Archive of Our Own

Hushabye, little bunny, of the Kon-Kon hill…

They had been on the road for a century before they stumbled upon the House of the Wisteria Crest. Or at least that’s what Zenitsu whined into his ear every time they scrounged together two seconds to throw together a sucky meal and enough luck to eat it sitting.

For weeks on end, the trio had traveled across the country without a moment’s rest. They would chop some unnoteworthy demon’s head off and relax for a precious fraction and then find themselves with a face full of crow, squawking at them to get a move on to the next location. Inosuke didn’t know how the stupid feather ball was still alive. He had nearly skewered it by waving his sword at it, demanding it shut up at the top of his lungs. He could almost smell the infuriating bird frying over a fire in a squawk-free field, the image made him drool under his mask.

Zenitsu’s survival, too, baffled him.

He had complained the whole time no matter where they went or what they did. When they traveled alongside golden wheat fields and sunny farmland, Zenitsu would claim it was too hot to dare the crime of existing, let alone take out a random demon. On snowy mountains with dark, high-reaching trees, his whole body would shake with such force he gave off heat. The wild boy wanted to sit next to him and warm his hands, but the idea was slashed when all he did was wail through chattering teeth and throw himself at the ends of Tanjiro’s checkered haori, begging please, Tanjiro? It’ll only be for a minute, I promise!

His groveling would only ever stop for him to declare Nezuko his sole remedy and savior, never mind the fact that Tanjiro was kind enough to pass him his water bottle or actually lend his haori to the sniveling blond. If it weren’t for the gentle-hearted redhead holding back his itching fists, neither that damn crow nor Zenitsu would not have made it two steps –or two flaps, in the bird’s case– on the worn dirt paths.

Needless to say, everyone was glad for the miracle that was the House of the Wisteria Crest.

The old lady greeted them with a kind smile that immediately put an end to Zenitsu’s whining, stepped aside to let them in and tittered the whole way down the hall about how the Demon Slayer Corps would hardly have any slayers left if they carried on working them all half to death.

Personally, Inosuke saw no problem with that. After all, only weaklings needed to take breaks. Just look at him! He never took breaks and he was the strongest Demon Slayer ever! He was so amazing, he had three underlings who adored him and heeded his every word!

So, even when warm with a proper meal and fresh sheets, Inosuke would continue well into the evening, boasting to all unfortunate enough to pass by that he was no weakling and therefore had no reason to take breaks as needless as sleep.

“ Fight me! ” He would yell, over and over, so loud that a sleeping Zenitsu had finally gotten fed up with the continued noise. He sat up rimrod straight and threw out a surprisingly calculated hand, landing a swift hit on the back of Inosuke’s neck and knocking him out cold.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When the sound of sniffling caused him to stir, you could hardly blame him when he ignored awareness niggling at the back of his mind and rolled back over. He was knocked unconscious for gods’ sakes! He at least deserved to be knocked out in peace.

Lucky for the ailing soul, Inosuke’s body apparently had the conscience his mind did not and he awoke, confused and bleary, to a moon-flooded room. He sat up slowly, raising his hand to harshly rub at the last dregs of sleep, awareness seeping into his body and settling into his bones. A quick glance at the window revealed that the moon still hung proudly in the sky, soft clouds coming to blanket its light before wisping off into oblivion. The smell of wisteria and dust danced in the air with the lingering words of a dream, sparkling against the old wood in the room he and his companions had been allowed to stay in even in the wake of Inosuke’s hullabaloo.

Speaking of…

Who was the weak idiot that woke him in the middle of the night? He was having the best dream! It must have been Zenitsu , he thought, he’s jealous, he has to be . Nezuko was quickly rising in the ranks with how skillfully she took down that giant mole-rat. Zenisu could never do what she had, wimpy as he is, but how dare he interrupt her promotion ceremony! 

“Some love interest he is,” Inosuke scowled, crossing his arms.

The wild boy whipped around to his left where Nezuko’s box lay and, of course, there Zenitsu was, curled close to its base. But he wasn’t blubbering like he expected him to be. Where pathetic tears should have gathered in the corners of his eyes and snot should have run from his nose like a weak baby, Zenitsu’s chest only rose and fell in peaceful waves, each punctuated with little puffs of air. Sleep had painted an innocent picture out of such an annoying presence, the duel-wielder almost envied his lack of consciousness.

Inosuke cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowing. If Zenitsu wasn’t, then who…?

Abruptly, it felt like someone had taken a bucket of freezing water and poured it over his head. He knew it wasn’t Nezuko, unbothered sighs seeping through the protective wood of her box, and that left Tanjiro. When the boar turned to check on him, his empty, ruffled futon only sealed it.

His absence caused a muffled sense of panic to ripple through him. Tanjiro rarely cried, even when he was stabbed and unable to move, he just gave him a small smile and begged him to help his attacker. There was hardly anything that openly upset the redhead. He was a stone wall. A pillar Inosuke looked up to, though he would never admit it. If something made untouchable Tanjiro cry, and better yet ran away to do so, they all had reason to worry. Looking around revealed that the door was closed and Inosuke could sense three bodies in the room. Tanjiro was still here, but where?

Why are your ears so long?

Hold on. Weren’t those the weird words from the dream? They were! They echoed in the cave during Nezuko’s ceremony! A small frown pulled on his lips. If they were from a dream, Inosuke shouldn’t be hearing them anymore. And yet, there they were, hanging in the night air so quietly he would have thought them imaginary. But no, they were real, their wobbly melody drifting over to a shadowy corner home to a prone, unmoving silhouette.

On instinct, Inosuke’s arm jolted, begging him desperately to grab his swords and slash the figure down. Did whatever it was take Tanjiro and make him cry? His mind swirled, It would pay if it did . Years of training and declaring war on demons and poor, unassuming travels had hardened his reactions to a silver quick. Hesitate for even a second and you were dead. Second guess yourself and you were eaten. Leave behind a single limb and you were turned. But lately he challenged those instincts, his fists would lower and his mind would step back. Instead of rushing in head first at the first urge, Inosuke would find himself thinking about how his opponent moved and when it would be best to strike or let his underlings take the lead.

Maybe living with these weaklings made him soft, or maybe, when he was alone with his thoughts, he could admit that maybe, just maybe, they were making him stronger.

And it was because of those idiots that Inosuke caught his arm and pulled back. First off, they were surrounded by Wisteria and the house’s only inhabitants other than them was a family indebted to the Demon Slayer Corps. No one in the vicinity held them ill will. Moreover, at the impossible chance that it was a threat, quick movement would have alerted the creature that he was awake and armed and he would have lost the advantage surprise gave him. It also would have put Tanjiro in danger. Not that Inosuke doubted Tanjiro’s strength! But if he was crying, he probably wasn’t the best mindset to defend himself. And so Inosuke kept still and watched. For the effort, he was rewarded with something interesting.

The shadow was trembling.

When my m-mo-mother was e-e xpecting me..’”

And singing. For some reason.

Its melody was haunting, if off-key, carrying quietly into the night. They held a strange weight Inosuke could not make sense of, filled with a sorrow he had never known. Rattling breaths and choked back sobs would break through just about every word and the near-silent voice that gave them life stuttered on each stilted letter.

For every second Inosuke lay witness, his eyes would widen and the fog would clear a little, giving him the chance to examine the lonely shadow with the melancholy song.

“‘She a-ate the leaves of a ta-all tree-e..’”

Its body was curled in on itself, hunched shoulders covered by a tightly drawn haori, impossibly small in the moonlight. (Too small to hold Tanjiro hostage, too frail.) A pale hand attempted to meld with paler, streaked cheeks, doing its best to muffle the already hushed melody that slipped past quivering lips.

“‘T-th-that is w-why m-my ears a-re s-s..’” a stifled cry cracked the line in two, a trembling hand pressed harder in an attempt to contain it, the other dropping checkered fabric to join it, “‘s-so-o l-long.’”

Unseeing, ruby eyes became watery kaleidoscopes with unshed tears, fat when they overflowed into silent twin rivers. They stared blankly into the wall across from their perch, unaware of the shocked audience just ten feet away.

And, oh, that solved the mystery, didn’t it?

There was his missing friend, tucked into the most secluded pocket he could find in such a barren room, shaking with the effort it took to keep his weeping contained. 

Something deep in Inosuke’s chest twisted and refused to right itself. It felt wrong, to sit there doing nothing, but Inosuke couldn’t help but feel an uncrossable distance surge between them. He couldn’t reach out, couldn’t make a single sound. They all got caught in his throat and shriveled up, dying there and forming a block. 

Struggling, he could not manage more than a lost “Monjiro…?”

Three syllables, that's all it was, strange and wrong tasting on his tongue. But for all they did he may have well thrown all his caution out the window and at the moon for the effect they had. He’s sure any scene he may have made would have yielded the same result.

Within a fraction of a second, the redhead’s whole body halted. The eerie song did not make it to its second verse, its dying melody lost to the night. The choppy way in which Tanjiro’s chest had pushed out breath after rattling breath failed to repeat and his shivering ceased. Even those ever flowing streams of liquid grief seemed to have frozen over, as if winter itself had come early to put their tireless work to rest. All stilled save for those red-rimmed rubies, which snapped to meet his so fast Inosuke was surprised they didn’t just fly right out of his head.

They stared at each other in a stale standstill for what felt like an eternity, watching each other closely to see who would break first, sage clashing with crimson. A pit was forming in Inosuke’s stomach, one he loathed to put a name to. Then, without warning, a switch flipped. Whatever ailed Tanjiro hit him with a force tenfold. 

He was practically vibrating with how hard he was shaking, full body quakes taking him over to the point where his hands almost lost their grip on his mouth. To compensate, they held on tight enough to turn their knuckles white. A bruise would most definitely form in the morning, Inosuke held back a wince.

And, if that wasn’t already horrifying enough (that pit in Inosuke’s stomach was becoming so uncomfortable he had to actively fight the need to squirm), he had the great pleasure of watching it all fade away as quickly as it came. Two minutes of shocked, soundless gaping was all it took. In the blink of an eye, Tanjiro was smiling apologetically at him. The only evidence that he was ever distraught in the first place were the tear tracks and red marks staining his cheeks, a slight tremor to his unfurled body. The speed spoke of practice.

Inosuke hated what that implied.

“Oh, hey Inosuke. I didn’t wake you did I?” 

Had Inosuke not woken up so early in the night and thrown into the situation like a hacky sack in a tornado and therefore in his right mind, he might have demanded a fight in lieu of an answer, his arrogance would have been answer enough. Had he had time to process a goddamn thing that had just happened, he might have called Tanjiro weak or pathetic –a hollow lie– pounding him with half-hearted fists in an attempt to cheer them both up. Had anything been different, the smile Tanjiro gave him, soft and apologetic, would have ticked him off so much everything he just witnessed would fly out the window with shallow anger that wouldn’t have fixed anything. Not really. But here, in the dead of night, his response of “you did, actually,” fizzled out on his tongue and he shook his head, utterly lost.

“That’s good. Try to get some more rest, yeah?”

He flashed him yet another tiny, yet sincere smile. Inosuke was sure it was supposed to be placating, reassuring, even, but all it did was send a stabbing pain through his chest. He kept shaking his head.

He could tell Tanjiro was doing his best to keep him from worrying, but nothing could erase that previous image of him tucked into the corner, eyes shattered, then frenzied when they met his own, shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. In fact, the ease in which he calmed himself in the wake of realizing Inosuke was watching only frightened him more. He didn’t like being afraid, he much preferred heated anger, and lucky for him he began to feel it bubble deep with the pit of dread his stomach had become home to.

How many times has Tanjiro done this exact same thing? How many times has Tanjiro broken down in isolation, yet right where they could see, only to wipe it away with a smile when he turned to face them?

With that thought Inosuke found whatever spell that bound him to his futon lifted, his body moving towards the water-breather unbidden. Half-crawling, half-shuffling, Inosuke slowly but surely crossed the seemingly impossible distance Tanjiro protected himself with, not stopping when the redhead shrank away, lifting his arms higher and higher with each inch conquered to hide his face.

“I-Inosuke?” He stuttered out behind checkered sleeves, embarrassment painting him a faint rosy color, it would have been cute ( cute?! ) had tears not clung to his lashes, “w-what are you doing? Go back to sleep, p-please!”

Undeterred by the whispered plea, Inosuke continued his slow advance and plopped next to his friend. He looked him in the eye –or tried to at least, it was hard when Tanjiro’s gaze flitted anywhere but in his direction– and carefully lifted his hands like he was dealing with a caged animal. The movement caught the redhead’s attention, following the action as if it were a lifeline as they made their way to the checkered wall hiding his friend. Gingerly, Inosuke pulled his arm away from his face and held it close.

“You’re still shaking.”

Tanjiro blinked up at him for the second time that night, mouth formed in a little “o”.

“Y-you saw that, didn’t you? I-I’m sorry you had to watch that Inosuke but I promise I’m f-..f-fi..f-fiiine,” poor Tanjiro, too honest for his own good, “It was nothing! So please–”

That bubble of anger burned.

He wanted to yell don’t lie to me! at the top of his lungs. He wanted to demand answer after answer, to know what was wrong and why, why , Tanjiro refused to let any of them help. Refused to let any of them know he needed help in the first place.

“--Just go back to sleep, I’m not even crying anymore so I’m ok- o-...ok-k-kaay–”

Why was it that whenever he or Zenitsu needed help, Tanjiro was the first to know and the first to help in a way that spoke of years of comforting others, but if anyone was fortunate enough to know Tanjiro needed help, no one knew how? He would always settle for shallow, fumbling words. He would smile and thank them, sincere as always when it did fuck all to ease the pain, and it drove Inosuke mad. How come Tanjiro was allowed to deny himself what he needed, but no one else was? With each thought Inosuke grew tense, his limbs going taut and brows drawing tight. How easy it would be to swing at the redhead right about now, the idea did little to soothe him.

“...Inosuke?”

At his name, the duel-wielder realized he had been staring into the redhead’s eyes the entire time, silently seething while Tanjiro defended himself with his life. He could feel his hand tighten around his trembling wrist when he saw the fear in crimson glass; It was all he could do to repress the urge to scream, boiling it down to a low rumble.

“You’re a horrible liar, you know that?”

“W-wha..huh?”

And how dare Tanjiro look at him with those innocent eyes, looking at him like a kicked puppy like he didn’t know exactly what Inosuke was talking about.

“It was nothing? You wanna call… whatever that was, nothing ?”

“Inosuke please–”

“No!” He fought to keep his voice near a whisper, “I’ve never felt more…more…helpless!

“All I could do was sit there and watch and it hurt to see you like that! Like some demon could come over and flick you and you would just shatter! I’ve never seen you like that before and I didn’t know what to do! My stomach grew heavy and my chest hurt and I couldn’t speak or move and the whole time you were saying those weird things like you were trying to calm yourself and it wasn’t working. You only did so because I was awake!”

At some point his free hand had slipped into the air, fumbling alongside his emotions while he searched for the words to express just how the show affected him. The other continued to hold tight to Tanjiro’s arm like he would scurry away if he let go. The boy simply watched him, intent though a little dumbfounded and dazed.

“ Why are you hiding from us? From me ? We’re a team , don’t you always tell us to talk to each other when we need it?”

“I-...yes, I do..”

Inosuke nodded, “You do! But suddenly it doesn’t count anymore when it’s you, does it?”

Tanjiro dipped his head, ashamed. It was strange, being the one to chastise the water-breather rather than the other way around. Responsibility was not a welcome weight on his shoulders. It was heavy and weighed like the pit in his stomach, but if this was the burden Tanjiro carried day in and day out, Inosuke was willing to help lessen the load for him, if just for a night.

With a sigh, Inosuke softened and brought a gentle hand under Tanjiro’s chin, silently urging him to raise his head and look him in the eye. His poor chest really couldn’t take anymore, and that guilt ridden look wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“Tanjiro…” He ignored the sharp gasp that elicited, “I want to help. Let me help, please .”

His eyes grew shiny and wide, scarlet waves swimming with tears. Inosuke felt his heart crack at the sight.

The boy nodded and he couldn’t help but feel relieved. The water-breather was finally going to let him in! But in that triumph, he could still see his jaw work and his lips quiver. The redhead kept opening and closing his mouth, trying to produce sound with each round and failing. He looked like he was trying so hard to do what Inosuke asked of him, only to grow more and more desperate and frustrated when he failed to do so. Tanjiro looked up at him then, the first few tears slipping down and out of sight.

He appeared as if he was adrift at sea, unable to catch the tide back to shore. The face threw him back to his first few days in the city. He had hated it. The lights were too bright and the streets were too crowded, and by the gods was it way too loud. He remembered being so overwhelmed, all he could do was cling to Tanjiro’s haori and pray he didn’t get swept away. In the middle of all the chaos, Tanjiro had remained at his side (which, it was sort of hard not to when Inosuke just about frayed the tip of his haori to tattered ends gripping it so hard.) and whispered kind reassurances until he could pull him aside into a secluded corner and help him calm down. When Inosuke couldn’t put his feelings into words, Tanjiro simply held him close, smiled that caring smile, and told him that he didn’t mind. That he could take as much time he needed and he would be there patiently waiting for him. Never once did Inosuke feel rushed or that he was wasting Tanjiro’s time. All he could feel was that warm, fuzzy feeling the redhead always made him feel. Even now, the memory warmed his heart.

“Hey…hey,” he called softly, shifting his hand so that it cupped Tanjiro’s cheek, he is thumb brushing away his tears with a gentleness he didn’t know he possessed. The boy met his gaze, cheeks growing warm under his touch, “It’s okay, I know it’s scary, take as long as you need.”

Tanjiro giggled under his palm, recognizing his own words from what felt like so long ago, and Inosuke felt that fuzzy feeling grow in his chest. It was amazing to hear that adorable ( ADORABLE–? ) laugh again.

And so they sat there. Tanjiro rested his head on Inosuke’s shoulder, fiddling with the corner of his haori while trying to collect the whirring mess of his mind into a coherent explanation for his out-of-place outburst. Eventually, Inosuke grew restless and moved a hand into burgundy hair (Tanjiro squeaked when he did so, Inosuke thought only bunnies squeaked…maybe Tanjiro was a bunny) and started playing with it while he waited. It was so soft under his fingers and calming to run through, and Tanjiro’s breathing was slowly getting steadier, sure. The night air held a fragile peacefulness and he could almost convince himself that everything was right with the world. He soon started to drift off, content.

Then the boy sighed, causing the one next to him to startle, the moment broken.

“I just… I don’t know where to begin.”

…Okay. Inosuke could work with that. Or at least he thought so.

He mulled ideas over, eyes searching the ceiling like it held the answer he needed. He tried his best to come up with the best way to prompt his friend when he remembered, “What were those weird words? The ones you were saying earlier?”

Tanjiro looked up at him, confused, when it dawned on him, “Oh! You mean the song?”

“Yea the sahm!”

“The song ,” the redhead corrected, giggling softly before the weak light in his eyes dimmed once more. He looked down, “I don’t blame you for not knowing, I suck at singing. It, uh, it’s a lullaby my mom used to sing to Nezuko. When we were little.”

Inosuke cocked his head to the side, the word foreign, “A lullaby?”

He felt the redhead dip against his shoulder, causing his heart to flutter. Traitor.

“A lullaby is a song a parent sings to their child. It's meant to soothe them so they go to sleep easier. They’re comforting.”

His brow furrowed, “You were singing a lullaby… to yourself?”

He looked down to see Tanjiro nod and bring his knees up to his chin, curling up into a tiny ball. Inosuke didn’t know whether to find it cute (AGAIN? WHAT WAS GOING ON??) or devastating. Praying to the gods above that it would help, the duel-wielder brought a cautious hand on the water-breather’s shoulder and squeezed like he did whenever he tried to encourage his team and was rewarded with a weak smile, it made his chest ache all over again.

“I had a nightmare. I mean, I usually do,” Inosuke frowned, then briefly wondered if his face would get stuck that way with how much he was doing it, “So it’s silly, really, I should be used to it but…this one was different.”

“My family, they…they were slaughtered,” –Inosuke’s near choked, they definitely skipped a few chapters there– “the night after I stayed too long in the village. I didn’t know demons existed yet so I had to stay with my neighbor, his family had been killed, and it must have been lonely in an empty house where children should be playing and his wife should be talking to him, so I planned to bring my siblings over the next day. Try to cheer him up, you know? And–” he cut himself short.

“Inosuke, are you sure you want to hear about this? It really doesn’t matter anymore and I’m sorry for wasting–”

“Nope, no getting out of it and no apologies ,” Inosuke huffed out, knocking shoulders with the insufferable boy beside him for emphasis, “I told you already, I want you to lean on me. Afterall, what kind of boss would I be if I couldn’t be there for my underlings?”

He puffed out his chest, proud, jabbed a thumb at himself and cackled at his own greatness. Yes, an amazing leader he was, sitting here with his #1 and helping him get stronger!

His pride swelled when he heard Tanjiro chuckle next to him. He could hear the smile in his voice when he told him, “whatever you say, Inosuke,”.

“Yes, whatever I say!” He cheered, “I’m the boss!”

“And the boss demands that you tell him about your nightmare!” He pointed a sharp finger at Tanjiro, catching him off-guard and chasing the small grin off his face.

After a few more seconds in silence, Tanjiro continued, face pained.

“...I tried , I swear I did! I searched them all for a pulse, a trace of warmth, anything to prove to that they were still alive, that I still had a chance, but they were all cold, cold, cold . I could only feel warmth from Nezuko . I could only race Nezuko to a doctor. Only she woke up and attacked me before we could even get halfway.”

“Tanjiro–” 

“But, in my nightmare, they weren’t dead when I returned. I could hear Hanako and Shigeru bickering over breakfast, Rokuta laughing at them. When I got closer I could hear Mom humming in the kitchen and Nezuko was at the door. Instead of bleeding out protecting Rokuta’s dead body –” the word stuttered and he gulped, pushing on before Inosuke could get a word in, “S-she was beaming at me and Takeo was waving at me with this huge grin on his face.”

And that sounded wonderful, didn’t it? Something like that should have been a bittersweet refuge for someone who faced such a loss like Tanjiro did, not a terrible nightmare. So why , Inosuke thought, a mounting dread clawing at him, did Tanjiro look so tortured?

“They ran up to me and they said, ‘Look! Look big brother! Your friends came for breakfast!’’” he choked out a watery chuckle at his horrible impression of his younger siblings. Inosuke wanted to laugh too, the high pitch didn’t suit Tanjiro at all, but for some reason he just felt like crying.

 “They dragged me inside and you guys were sitting at the table stuffing your faces with mom’s tofu miso… I miss her tofu miso.”

“I bet it was the best tufo meso in the world,” Inosuke whispered to him, though he didn’t know what it was, “even the great Inosuke can’t top it!”

Tanjiro gave him a grateful glance, not bothering to correct his speech, “The highest honor, thank you.” 

And it was sincere, Inosuke failed to fight off a proud grin. Tanjiro tried to send him a wobbly smile in turn, but it didn’t look quite right.

“I was so happy seeing you guys with my family. You started showing off to Rokuta, y’know? He was so impressed with your muscles and you were so good with him,” something so inexplicably sad flashed across when he said that, his expression falling, yet he brushed it off, looping his arms around his knee. Whatever had it had been was dashed from his features, a weary smirk replacing it when he said, “And Zenitsu was trying to gain mom’s favor.”

“Of course,” the wild boy scoffed, rolling his eyes. He earned a short snort.

“I think I stood there for five minutes, shell-shocked though I didn’t know why, until you noticed me and yelled at me to come over to show the kids how big your muscles were compared to mine. It felt so right , like it was always meant to be like that. You guys on the mountain in our home and playing around with my siblings, family. And maybe in another life it can be, but even the dream knew it wasn’t for this one. I got one foot through the door and suddenly mom was screaming .”

In front of him, Tanjiro had begun to tremble again, barely noticeable if it weren’t for their shared contact. Something told the duel-wielder that if he did anything now, Tanjiro would clam up, so he contented himself to simply watch and listen.

“It was so loud, Inosuke. This big slash mark just appeared! It appeared and it sounded painful but I could do anything! I tried, but I couldn’t move. It was like my feet were glued to the floor or- or like there was a barrier keeping me in place. I was just… stuck there, doing absolutely nothing. And then another slash appeared on Takeo and Hanako and she begged me – begged me, Inosuke– to help them instead. They were right there, right there, and Zenitsu went to help mom but then Rokuta shrieked and he had been slashed too. Twice .” the first sob had broken through then, “Takeo started running towards me, he was petrified. He pulled me along but we were moving through sludge; we didn’t get anywhere when he was slashed in front of me ,” unsteady hand found autumn leaves and pulled , “and you– y-you caught Nezuko but her back was already cut o-open and she was snarling at you. I…I-I  couldn’t stop her this time. S-she shoved you off a-and a-at- attacked you but y-you didn’t f-fight b-back. You just l-left her b-bite your neck, hard . I watched you die .”

(...nice to know Inosuke’s death would devastate Tanjiro as much as his family’s had..he felt oddly flattered that he cared about him that much.)

His voice wavered through the whole thing, slowly getting more frantic with each sentence he forced out through stuttering breaths, but Inosuke definitely preferred in to the jarring steadiness when he whispered, “In all my dreams, Nezuko either dies with the rest of our family or she’s killed by another Slayer. But I’ve never had to kill her myself.”

That's it, Inosuke thought, sweeping Tanjiro up into a hug and squeezing him tight against his chest. Silence consumed them for all of 1…2…3 seconds, the redhead stunned by the movement.

And then the dam breaks.

Whatever Inosuke had thought of the sight he was greeted with when he had first woken up, this was worse. Tanjiro’s entire body crumpled into his hold, breath hitching before wailing sobs rose from his curled heap of despair. It seemed the water-breather no longer had the strength to downplay his suffering, letting the entirety of his weight slump onto the boar as he clutched on for dear life. He did nothing to dampen his howling cries, the sound pierced Inosuke’s soul.

Soon the boy had begun to spiral, mouth loose and flowing freely while he rambled on and on. He would tell Inosuke little details he couldn’t discern were from the dream or his actual past, things like how Rokuta was holding his blanket, Inosuke. The one Nezuko stitched stars on. He only held it when he was scared. Or, the redhead would stumble through scathing words aimed at only himself, saying how useless, how worthless he was for failing to save them, that he didn’t deserve Inosuke’s kindness. Didn’t deserve anyone’s. It landed as a swift punch to Inosuke’s gut to hear Tanjiro beat himself up like that, as if he didn’t know that they were the ones the didn’t deserve Tanjiro . Knowing him he probably didn’t, the idea would never even cross his mind.

Tanjiro would then tell him it was due to that that sometimes he would question his reality. When Inosuke lended his mask to Nezuko and made her audibly giggle behind her muzzle, or he and Zenitsu would squabble, or a stranger thanked him for avenging a lost loved one, Tanjiro would doubt the world around him. He would spiral until decided he must be in Enmu’s trap still and waited till they were sleeping to bring his sword up to rest on his shoulder, just to check. It was then that Inosuke saw the faint scars that glimmered in the moonlight, covering the entire right side of the redhead's neck. Inosuke swore he could feel the room tilt , a sick feeling crawling up his throat.

Feeling more lost than he ever did, it was all Inosuke could do to tighten his hold, afraid that if he didn’t hold Tanjiro together himself, the boy would actually shatter this time.

The wild boy did not know much in terms of comfort. He didn’t know the right words to say, the right faces to make, how to hold someone and make them feel like nothing could touch them anymore, not like Tanjiro did. Didn’t know how to soothe the hurt or guide them in such a gentle way that they didn’t feel like an idiot for not understanding in the first place.

That’s not to say Inosuke wasn’t better than before. Certainly not. Before he may not have recognized their pain at all, would have flaunted their fear in their face and plowed over it with a blatant demand to fight him for daring to unknowingly step foot in his territory.

It was Tanjiro who gave him sad puppy-dog eyes when he said he didn’t know what a hug was… and then promptly chased him around declaring he would teach him. Inosuke had demanded he fight him then too. It was Tanjiro who let him grip his haori without calling attention to it, letting him know that he was safe so long as he stayed near his calming presence in busy streets. It was Tanjiro who took the time to earn his trust, all patient and kind smiles in the face of their tantrums, sincere in his explanations, politely asking him to lower his walls one by one rather than breaking through. It was Tanjiro who was the warm, rising sun everyone clung to, the balm to frost-bitten blizzards, their inspiration and their refuge. It was Tanjiro who taught him how to be better, to others and himself, without saying a single word.

And it was Tanjiro, finally sharing the burden he shouldered all on his own with not one complaint, breaking down in his hold. Finally trusting Inosuke like he trusted Tanjiro.

But Tanjiro was not the only one Inosuke trusted. Was not the only one to comfort him in his vulnerable moments and teach him the ways of the world. So, as he sat there with the boy swaddled in his arms, he couldn’t help but think of his Mother Boar.

She had raised him as best she could, cared for him though she found the baby odd looking and he was not her own. She had loved him regardless of their differences and did her best to fill the role Inosuke's biological mother no longer could. But when Inosuke cried late into the night, searching for an embrace he would never feel again, she curled around his tiny body, huddling close to make up for the loss, and nuzzled his head so that the ache faded away.

For so long, all Inosuke had after her passing was the head he wore daily. But here, listening to Tanjiro –selfless, loving Tanjiro– hiccuping and sputtering into his chest with half-choked sobs that reminded him so heartbreakingly of a distraught baby boar, it appeared his Mother Boar had left him one more parting gift.

Fighting back tears of his own, Inosuke shifted his head, letting auburn waves tickle his cheek, and nuzzled Tanjiro’s head as his Mother Boar did him, rumbling just like she had on nights the touch alone didn’t satisfy him. Tanjiro let out a whimper that drove a blade straight through Inosuke’s heart and burrowed further into his hold, but his cries quieted, if only by a bit, and that was enough for him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time Tanjiro’s cries had tampered off into embarrassed sniffles, the moon had lost its favor for them. Its light was now solely for the surprisingly still asleep blond –he really must have been exhausted if all the noise didn’t reach those bat-like ears– who had somehow managed to sprawl out over top of Nezuko’s box. Inosuke would have laughed at how stupid Zenitsu looked if his attention wasn’t entirely on the now rosy-cheeked boy in his arms.

During his whole meltdown, Inosuke had refused to let go or move his head from his hair. Tanjiro at least seemed content enough, cuddling closer instead of struggling to escape. At some point he had even felt the impulse to press his lips to his sweat-covered forehead and rub his back. Weirded out by the urge, the wild boy had pushed it as far out of his mind as he could, but it still lurked at the corners no matter how hard he tried.

The night was quiet once more, the only sounds to penetrate the air were the last of Tanjiro’s whimpers and the crickets chirping away. The clouds continued their lazy travels and wisteria enveloped them in a tranquil promise. Finally, everything calmed and the world was almost right again, or, as right as it could be when demons were out there killing others, splitting up families and making fifteen-year-olds give up their childhoods to get rid of their existence. But the point still stood.

…Until Tanjiro squirmed against him, trying to fight his way out of the embrace.

“Woah, what–,” Inosuke threw him a bewildered glance, “Tontaro? What are you doing?”

Tanjiro refused to meet his eyes, seemingly shy, “Y-you don’t want me to get off of you?”

“I would have shoved you off if I did,” he responded, incredulous. Inosuke hated the hesitance in the redhead’s voice, as if he had reason to be ashamed.

“B-but…But I just threw that all at you!” he cried, holding his arms out in attempt to put space between them, “And I whined like some pathetic–”

Inosuke snapped up, snatching Tanjiro’s wrist yet again, “How many times do I have to tell you before it gets through your thick-ass skull?!” he barked, his sudden fury demanding Tanjiro face him. The boy flinched at the abrupt harshness, Inosuke told himself it didn’t matter. This was all one big festering wound he had managed to extract the pus and poison from, Inosuke would be damned if he let Tanjiro bleed out now because he shied away from the sting of medicine and bandaging, “I asked. I came over and hounded you when I could have just ignored you haunting the damn corner and gone back to sleep, and I’m glad I did! Because, for some reason, you got it in your head that you don't deserve happiness ?”

Tanjiro simply allowed his gaze to slip away again, sheepish.

“No, look at me!” Inosuke commanded, and Tanjiro obeyed. Good.

The wild boy leaned in and fixed him with a scrutinizing stare, the willow imploring the cardinal, “You don’t think you deserve happiness?”

Tanjiro nodded.

“Why?” Inosuke bit out.

The water-breather looked at him as if Inosuke had asked him the color of the sky.

“What do you mean why? I let my family die! I let Nezuko get turned into a demon! I wasn’t there for them, and they suffered for it. So I shouldn’t be allowed to be happy, and I certainly don’t get to complain.”

“Stupid, that’s so stupid ,” he groweled. Tanjiro gaped at him, Inosuke just rolled his eyes, “how old were you?”

“What does that have to do with–?”

“How old were you!”

“I was 12! Geez…”

“YOU WERE TWELVE?!” Inosuke screeched.

Tanjiro rushed to cover his mouth and the two looked over, panicked, to see Zenitsu stir from his spot atop Nezuko’s box.They both held their breath as the watched his brows knit together before smoothing out, the lightning-user giving out a single snuffle before snuggling into the wood.

The other two Slayers heaved out relieved sighs before turning to each other.

“ You were twelve? ” came the whisper-shout muffled by Tanjiro’s lingering hand, Inosuke pulled it off of him.

“Yeah, I was…why?” he asked, puzzled.

“And you said you didn’t know demons existed back then right?”

“...yes…Inosuke where are you going with this?”

“Tanjiro… how were you supposed to protect them?”

“I–”

And Inosuke watched Tanjiro raise a finger, mouth open and ready with an answer, only to close it again and lower his hand. He looked down, searching the ground as if it would sprout a mouth and tell him. The duel-wielder could just see Tanjiro smiling at the floor and thanking it before parroting the answer back to him.

Inosuke's eyes softened and he sighed, dropping Tanjiro’s hands and holding his head between his, “You would have died, too, ya know that right?”

Tanjiro didn’t raise his gaze, “I know,” he murmured. The wild boy tilted his head, a quiet huff of a laugh passing his lips before he could catch it.

“You’re better than all of us– don’t try to deny it,” he tacked on when the redhead squeaked in protest, “This world doesn’t owe you anything, you have every right to tell us all to fuck off and just find a cure for your sister on your own. But you aren’t angry like me, you put up with me and Monitsu, and you insist to those strangers that you’ll pay even when they tell you they’ll give you something for free. Hell! You even stay with some of the demons you kill and wish them a better afterlife!”

“Well someone has too,” Tanjiro defended, “a lot of them didn’t have people to care for them while they were human.”

Inosuke shook his head, smiling as he closed the distance between them and rested his forehead on Tanjiro’s, eyes closed, “I- we care about you. Whether you like it or not, okay?”

He felt Tanjiro relax into him, his hands coming up to hold his wrists, “Okay.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hey Inosuke?”

“Hm?”

The moon had completely abandoned them now, but the pair didn’t mind. Tanjiro had settled back against Inosuke, nestled into his torso while he idly played the boar’s hands.

“Can you play with my hair again?”

“Uh…sure.”

He didn’t know why, but Inosuke was slightly taken aback by the request. It wasn’t like Tanjiro to ask for physical affection after all, always the one to give it out unprompted, but it wasn’t just that. Inosuke meant it when he said he wasn’t well versed in comfort, instinct just kicked in when his minion needed him, he guessed. Nevertheless, he raised a hesitant hand and placed it in crimson fringe, doing his best to mimic the calming movement from an hour ago.

“Hey Gonpachiro?”

“Back to mispronouncing my name huh?” he chuckled, “What’s up?”

“Can you sing that…l- lull …Lullaby! Can you sing the lullaby again?”

He blinked, once, twice, then, “Inosuke, I can’t sing.”

“Please?”

“...okay.”

“ Yes !” He cheered, pumping his fist before he realized it was still clutched in Tanjiro’s. His face flushed, embarrassed, lowered their joint hands and continued to celebrate his victory, “I knew you were my #1 underling for a reason!”

Tanjiro laughed then, true and clear, so much so that it sent vibrations through Inosuke’s body. The wild boy found he didn’t have any trouble waiting for the sound to subside, much unlike his tears. Finally, the first few notes bashfully rang into the night air.

“Hushabye, baby bunny of the Kon-Kon Hill. "

Tanjiro wouldn’t face him as he sang, cheeks starting to match his hair more and more with each off-key lyric, but Inosuke didn’t mind. To him, the redhead was the best singer in the world.

"Why are your eyes so red?”

Tanjiro let the words wash over him, each a wave that brought up memories he was ashamed to have let slip past on his journey.

He allowed himself to remember first snows where his little siblings squealed with glee, excited for it to pile up so that they could spend their day carelessly out in a wonderland where the only limit was how long they could hold out in powdery fields of white. Tanjiro could almost feel tiny hands tugging on his haori sleeve and begging him with big, innocently bright eyes to ditch his chores and help them build the best snow fort instead. He had always been too stubborn, resolute to help out where he could until his mother gave him a gentle push towards the door, shooing him out to enjoy the beginnings of winter with his siblings. Thank goodness for that, or he would have missed the look on Nezuko’s face when Shigeru had managed to land a snowball square in her face.

The following snowball fight had lasted all the way to dinner, which was announced by his giggling mother, watching them from the doorway with their father on her side, smiling at them with an adoration he missed.

"‘When my mother was expecting me,'"

He remembered his mother, side by side with his father, a big grin on both of their faces as she told her then five children that there would soon be six. The whole home came to life with a buzzed joy as they celebrated, pestering her with questions and trying to come up with names, wanting to know everything they could about the new baby that had yet to even be born. Nezuko and Hanoko declared that they would make a special meal to congratulate their mother, and though it didn’t come out quite right, everyone was happy to share the burned meal with excited chatter. The two would get better at cooking, skilled enough to do so with a baby Rokuta in one arm as they helped Kei prepare the food.

"'She ate the fruit of a red tree,'"

He remembered the way Hanako and Takeo would bicker over their meals much like Zenitsu and Inosuke do now, caught in silly fights that they would not recall in the next hour. It was probably one of the only things they had in common. 

How many of these memories would he lose before Nezuko could help to keep them alive?

“‘That’s why my eyes are so red.’”

Inosuke snapped up then, pulling him out of the past with sparkling eyes and an excited gasp.

“So are your eyes red because your mom ate fruit from a red tree, Kentaro?”

And Tanjiro only looked up at him, surprised, before his face brightened into the kind smile Inosuke loved.