, on their way back up to their apartment, baskets full of damp clothes. “That’s it. Who have you been texting this entire time .”
Tanjirou briefly thinks about lying. The thought makes him nearly break out in hives.
He explains about the crane game rescue nearly a week ago, though he doubts Genya hasn’t seen the video. He talks about the eating contest, the arcade, the constant ribbing from his coworkers-who-are-his-friends. Their insistence that he’s been on two different dates without knowing it.
By the time he’s done, Genya is staring at him.
“Listen,” his roommate finally says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I say this as someone whose brother’s boyfriend didn’t realize they were dating for three months. Just talk to him, Tanjirou. Be up front about it. Ask him outright. If they aren’t dates, then it’s no big deal, right?”
He stares at his roommate blankly.
“You.” Genya squints at him. “You don’t want them to be dates, do you? Tanjirou?”
Tanjirou squirms where he stands. He hadn’t actually thought about it, but now that he’s faced with the possibility that they may not be dates rather than the assumption that they are makes him somewhat uncomfortable. The realization is not entirely unwelcome, because while he likes his budding friendship with Inosuke, he’s also come to accept that the idea of something more between them is not entirely unpleasant.
It’s entirely welcome, actually; he just can’t let Nezuko know or she’ll never let him live it down.
“I, uhm,” Tanjirou says intelligently, as his phone buzzes in the waistband of his sweats again.
TUESDAY
He doesn’t want to talk about Tuesday.
The only thing that gets him through the day are random texts from Inosuke, half of which he can’t bring himself to reply to.
The only other good thing about Tuesday is that the next day is Wednesday, which means he gets to see Inosuke again. He doesn’t pause to examine the excitement that wells in him at the idea of seeing the other man, the contentment he gets at the idea of returning to the restaurant to engage in another eating contest.
He’ll think on them later, when it hasn’t been such an awful, no good day.
WEDNESDAY
Wednesday afternoon finds him walking into the same restaurant as last Wednesday, duffel with his work clothes slung over his shoulder again because he still hadn’t found time to run back to his apartment to drop it off.
Inosuke waits for him at the same table they sat at the week before, ink colored hair loose around his collar bones. He’s wearing a sweatshirt that reads, in English, ask me about my mortgage rates .
He is alone again, and the implication sends a thrill up Tanjirou’s spine; but he cannot be sure . He has to take Genya’s advice. He has to take Kanroji’s advice. But most of all, he has to take Nezuko’s advice.
He isn’t sure how he’s going to do any of that, but sitting down across from Inosuke seems like a good place to start.
He sets his duffle down in the empty space between himself and the wall as he greets the other man and inquires after his day. He has a good idea of what Inosuke’s day was like already; they’ve been keeping up a steady stream of texts through the entire week, a flow of messages that seemed to double after their arcade challenge on Saturday.
Finally, after Inosuke has ordered for the both of them again, Tajirou asks, “Is your friend not joining us?”
A judge would be nice.
“Why do you always ask about Monitsu? Are you into him?” Inosuke’s voice is forceful.
The question takes him off guard. A blush rushes into Tanjirou’s cheeks, and he can’t seem to beat it back to whence it came. “No! Nothing like that! It’s just, y’know, normally when there’s a contest , there’s a judge . To ensure fairness.”
Inosuke studies him for a moment. “You take these contests pretty seriously, huh.”
“Well.” Tanjirou wheedles for a moment. “No? They’re enjoyable. But. My friend’s think they’re dates.” Saying it out loud is a little like crossing the street without looking both ways, he thinks, and making it to the other side safely. Blind trust that you’ll be alright, that a car isn’t coming when you jaywalk. He laughs and rubs the back of his head, embarrassed. “Silly, right?”
Inosuke stares at him, unblinking.
He says, “They are. Dates, I mean. Not your friends. Your friends are right.”
Tanjirou’s stomach drops out from his feet.
“I, uh. Oh .” Of all the times for Giyuu to be right . “Oh!” A nervous laugh escapes him, unbidden.
Inosuke looks suddenly unsure of himself at Tanjirou’s laugh, looking everywhere but Tanjirou.
“No, no, Inosuke, listen ,” he rushes to say, hurrying to fix the situation before he can truly know if he’s broken it. “I was hoping they were! There’s just no polite way to ask someone if you’re dating! And I didn’t want to freak you out if they weren’t dates, because I don’t have any other friends outside of my coworkers and my sister and my roommate, and I really like talking to you, and I didn’t want to mess that up.”
“Huh?” He looks puzzled. “Why would asking if we’re dating mess anything up? It’s a question.”
That, Tanjirou decides, is one of the many reasons he likes Inosuke so well. Why he liked him immediately: things were so simple to the other man, open and shut. No shades of gray. There was no debating. No agonizing. Things were or they were not. He was forward and up front.
Tanjirou chews on his lip a moment before smiling. “You’re right.” He nods. “It is just a question. Which makes me wonder why you asked me to a contest instead of a date?”
Inosuke, he learns, is very pretty when he blushes.
THURSDAY
There are butterflies in Tanjirou’s stomach as he leads Inosuke down the hall. It’s a big leap forward, what he’s about to do; too much, too soon, but he’s always been one for big steps. It feels right, doing this. He can’t in good conscience not do it, not when Inosuke has already met Giyuu, however quickly in passing.
He pauses outside of the room for a moment. Her door is open; she sits in her bed, upright and on her own, and he can see even from the hall that the cannula he’s already grown used to is missing today.
Glancing over his shoulder at Inosuke and smiling, he plunges into the room. “Good morning!”
“How did your ‘eating contest’ go?” She makes air quotes around the words ‘eating contest’ with one hand, the other occupied with her phone, too involved with the device to look up from it.
“I lost,” he answers brightly. A little too brightly, because Nezuko looks up sharly.
“ Stranger danger ,” she gasps, dropping her cell into her lap in shock.
“Wha!? Where?” Inosuke demands, looking over his shoulder at the doorway of the room. There’s no one there.
“Tanjirou!” she hisses, recovering and turning on her brother. “You should have told me I was having a visitor! I would have changed into better pajamas!”
Tanjirou smiles at his sister, whom he thinks looks as beautiful as she always does. Her pink and black hair is braided over her shoulder, and her pink eyes glitter with rage, mouth turned down into a petulant frown.
But then she looks at Inosuke, frown softening into a shy smile; she says, “I’m Kamado Nezuko, what possessed you to crawl into a crane game?”
Inosuke shrugs. “I wanted a challenge.”
Nezuko’s eyes slide to her brother. “I think you found one.”
“Who? Tanjirou?” Inosuke shakes out his ink-dark hair. Tanjirou can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “He only lost the last contest because he forfeited! We’re evenly matched, otherwise.”
“Wouldn’t you call that a challenge?”
He’s silent for a moment. “I guess. Yeah.”
She smiles brightly, and Tanjirou can see a spark in her that he hasn’t seen in weeks.
It’s ruined the second she starts to cough, a deep lung-hacking affair that wracks her entire body and makes her look like she’s going to fall apart. Tanjirou takes a step forward out of instinct, as though he can hold her together through it all, as if he can keep her from falling apart where she sits and shakes.
“How long do you have?” Inosuke asks, about as delicately as an iron pan to the head.
“How long do I have to what?”
“To live?”
“He told you I was dying, didn’t he?” She glares for a moment at Tanjirou. “I have a bad case of pneumonia. Pneumonia! I’ll be out in three days, tops! I’m doing better than I was last week, or last month . I’m fine!”
Inosuke tilts his head to the side. “That’s not what Tanjirou said.”
“Tanjirou exaggerates where I’m concerned. He’s honest to a fault everywhere else, but suddenly I’m sick and it’s like I’m dying!” She pushes her hands into her hair, effectively messing up her braid. “Listen, Inosuke. You’ve got the mettle. You gotta spring me from this prison. Tanjirou won’t do it. Nurse Kanae won’t do it. Giyuu won’t do it. Giyuu won’t even sneak me in an American Cheese Burger, the coward.”
“I’ll sneak one in,” he offers immediately. Like it’s nothing. Like he hasn’t known Nezuko for all five minutes.
Tanjirou decides, there and then, that pulling Inosuke out of the crane game might have been the best thing he ever did.