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‘I’m not crying!’ was what Inosuke shouted, exactly as he was pouring tears from his mask. He had bashed his head against Zenitsu’s right after that to make his point, but what Zenitsu had already been thinking in his gut was, ‘he’s not making a sound like he’s lying, he really must not be crying.’
Inosuke’s sound rang with a kiran-kiran sort of purity, a clean sound that was only possible for one without a tint of a lie in them. Zenitsu had sometimes wondered if his country bumpkin cohorts were even capable of lying, as they both had clean sounds, perhaps a sign of their innocence. Urban virgins, he might call them. Being alone out in the mountains made them untainted by the ills of humankind, compounded upon itself in the city.
It was because Inosuke’s sound was so honest that even on this deep mountain mission as he was pouring blood from his arms, chest, and head, Zenitsu almost found it believable that Inosuke was not injured.
“That looks really bad,” Zenitsu panted, looking Inosuke over now that he had dragged him a safer distance, after otherwise having spent the entire battle hiding behind a tree. “Maybe we should just leave the demon and high-tail it out of here?”
“I’m not injured!” Inosuke growled, as his furry mask sprang another leak.
“Can you even run like—ah—Inosuke!”
Zenitsu caught him before he fell flat on the ground. He was right not to listen to Inosuke, Inosuke was an idiot. And now Inosuke could no longer protect him from the demon who would be back on their trail in moments.
Zenitsu's stomach twisted cold. There was no one else to depend on, Inosuke could die out here like this. And it would all be Zenitsu’s fault! The sound of a demon was still close. The thing had long arms and huge hands that could wrap twice around its horny head; that was how it kept reaching Inosuke to leave those deep scratches all over him even as Inosuke dodged and bent out of the way. Had he taken that punch to the head directly he’d probably already been dead on the spot, but Inosuke acted like the hit had never happened and then managed to cut the demons’ legs off. By the sound of it closing in now, those legs had come back.
Trembling from his fingertips to his elbows, Zenitsu's hand hovered above his sword, ready to draw. His foot scraped against the dirt, not with readiness, but with changing directions inches at a time to look around and listen. He had to focus on where the sound was coming from, but it was hard to hear anything above his pounding heart and the ‘ubububuububububububu’ dripping from his lips.
There, directly in front of him!
His eyes darted forward only in time to see it zooming toward him, and he flinched and braced for impact. No, no bracing, he should move fluidly with a punch to avoid injury, Jiichan taught him that, Jiichan spent so many hours teaching him that. No bracing, his enemy was coming toward him, he had to strike—
“What’s this?” the demon gave him a shake by his head, painfully pulling at his scalp and lifting Zenitsu’s heels off the ground while he was too frozen to react. “What’s with this hair color? Yellow?”
The demon had him, Zenitsu had to cut its head off, but the monster’s other hand was placed across both of Zenitsu’s, keeping the Nichirin blade stuffed harmlessly inside the sheath. The squeeze of the demon's hand was something he felt more tightly in his eardrums than he did over his grip. Even when he pushed and struggled, the demon’s hand didn’t budge. It was useless. He was useless and going to die!
“Were you struck by lightning? Is that what did this?”
If he couldn’t draw the sword forward, Second Form. That was what Jiichan would say. Use oneself as an axle, draw the sheath backwards to release the blade. But Zenitsu could never get that draw right!
“I wonder what a heart struck by lightning tastes like? Will it tingle in my mouth?”
Zenitsu’s back hit the ground with a whump and there was a painful bash against the back of his head. His hands were still stuck in place at the useless sword, but the demon let go of the fistful of yellow hair to rip open the Corp uniform jacket and blouse. As the buttons popped off, Zenitsu’s flesh burned with the scrapes from its claws.
Third Form. The Third Form. He could focus his power into flipping his body around, and use that momentum to throw a wave of attacks. But Zenitsu never got that form right either!
“How will it feel still beating against my teeth…?”
Its rank breath clouded hot in his face. Zenitsu prayed to hurry and pass out, any mercy to keep from feeling the claws and teeth burying into his chest to end his life. Hurry and pass out, hurry and pass out, hurry and pass out…
“Breath of the Beast, Sixth Fang—Palisade Bite!!”
Demon blood splattered across Zenitsu’s face, and the head tumbled with a thud against his chest, barely gently enough to keep the horns from stabbing into him. Then came the rest of the body flat against Zenitsu’s legs, its disintegrating form burning up and clouding Zenitsu’s field of vision.
“AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!” he finally screamed, kicking and shoving the rest of it away. “AAHAAAHHHHHAAAHHHHHH!! You got its blood all over me!! Ahhh! It’s gonna sink into my wounds! Ahhh! AAHH---”
“You don’t just sit there and do nothing!” came Inosuke’s voice, at the same time as his foot barreling against Zenitsu’s face. It caught him just below the eye, and Zenitsu hardly knew what hit him before he found himself thrown flat against the ground opposite of Inosuke. “You don’t let it kill you, you draw your sword and fight!”
Inosuke rang with the truth on his side, and Zenitsu knew he was right. One didn’t need supernatural hearing to feel the disgusted disappointment in Inosuke’s voice, and it stabbed at the heart in a way demon claws could never reach.
“Get up,” he turned his naked back and cocked his boar head in a gesture that they should get going. “That might not have been the only one out here.”
“…mmkay…”
“It came from that way. That means… we…”
“…Inosuke?” Zenitsu squeaked, peeking over the bruise forming below his eye. Inosuke teetered as he took to one knee.
“I’m gonna—feel it out---once—once I stop—spinning—”
He collapsed, quiet once more. Blood followed the new flow of gravity, pouring out one furry ear and eye. “Inosuke! Ah—ahhh—,” Zenitsu scrambled to look him over. The last time he’d seen so much blood was at the train crash, coming out of the Flame Hashira’s back. “Ahhh!!”
Before he knew it Zenitsu had torn the mask away, and he felt around Inosuke’s head for where the gash was buried under his thick head of hair. His fingers ran sticky and bright with blood even in the dark. Inosuke was going to need stitches for sure; the best Zenitsu could do right away was basic wound dressing.
After he’d done his best on that, he looked him over to see if any of the scratches were going to bleed too much if left unattended. Though some spots ran deep, most of them were as shallow as the scratches on Zenitsu’s chest, but the number of them went to show how many attacks Inosuke had taken facing the demon head-on.
“The hell you’re not injured,” Zenitsu at last grumbled. Inosuke did not so much as grimace in response, his long lashes were undisturbed and his silken lips were still. His fair skin, unfairly fair for what little care Inosuke took of it, had taken a paler shade. It’d be a wonder if Inosuke woke up again at all that night.
After sticking the jagged swords down the fur at Inosuke’s behind, Zenitsu heaved him up over his shoulders to start the long trek down the mountain. They’d found that demon within an hour of starting their joint mission, and with a frown up at the sky, Zenitsu knew it would still be dark for many hours to come. If only he could spend the precious darkness in a field of flowers with Nezuko instead of only his own thoughts and his “ububububububu” trembling for company while Inosuke was silent. Even Chuntaro was already busy somewhere else collecting more missions for him to do, likely! Zenitsu really could have died this time, though! He almost did! He could have still been alive long enough to watch that demon chomp on his fresh heart!
While it felt like this should disturb him more, it did not. Even he could grow desensitized to it. It already felt like he had seen everything doing this awful job.
As his footsteps rustled through the forest floor with a bassa-bassa and a few rocks went tumbling with a ku-tunk-ku-tunk-ku-tunk, Zenitsu paid no more mind to the dead demon, listening closer into the sound of Inosuke’s breathing. It was Total Concentration Breathing; he had internalized it as well as Shinobu had taught him to. That would be a nice skill to have, to have such an intuition that he could use his techniques without even being conscious of them.
The sound made Zenitsu grateful. It meant Inosuke was probably going to be fine. After all, this was Inosuke. Inosuke might as well practice Breath of the Cockroach since nothing could kill him.
Zenitsu’s body ran cold with chills from the pit of his stomach; he couldn’t afford to dilly-dally there where they were in danger. He picked up his pace and jogged, determined to get out of that forest and down that mountain as fast as they could. After all, he had his own injuries to see to as well, what if that demon’s claws were poison? The sooner they got back to the Butterfly Mansion, the sooner they could get treatment, and see Nezuko, and Tanjiro. Tanjiro’s stomach injury had been pretty deep, he still didn’t have to go on these sucky missions. Not that Zenitsu would have wanted Tanjiro getting mad at him too…
‘You draw your sword and fight!’
It made Zenitsu feel kind of sick to be carrying Inosuke. After all, Inosuke was disgusted with him and probably wanted nothing to do with him anyway. He wouldn't want Zenitsu touching him, Zenitsu decided. There’d be Kakushi around there sooner or later, so better to put Inosuke down and keep him stable and still in one place. He was heavy anyway.
Clack--! Clack--! went the rocks to start a fire, and ffhzzt, ffhvssh went the crackle that grew to flames. The yellow haori Jiichan gave him made a soft rustle as he hugged it to his knees.
‘That’s fine, Zenitsu. You’re fine with that much. It’s a great that you’re able to do one thing.’
Jiichan wasn’t saying pretty words like that to soothe him or pity him, his sound was truthful and clear. He really thought Zenitsu would be able to do something with just one form.
Maybe I could if I’d actually use it, he replied in his mind. I was too scared to do anything. Not drawing my sword is the same as not having one at all. I was just a waste of Jiichan’s time. Inosuke sure doesn’t need someone like me out here if I was just going to do nothing.
‘Mngh—ggrrrghhh—”
“Inosuke, are you awake?”
“Hnnnghhhhhh,” he groaned as he rose by his abdominal muscles alone. His boar snout sank toward his chest, and his hand slipped up under the fur. “What’s on my head?”
“That creepy boar mask, that’s what.”
“No, this thing,” he raised his elbow to reveal his face, next to which he was pulling at the bandage. “It’s tight.”
“Don’t take it off!! You’re injured!”
“I’m not injured!”
“You are so injured!”
The next thing he knew, Zenitsu’s arms were shaking with strain and effort as he squeezed Inosuke’s wrists in place and they growled at each other, but he couldn’t keep Inosuke under control enough to prevent the bandages from coming lose. Zenitsu gasped expecting another gush of blood, but when there was nothing, he looked closer at Inosuke’s scalp. It was hard to tell in the low light, but Inosuke had been injured there, right? Since Inosuke was already wriggling his way out of them, Zenitsu darted his glance around to other scratches he was certain Inosuke had. They were still there and fresh, but closed.
“HUH?” he exclaimed.
“Hmph,” he replied with an indignant snort, as if to say he told Zenitsu so. He rang clear with his truth. Inosuke really and truly believed so hard in that truth that it affected reality, and Zenitsu’s jaw hung slack with wonder.
No, no, that was stupid. Inosuke was stupid, and these wounds were still going to zip back open and get invaded with infection the moment Inosuke did something stupider. They had only stopped bleeding because of his Breath technique. “You’re injured. You need these treated before they get full of puss.”
“You’re full of puss!”
“And you’re an idiot! Go ahead, try and tell Shinobu-san that you’re not injured, see what she says!”
Inosuke gulped and reiterated, “I’m not injured!”
Zenitsu could hear the zap up Inosuke’s spine and the muddled 'gumph-gumph' sound off Inosuke’s words.
“Eh? Are you lying?”
“You can’t make me lie down!”
“No, just now you—” he started to point out that Inosuke didn’t believe his own words. If it was Shinobu saying it, then Inosuke really would believe he had sustained bodily harm. That was cute and all, but all this time, Inosuke would had gotten by with whatever he told himself was true. That was how he could be brave enough to believe he’d always win every battle he got himself into, wasn’t it?
Out there, all alone in the forest with no one to teach him how to lie, Inosuke only learned how to believe in what he told himself.
Zenitsu’s chest hurt again, from the inside. What was that feeling? Admiration, or pity? Now that Zenitsu pictured it, he couldn’t fathom how lonely and quiet all those years must had been. Did Inosuke even know that’s what it was, or would he had crumbled if he faced the reality of his isolation?
“H…Hey! You alright? Is it where the demon got you?”
“Huh?” Zenitsu looked up. “What? No, I’m fine—”
“I won’t put up with an underling acting like that, got it? I can’t always get to you all, you can’t get killed off before I can save you!”
“Who ever said I’m an underling? Quit with that!”
“You’re in no position to talk back to me! You could have died, you know!”
Yes, of course Zenitsu was fully aware he could had died, Inosuke didn’t need to tell him that. By the strain in his voice of that resounding 'kiraaan', though, was that the part that bothered him? It never seemed anyone cared what happened to Zenitsu on this job, so it was kind of nice to have someone else recognize the danger he was always in.
Then the part that upset Inosuke was the thought of losing him…
Inosuke had started to find people who were important enough to be weaknesses, and Zenitsu was counted among them. A blush and smile sprang to Zenitsu's face while his chest warmed; if he could hear his own sound, he’d had been going deaf with what a high pitch he’d be making.
“What’s so funny!?”
“No, nothing! It’s just… didn’t you just admit you’re not strong enough to take care of us all? Then you admit you’re not the all-powerful boss?”
“I never said that!” he shouted back.
“You just said that you can’t always save us.”
“I can take care of each and every damn one of you!” he yelled, the 'gumph-gumph-gumph' getting murkier and murkier, until it plunged into the most droning lie Zenitsu had ever heard: “As if I care anyway!”
Zenitsu snickered, which only made Inosuke more upset. By the tension rising in Inosuke’s muscles, Zenitsu knew they should stop this conversation before his injuries ripped back open. “Sorry. You’re right, you’re powerful. I’ll try harder to be a better underling. I don’t want to get killed out here anyway,” he said, regretting his joking choice of words as they slipped out his lips, for Inosuke was bound to take them as truth. But what problem was that, once in a while? “Here, Boss, how about I carry you back down the mountain?”
“Hmmm. Fine. That’s more like it,” he relented, unaware of how relieved his injured muscles sounded as he climbed on Zenitsu’s offered back.
Zenitsu stood and snuffed out the last of the fire with his foot, and then started off with a smile. “If another demon comes out, you will protect me though, right? …R-Right?”