Work Text:
"Nezuko?" Tanjiro's weary voice breaks the quiet, so soft that it's almost lost among the cricket-song and other nighttime noises. His large hand cups over her forehead. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
Nezuko hums an affirmative, settled comfortably in his warm embrace. She rests her head back against Tanjiro's uninjured shoulder, her short legs draped over his crossed ones. She reaches up to grasp Tanjiro's hand and pulls it down, holding onto both of his hands as they come to rest around her middle.
The moon sneaks out from behind a bank of clouds and bathes the yard in its brilliant light. From their place on the porch, Nezuko watches the dark shadows and colors playing in the faint breeze that picks up a moment later. The silvers laced with green, tinted blue. The forest beyond the far wall comes to life in a symphony of rustling leafs. A wind chime rings faintly on the corner of the porch. Tanjiro's arms tighten around her, as if to protect her from the slight chill in the air, but Nezuko isn't bothered by things like that anymore.
"You've stayed small like this for a few days now," he says cautiously after a while, "Are you still thinking about Mother…?"
Mother.
A memory wavers across Nezuko's mind, as thin as vapor thrown up from a dusty hearth. She can't quite grasp at it. A low, melodious voice…. An array of warm colors. A hand in hers, a touch that is more reassuring with every step. A kind smile hidden by the setting sun.
Nezuko hums again, uncertain. She bounces her heels off the edge of the porch. She feels Tanjirou's hands with her own, lost in thought; the calluses decorating his palms and his broad fingers, the heavy bandages on his right hand that wrap his index and middle fingers, the firm braces underneath to keep his broken bones in place. Tanjiro sucks in a small breath and tenses, even though her touch is light.
Nezuko looks down then, turning his hands over carefully in her lap.
They're so much bigger than her own.
She traces the lines that run across his palm. Tanjiro's right hand is swollen to the point where he has trouble closing all of his fingers (not just the ones that are broken, which he can't move at all) as he slowly withdraws from Nezuko's touch.
"Sorry," he says softly.
He folds his arms around Nezuko's waist, instead, and sinks forward with a small sigh, resting his face in Nezuko's hair at the crown of her hair. His breathing changes - and if Nezuko wasn't pressing back into his chest, and if he wasn't tucked in so close to her ear, and if she wasn't tuned acutely to the smallest sign of Tanjiro's distress, she may not have even noticed it at all, it's so subtle. It's just a slight shudder as he exhales. A snag as that same breath pulls back in. The way his whole body tenses to try and contain it.
Nezuko makes a small noise of concern.
Tanjiro starts to cry; he curls forward, squeezing Nezuko with everything he has.
If she were human, if she were really a little girl about five or six years old, he might have crushed the air from her lungs, unintentionally. But she isn't. Nezuko only finds comfort in the strength of her brother's arms - and a shared, quiet sorrow in the desperate the way he holds her tightly, as if he's afraid of letting go. She can feel his heartbeat and the warmth that it brings to his body and hers. She can smell his blood, sharp and sapid in the air from where he's disturbed his torn shoulder.
She is enveloped by his familiar scent of ash and pine, and these things bring back the feeling of safety and home.
Nezuko reaches up to put her arms around Tanjiro's neck. She soothes her hands through his hair and pats him in the same comforting way that he often pats her; he laughs softly, though it's still half a sob, turning his head so her small hand cups his cheek.
He murmurs, "Sorry, Nezuko."
Nezuko makes an assertive sound and swats him a bit harder.
Tanjiro laughs breathlessly. "I know, I know. …Sorry."
Nezuko huffs.
Tanjiro's chest shakes with small, suppressed laughter now rather than tears.
One of his hands comes up, the one with the broken fingers, to smooth her hair back down as he sits back. He wipes his face with his sleeve and sniffs quietly. He takes a steadying breath. Nezuko tips her head back to look up at him, arms still up, attention and hands both caught on his earrings and the way they flicker back and forth in the moonlight, the red and white flowers a stark contrast. She taps them with her fingers, watching them spin.
Tanjiro chuckles, smiling down at her.
His eyes are a deep, warm red in the dark, and their color brings that memory back.
"Tanjiro…." Zenitsu whines, shuffling toward them along the porch.
"Oh, Zenitsu -" Tanjiro turns his head aside to look at his friend. The memory slips through Nezuko's fingers again. She drops one of her hands to hold onto Tanjiro's, but keeps the other one up, resting on his shoulder, playing with his earring. She kicks her heels against the porch and hums softly. "What are you doing out of bed?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Zenitsu counters, his tone more scolding now, "Shinobu-san said you need to rest! You could lose the mobility in your whole arm, Tanjiro."
"Sorry," Tanjiro says. Nezuko hums a warning and he cups her forehead again, almost absently. "I couldn't sleep. But you shouldn't be up either!"
"I just overexerted my muscles, I didn't break anything - unlike some people. Besides, how could I possibly sleep when I heard you out here…" Zenitsu trails off. His hands briefly close into fists, his gaze trained on his feet. "We woke up and you weren't in the room," he says instead, "It scared us!"
"Sorry," Tanjiro says again, softly.
Nezuko lets it go this time because she can hear the smile in his voice, because his hand is warm, because she can tell how steady his heartbeat is.
Each timid step Zenitsu takes causes him to wobble slightly, to wince in pain, to utter a small, pathetic whine. He keeps his hands splayed open to either side of himself for balance, keeps moving determinedly in spite of this. He passes behind Tanjiro and eases down beside him, extending his legs over the edge of the porch with visible relief. He leans carefully against Tanjiro's shoulder, aware that it's his injured side.
Inosuke is right behind him; he's stooped almost in half and walking slower than Zenitzu, keeping his arms hugged around his middle. He doesn't even have the energy to hold up the boar head. Once he gets within a foot or so of where Tanjiro is sitting, Inosuke simply gets down on his hands and knees and crawls the rest of the way. He butts his head against the back of Tanjiro's ribs and rubs up against him, then collapses, lying on his side with his shoulders firmly pressed against Tanjiro's back.
A deep sigh bellows out of him.
Tanjiro laughs, reaching back to put a hand on Inosuke's arm.
"Inosuke, you really shouldn't be out of bed!"
He grumbles in response.
Zenitsu leans forward, extending his hand to Nezuko and offering her his index finger, crooked, as if he were coaxing a bird from a branch.
"Are you taking care of our Tanjiro, Nezuko?" he asks in a low, playful voice.
Nezuko hums and nods, grasping his hand firmly.
Zenitsu's smile widens.
"I'm fine," Tanjiro says, turning to Zenitsu but keeping his hand on Inosuke, "Really."
"Are you sure?" Zenitzu asks, eyes darting up to meet Tanjiro's.
Nezuko tips her head back to look up at him, as well.
"I'm sure," Tanjiro says earnestly, his smile just as warm as it was before - maybe warmer, because he is surrounded by the warmth of others now, and Nezuko is grateful. "I didn't mean to worry everyone. I just needed to get some air."
Zenitsu sighs and shakes his head in a disappointed sort of way. He gives Nezuko's hand a little bob, up and down, as he turns back to her with a serious expression and asks, "What are we going to do with him, Nezuko?"
Nezuko hums, giving it some thought.
"You could shut up," Inosuke rasps, "Some of us are tryin' ta sleep…!"
Tanjiro rubs his arm soothingly, smiling and murmuring another apology. Inosuke rumbles something incoherent before subsiding into silence. Zenitsu grins, pinching Nezuko's smaller hand between his finger and thumb. Nezuko hums contentedly, closing her eyes as she settles back against Tanjiro's chest.
They're doing enough.
They're doing everything they can, and it's enough.