Chapter Text
Sanemi had been tossing and turning for two days now. Everything he did, every patrol, every time he trained, all he could think of was that horrible, terrifying, heartbreaking scream that the demon boy had made the moment Sanemi had sliced up his sister’s arm. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was a fierce pink gaze and a mixture of blood on his blade. He saw those strangely warm red demon eyes, looking at him with nothing but confusion and misery, asking him how he could have hurt another human. He saw an endless sea of blue, bluer than the sky, bluer than sorrow, looking back at him with something that bordered pure rage.
Finally, on the third day, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He didn’t have any missions currently, and he was driving himself mad remembering the events that took place at the Hashira meeting. That girl, flipping over his blade like she’d known exactly how he would strike, kicking him hard enough on her way over that he’d tasted blood in his mouth. The way she’d screamed at him, raw and wild, like some kind of crazed beast. Like she was the demon, and her stupid brother was the pacifist human.
He couldn’t get that image of Tomioka crouching next to her out of his mind, pulling the demon boy into his arms when he started crowding Kochou just because the girl had told him too, like he trusted her endlessly. Like he trusted her the way he’d never bothered to trust any of the other Pillars. Like he trusted with his life, or the world, or to stand with him no matter what.
Based on her reactions to anything negative that the others said about Tomioka, Sanemi figured that he probably wasn’t wrong to think that.
“SHINAZUGAWA-SAN!” a far-too-loud voice bellowed.
Sanemi winced and looked up to find the Flame Pillar waving boldly at him from down the road. Sanemi hesitated, before waving back briefly.
It seemed like Rengoku was next to him in a heartbeat, and Sanemi felt himself tense up at the sudden invasion of his personal space, even though he knew Rengoku was, simply put, just like that. He often invaded personal space without meaning to, because he was larger than life, and sometimes his pretty head didn’t notice things like that.
“What brings you this way?” he asked, his voice still too loud despite the distance at which they were now standing.
Sanemi balled his fists and refused to step back, even though he kinda wanted to. He really couldn’t let anyone intimidate him to the point where he’d back down, even if it was only Rengoku, even if he probably hadn’t even noticed that Sanemi didn’t appreciate the volume of his voice or the proximity of his body.
And yet, though Rengoku could so often be oblivious to the smallest things, he wasn’t an idiot by any means, and he could be annoyingly observant when he needed to be.
And apparently, he thought that right now, he needed to be.
~
“Are you off to see Young Kamado?” Kyoujurou asked.
The answer to his question was instantaneous, even though Shinazugawa didn’t exactly say anything. His frame tensed even more than it already was, and his eyes snapped to meet Kyoujurou’s. He didn’t say anything for a moment too long, before snapping, “Why would I do that?”
Kyoujurou could think of a lot of reasons why Shinazugawa might feel inclined to visit Kamado, but he said nothing, simply gazing at his fellow Pillar.
Finally, Shinazugawa unclenched his hands slowly. “Have you heard…is she—is the brat…recovering?”
Kyoujurou didn’t exactly want to be the one to tell him this, since he already looked like he’d been driving himself a little crazy the past few days, but Kyoujurou slowly released a breath he’d been holding in. “I’ve heard that she lost consciousness the day of the Hashira meeting and hasn’t regained it.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Kyoujurou wasn’t sure how Shinazugawa would react; in truth, he didn’t know most of his fellow Pillars as well as he should, but it was just easier this way. For the most part. Except for right now, when a million nameless emotions were sweeping across the Wind Pillar’s face, and Kyoujurou wasn’t sure there was a single thing he could say to make the situation better—
“Serves her right,” Shinazugawa grumbled, shoving past Kyoujurou in the direction of the Butterfly Estate. “Stupid kid.”
Kyoujurou turned, watched him storm down the road without looking back.
He released another held breath and watched Shinazugawa disappear around a corner. He had a mission to attend to, and he really didn’t have much time to spend thinking about strange little Kamado and how she was the first human any of the Pillars had ever injured with their blades…
He turned, and kept walking in the direction of his destination. There were people going missing on train lines, and so any inquiries he had about Kamado and her condition and every other odd thing about her would have to wait.
↢↣
Sanemi stomped into the Butterfly Estate and shoved past the attendants that nervously tried to titter around him. He knew where the infirmary was, since he’d spent a good chunk of his time healing up in there, and he jammed the door open harshly to find that he'd walked in on the strangest scene he’d ever had the displeasure of witnessing.
Kamado was out cold, but that wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary, if what Rengoku had told him was correct. She was swaddled in bandages, and her long ponytail had been untied so that her hair hung loose in every direction. Once again, not the strange part.
No, the strange part was that Tomioka, fricken Tomioka, was sitting at her bedside, braiding a long strand of her hair with the deftest movements of long, graceful fingers. Stranger still, was how the demon boy was sitting on his lap in the form of a kid, tugging on another strand of Kamado’s hair like he was trying to mimic Tomioka. There were two other boys in the room, presumably Kamado’s companions, both of whom were asleep (maybe, it was hard to tell with the boar’s head). The blond one had also been assaulted with Tomioka’s secret braiding skills, and had about a hundred little braids sticking up in every direction.
“What the—”
“Shinazugawa-sama!” a female voice cried out, and he looked over to see one of Kochou’s wards hastily bowing. When she straightened up, Sanemi looked past the fierce blush on her face, and realized that her pigtails had been braided as well.
Tomioka looked up in that stupid, unhurried way he always had, and blinked slowly at Sanemi, his fingers pausing in the braid.
Sanemi wasn’t sure what the actual hell he’d just walked in on, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to find out, but then Tomioka opened his dumb, pretty mouth and said, “Braiding.”
Sanemi stared at him. This man was quite possibly the strangest imbecile Sanemi had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Before Sanemi could even respond, something hardened in Tomioka’s face. His jaw clenched and his brow furrowed, and for a moment, Sanemi was (slightly) stunned by the transformation of Tomioka’s usual doll-like blankness into something that would almost be considered a normal human expression.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, which was probably the most consecutive words Sanemi had heard him speak in one breath.
“I…”
In all honesty, Sanemi wasn’t sure. He just knew that he’d been driving himself to the end of his rope with memories of that crazy girl diving in front of her brother to save him from Sanemi’s idiocracy, and he’d known that the only way to get rid of the horrible guilt in his stomach would be to ask the brat herself why she’d done it. But there she was, unconscious, looking like some weird mythical maiden with her hair spread out and braided in a bunch of tiny braids, and that wasn’t answering any of his questions in the slightest.
“What are you doing here?” he sneered. Which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to say, because obviously Tomioka was here, he was basically in love with those dumb kids, why wouldn't he be here???
Evidently, Tomioka also thought that was a ridiculous thing to ask, because he closed his pretty mouth and tilted his head at Sanemi like he was trying to silently ask why would you let anything that stupid come out of your mouth?
Honestly, Sanemi was wondering the same damn thing.
“Why?” he corrected, gritting his teeth. "Why...just why?"
Suddenly, the demon boy was in front of him, looking up at him through massive eyes. And then he was growing, his limbs stretching, his shoulders broadening, his face losing baby fat and melting into hard, flat planes. He blinked at Sanemi, who realized that his hair had also been braided. Fricken Tomioka.
Sanemi glowered down at the boy, who made a muffled noise in return, before turning his back on Sanemi. (Stupid decision, demon...Oh wait. I can't...I can't kill this one. Not unless I want to face Tomioka's wrath. Actually, that might be kinda interesting NO SANEMI, FOCUS, IDIOT.)
The demon walked calmly back over to his sister and stood there quietly, looking down at her for a moment. Finally, he turned those large red eyes on Sanemi expectantly. Sanemi stared back, not sure what to do. The last time he’d seen this boy, he’d been gazing at him heartbrokenly from across a bloodied engawa. Now he was looking at him like he was an esteemed visitor.
“He wants you to come to him,” a new voice peeped, and Sanemi’s head swung to see that the blond kid had woken up. He looked everywhere but Sanemi, trembling in his bed.
“Hah??” Sanemi demanded.
The boy’s eyes darted over to Sanemi and away again. “Tanjirou,” he replied softly, his voice shaking. “He wants you to go stand next to him.”
“And how would you know that?” Sanemi demanded.
“I—I have really good hearing. I can’t understand him as well as Nezuko does, but sometimes I can—I can almost hear what he's trying to say.”
Sanemi stared at him. “You’re a bunch of freaks,” he finally sneered.
“Yes,” Tomioka agreed solemnly, before squinting at Sanemi again. “Why are you here, Shinazugawa?”
Everything about this place was surreal…overwhelming…
He didn’t know why he’d come anymore. He couldn’t remember anything but Toimoka’s ratty ponytail and the braids that adorned everyone in the room. All he could see was yellow hair and ocean blue, and eyes so warm they were giving him a headache.
Suddenly, the demon boy was standing next to him again, and a rough, warm hand tugged at his own.
He threw himself out of the room so fast that the yellow boy yelped, and the demon made a concerned noise, concerned, gazing at Sanemi with those stupidly kind eyes, like he was trying to ask him if he was okay, and Sanemi…he couldn’t…
He wasn’t proud of it, but he tucked tail and fled. But even as he ran from the Butterfly Estate, he couldn’t move fast enough to outpace the memory of all those braids, of Kamado sleeping peacefully in the center of a candle-lit room, of the kindest eyes he’d ever seen, and a rough palm trying to slide into his own.
↢↣
“Five times? Are you actually telling me that I have to drink this five times, every single day??? ”
“I believe I’ve told you that several times now, Zenitsu.”
“But for three months?? Are you sure??”
“I’m positive. Now stop whining; you’re going to wake up your friends.”
“Yeah, well, if I have to be awake and suffering, then so should they!!”
“Zenitsu, I am losing my patience with you! You are not suffering, you are recovering, and if I hear one more word, you will sleep outside.”
“But Aoiiii-channnnn—”
“I told you not to call me that!”
“This medicine is soooo gross, just try it, you’ll see how gross it is! You can’t expect me to take this stuff five times a day if you want me to eat any of my food! You just can’t!”
“Zenitsu, what did I just say?”
“Ummmm…”
Nezuko slowly drifted back into consciousness, and the first thing she thought was: really, Zenitsu?? Already whining?? I haven’t even been awake for five minutes.
The next thing she realized was that Tanjirou wasn’t next to her anymore.
She reached out slowly, feeling fuzzy from sleep. To her left was Inosuke. His presence was reserved for the first time since she’d met him. It swirled with shame, humiliation, and another peculiar feeling that certainly didn’t belong on Inosuke—the feeling that he couldn’t do anything right. Nezuko cracked an eye open blearily and peered at him. Her vision was still hazy and sleep-crusted, but she could make out his boar head peeking over the covers.
Zenitsu’s anxiety flared next to her, and she turned her head slightly, taking him in as well. His soul, always so filled with turmoil, was spiralling worse than when she’d first met him. He was afraid and upset, and he wasn’t getting the empathy he felt he deserved. The girl next to him had the energy of the most impatient healer Nezuko had ever met—not that she knew many healers, but still.
Slowly, she opened her eyes all the way, and blinked slowly at the scene in front of her.
Zenitsu was wearing a white hospital gown that was long enough to completely cover his hands. He was sobbing and snotting, which seemed to be his default state. That didn’t make it any less embarrassing to witness, though. The girl he’d called ‘Aoi-chan’ was the one with the restless, irritated soul. She stood at his bedside with her hands on her hips, glaring severely down at Zenitsu, which Nezuko prided her for.
Nezuko studied the girl for a moment, taking advantage of the amount of her attention Zenitsu occupied.
She had jet black hair tied in pigtails with blue butterfly clips, and large deep blue eyes. The imprint she left on the air around her was diligent and efficient, with an undertone of something that reminded Nezuko faintly of Zenitsu. It took her a moment to place it, because Zenitsu and this girl seemed about as far from similar as two people could get, but when the girl raised her head and saw that Nezuko was awake, she realized what it was: the undercurrent of each of her actions sang with Zenitsu’s signature anxiety.
“Ah, good, you’re awake,” the girl stated curtly. She marched over to Nezuko’s beside, and though Nezuko could literally read her soul from a distance, she couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the way those blue eyes flashed as she approached.
“How are you feeling?” the girl asked.
Nezuko opened her mouth, but all that came out was a dry, painful noise. The girl tsked softly, like that was the answer she had been expecting. She helped Nezuko sit up, and vanished for a moment, before reappearing with a glass of water. Nezuko took it gratefully, and after she’d finished the whole thing, the girl made a satisfied noise and handed her another. “Better?”
Nezuko nodded, sipping the next glass slower, mentally reassessing Zenitsu and Inosuke as she did. Zenitsu seemed to be about the same as usual, but there was a seed of new confidence blossoming inside him. Alongside it, Nezuko could feel a heightened piece of anxiety that might have been for her, or maybe for himself. Maybe it was just a new generalized fear.
Inosuke’s soul was suspiciously quiet and reserved. Instantly, Nezuko could tell that he’d been injured in more ways than one.
She opened her eyes, handing her second now-empty glass to the girl. “Thank you,” she croaked. “Where…” She looked around slowly, scanning the room for a familiar wooden box. To her surprise, she realized that Tanjirou’s energy wasn’t even in this room.
“Your brother has been placed in a different room for now,” the girl replied quickly, her tone clipped and business-like. “One that is kept in constant darkness, with a nice bed so he doesn't have to cram himself into that box. He’s been asleep since yesterday.”
Since yesterday? How long had Nezuko been asleep for? She opened her mouth to ask, but the girl beat her to it.
“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for four days. You developed a bit of an infection in that wound due to Shinazugawa-sama’s blood mixing with your own when he injured you. Your fever broke yesterday afternoon, which was why I was able to convince Tanjirou-kun to leave and get some rest of his own.”
Nezuko processed all this information slowly, and then looked at Zenitsu. A string of snot was attached to his sleeve, and it wobbled whenever he moved, which made Nezuko instantly regret looking at him. His relieved expression, however, reminded her that he was her family now, despite how irritating he could be. Yes, he was a snot-nosed idiot. But he was her snot-nosed idiot.
“Nezuko-chan~” he whined, “I’m so glad you’re alright!”
Nezuko scowled at him. “Don’t call me that,” she replied.
“That’s what I keep telling him,” the girl grumbled. “I’m Aoi, by the way. And no, I don’t read ‘souls’ or whatever like you do. I’m just very good at reading facial expressions.”
Nezuko smiled at her. “That’s a very useful skill to have when you’re a healer,” she replied.
Aoi flushed slightly, and turned away. “Yes, well,” was all she said in reply. She turned and made her way to the door, hoisting a basket of linens onto her hip. “Try to talk some sense into Idiot One and Idiot Two over here. I’ll be back.”
Nezuko watched her leave, contemplating her. She was an interesting person, for sure. There was more to her soul than the snippets Nezuko had picked up on as they were speaking. Nezuko wanted to sit in a room near her and piece her spirit together like a puzzle, figuring out each intricate section.
Instead, she turned to Zenitsu. “So,” she started. “What’s up with you? Where are your hands?”
Instantly, a swell of panic crested over Zenitsu’s presence, and he threw himself across the gap between their beds, sobbing. “Nezukooooo!” he blustered, wrapping both of his arms around one of hers. “Listen to me!!!”
Nezuko tried to free her arm from his grasp, but she was too tired. She settled for scowling at him instead.
“I got stabbed by this really gross spider guy, and he poisoned me so I would turn into a spider too. Isn’t that mean!! Just because he was ugly and I’m beautiful?? Right Nezuko???”
Nezuko finally succeeded in shoving his face away, and he landed on the ground with a thud and a wail. “Then what happened, doofus?” she asked.
“Well, I killed him, but then I was turning into a spider, which is why my hands are so small, and why I have to drink that gross stuff that that mean girl keeps yelling at me about.”
“You should be a better patient for Aoi,” Nezuko replied after a few minutes.
“WHAT??? Nothing to say about how I killed a demon?? Nothing about, oh wow, Zenitsu, you’re so brave, I’m so glad you didn’t die, you’re my hero!! Nothing??? Just, Oh, Zenitsu, be nicer to Aoi-chan~ WHAT IS THIS, TEAM-UP-AGAINST-ZENITSU???”
“Yes,” Nezuko replied deadpanned. “That’s always what everything is.”
“You’re so mean to me!!” he sobbed.
Nezuko grinned sleepily at him and patted his hair, before glancing at Inosuke. “So,” she said slowly, “What's wrong with him?”
“I’m fine,” Inosuke croaked suddenly, his voice too raspy and too low. “Don’t worry about it.”
Nezuko’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. Was that really his voice just now??
She looked back at Zenitsu, who just shrugged, focusing on trying to wipe away the trail of mucus hanging out of his nose. “His throat got crushed or something,” he said.
Nezuko froze. “Wha—what?” she breathed.
“I dunno the details, but Aoi says his neck got like, really smushed, and then he yelled a lot, and now his throat is all messed up.”
Nezuko whipped back to face Inosuke. This happened because I wasn’t fast enough. My friend got injured because I couldn’t make it back in time—
Suddenly, Zenitsu giggled. “Now he’s super mellow and depressed. It’s kinda funny.”
Neauko scowled at him and used the hand on his head to yank some of his hair.
“OW!” he yelped. “WHY??”
“It absolutely is not funny,” she replied sternly. “He’s your friend, and he got hurt. Don’t laugh at him!”
“Whaa?? But if he were in my shoes, he’d laugh at me!!”
“That doesn’t matter,” Nezuko replied, pulling her hand away from Zenitsu’s hair and carefully crossing her arms so that she didn’t bump the new injury on her right one. “He’s hurt so you need to be considerate and sensitive.”
~
Inosuke couldn’t exactly stop himself from listening to what Nemuka said to Renigu, since they were sitting right next to him, but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. After all, then he got to hear Nezumo defending him, and Zeiu getting scolded, which was always a bit of a pleasure…
And even though he couldn’t exactly drag himself out of his despair just yet, he was…grateful. Grateful to Nezuko, for sticking up for him. Grateful to Zenistu, for being an idiot so Inosuke could smile, even if no one could see it.
For the very first time, Inosuke was grateful for his…his friends. It was weird. To consider them his friends. But he liked it.
He’d never really had friends before.
↢↣
It turned out that Nezuko had several lacerations on her face, arms, and legs from the spider demon’s threads. The one under her eye might leave a scar, but only a little one, Aoi reassured her. The one on her arm from Shinazugawa’s blade would definitely leave a mark. Oh, and to top it all off, she had torn several muscles, and cracked a bone in her lower jaw. Just because apparently neither her nor any of her friends understood the definition of NOT going all out at all times .
Zenitsu needed to take his medicine five times daily to combat the poison in his system. His right arm and leg had shrunken and gone numb from the effects of the demon he fought, and the left side of his body was continually spasming and twitching out, which might have been a side effect from using one fighting form over and over and over again.
Inosuke’s larynx and vocal cords had been internally bruised from the pressure of the father demon strangling him. His confidence had also taken a huge hit, but Nezuko wasn’t exactly sure what to do about that at the moment.
As for Tanjirou, he just had to sleep off his injuries and recharge completely.
Despite what they’d been through, the four of them were in pretty good shape. After a few days of Nezuko giving Inosuke supportive (and occasionally aggressive) pep talks about why all the reasons he wasn’t weak, and how facing something above his level didn’t diminish his strength, he started to come back to life a bit. Zenitsu was annoying and whiny, as always, but Nezuko was starting to wonder what she would do without his voice always nagging somewhere in the back of her mind.
After all, they were idiots. But, as she'd told Lower Five, they were her idiots. Her family . And she couldn’t imagine giving them up to save the world.
↢↣
About a week into their recovery, Inosuke and Nezuko were visited by a cute young guy with black hair and dark eyes. Zenitsu instantly hated him, and how familiar he was with his friends. After all, Zenitsu knew them first!! Who even was this poser??
“Murata-san??” Nezuko exclaimed, looking (and sounding) genuinely happy and surprised. That was Zenitsu's first red flag. Even Inosuke perked up a little, grumbling something about how he needed to punch him in the face. If Inosuke knows him well enough to remember he wanted to punch him in the face, then they must be close!!!! Zenitsu wailed internally.
Zenistu didn’t like the look of this guy—after all, he had that classic cute swoopy hair, and big dark eyes, and a strong nose, and he was just so damn good-looking. And he was a higher-ranking demon slayer, and he smiled so prettily at Nezuko every time she looked his way. (Which was wayyyy more than she needed to; what, was it like he was talking specifically to her?? Get a life, nerd. Wait, was he talking specifically to her—?)
The pretty guy mopped around telling Nezuko about his experience with the Hashira, how they were so scary (OooHhh, big deal—), and when Nezuko told him her badass story about axe-kicking one of the Pillars and getting stabbed by him, Murata’s stupid pretty eyes almost popped right out of his head.
Nezuko smiled wryly and glanced at Zenitsu as she was telling her story, which made him feel a little better, but only barely. He still didn’t like how Murata was looking at Nezuko, HIS Nezuko, who was going to be HIS WIFE one day (so literally back off, jerkwad—).
When Kochou-san came by, the guy finally pissed off (as he should), but Zenitsu caught him muttering “A goddess, I knew she was a goddess, why didn’t anyone warn Shinazugawa-sama—” as he left. Zenitsu didn’t know what that meant, and even if it was actually a pretty accurate description of Nezuko on her better days (and also on her worse ones, depending on how you viewed the concept of ‘goddess’), that didn’t mean random-ass MuRaTa got to call her that!!!!!
~
Nezuko smirked, looking at Zenitsu as Kochou walked into the room, bringing her false, sugary personality with her. Jealous Zenitsu was definitely not something Nezuko had ever thought she’d see, though now that she thought about it, it probably shouldn't have come as such a shock. After all, it was Zenitsu. He was definitely the type to get possessive of his friends.
“How are your bodies doing?” Kochou asked sweetly.
Nezuko always watched Kochou carefully. After all, she was a bit of a wild-card. Even with Nezuko’s perceptive abilities, it was sometimes hard to get a read on the other girl. She was just so…false. There was no other way to put it. To be sure, there were certainly parts of her that were so painfully real that they made Nezuko’s teeth ache. For example, her determination and hatred for demons? Real as the sun in the sky. Her sweet, sugary smile? Sometimes it really was genuine. But most of the time, it was so false, it felt ready to crumble right off her pretty face.
“Getting much better,” Nezuko answered carefully, keeping a sharp eye on Kochou. Inosuke just grunted, heading for the bathrooms. Zenitsu blushed and said nothing at all.
The hard part about your only friends being two polar-opposite idiots was that Nezuko didn’t ever really have any middle ground. She always had to be the sensible one. Currently, she was the only one who was still wary around Kochou, because Inosuke didn’t really care, and Zenitsu was practically in love with her.
“I’m very glad to hear that you’re all getting well again. I believe this means it’s time to start your recovery training!”
Something about the way Kochou’s soul snickered at the words ‘recovery training’ had Nezuko leaning back in apprehension.
Apparently, Zenitsu had also realized that something was off about Kochou’s tone. “Um…Recovery training?” he squeaked.
Kochou clapped her hands and beamed at them. “Don’t worry, you’ll see in no time!!”
↢↣
Zenitsu couldn’t pretend that the Butterfly Mansion didn't scare him a little. First of all: Aoi-chan. Honestly, enough said right there. Second of all, it was clear that Nezuko and Shinobu-san had some weird history with one another. Nezuko was always watching her like a hawk, which would have probably scared Zenitsu a lot even if he hadn’t noticed Shinobu-san watching Nezuko right back. It was like they were locked in some weird silent staring contest. In fact, Zenitsu had started to dread the way Nezuko would sit up slightly when Shinobu-san came close to their room, because it meant that Zenitsu had to focus on navigating their weird minefield instead of basking in how beautiful Shinobu-san was.
But at the same time, there was something about the sounds that Shinobu-san made that unsettled Zenitsu. The sounds were…irregular, to say the least. They were inconsistent and a little harsh to listen to. Zenitsu wasn’t sure what to think of her, because his first impression was that she was something of an angel or a goddess. The other people that had been turned into spiders certainly seemed to think so, at least; they’d flocked to her in tears, despite the odd sounds she emanated.
But enough about that!
Zenitsu's current biggest fear included having to go to recovery training with his friends. When it came to the newly broken Inosuke, Zenitsu never really knew what to expect, so he wasn’t thrown for the loop too hard when Inosuke came trudging back to the recovery room with a black cloud hanging over his head. But when even Nezuko came back grimacing and limping slightly, Zenitsu couldn’t bear it.
“Nezuuukoooo,” he sobbed, “why do you guys look like that?? You have to tell me what you did todayyyy!!!”
She just sighed as she rolled into bed, her entire body letting out a breath of relief as she sagged into the mattress. “It wasn’t that bad,” she said. “Just stretches and playing tag and stuff like that.”
“Then why do you two look half dead???” Zenitsu demanded, pointing his slightly stubby fingers at Nezuko accusingly.
She rolled her eyes at him and flipped onto her other side, away from Zenitsu. “Because it was hard,” she mumbled. “And my body is still sore, and it doesn’t want to do recovery training.”
No matter how much Zenitsu pestered her, she only ever said the same thing: that it wasn’t that bad, she was just still getting used to it. However, the fact that she and Inosuke returned every single time looking like they’d just walked directly through hell seemed to say exactly the opposite.
The morning that Zenitsu was forced to join the others, he was physically shaking in his slippers as he clung to the back of Nezuko’s shirt. He was, to say the least, terrified in a way he’d never been before, and he’d faced off with demons on multiple occasions.
When they entered the training room, he was faced with Aoi-chan’s lovely (very annoyed) face. As he listened to her explain how he would be massaged by a bunch of girls, and then able to touch them during reflex training and tag…well, to put it frankly, Zenitsu wasn’t sure how much more time he had before he literally exploded.
First of all, HOW DARE NEZUKO AND INOSUKE, HIS FRIENDS, COME BACK EVERY SINGLE EVENING LOOKING LIKE THEY’D BEEN THROUGH HELL?????
Slowly, he raised a quivering hand, his vision hazy with rage.
~
Nezuko had been sneaking glances at Zenitsu through all of Aoi’s explanation, growing increasingly worried for her and Inosuke’s own health and safety. Jealousy and anger had spread through him like a wildfire, and now he was raising his hand, and Nezuko could only think oh no, he’s going to kill us.
After all, she’d never felt Zenitsu’s soul flare in anger like this. As misplaced as it seemed to be, it was completely genuine, and that honestly scared her more than anything she’d been faced with thus far. Every emotion he invoked was always so extreme; when Murata had been visiting them, Zenitsu had felt so very jealous, and when Zenitsu was afraid, his anxiety was intoxicating, and when he was happy, Nezuko couldn’t stop herself from smiling right alongside of him. So it made sense that his anger would be just as extreme as the rest of him, but that actually didn’t make it any easier to process that he was angry at them, and that there was a possibility they honestly might not survive the encounter.
Here lies Kamado Nezuko: Demon Slayer, Sister, Daughter, Friend. Killed by Agatsuma Zenitsu at the Age of 14, After She Failed to Tell Him that Recovery Training Meant They Got to Hang Out With Girls All Day, she thought.
Maybe it was a bit dramatic, but she wanted the world to know that she, Nezuko, the girl who cut through rocks with her sword and broke boys’ arms for fun, was murdered by one of her best friends over the most ridiculous incident one could possibly imagine.
“You two, outside,” Zenitsu said, his voice cutting through Nezuko’s thoughts.
She grabbed Inosuke without having to be asked twice, and dragged him away from the training room before Zenitsu could decide to start yelling at them right there, which would be embarrassing for all of them.
Zenitsu barely made it outside before he turned on them, demanding that they apologize and calling them morons, which, predictably, didn’t go over well with Inosuke. And of course, earned him a punch to the face.
Nezuko was almost entranced with a weird sense of fascination as Zenitsu continued to scream about how they were the worst friends in existence and yada yada yada—
“YOU NEED TO BEG FOR FORGIVENESS!! PROSTRATE YOURSELVES!! IN FACT, SLIT YOUR STOMACHS. ACTUALLY, SCRATCH THAT, EVEN THAT WOULDN’T BE ENOUGH TO EARN MY FORGIVENESS!!!!”
“Alright, Zenitsu,” Nezuko finally forced herself to break in, “I think you’re being a little over-dramatic—”
“OH YOU DO, DO YOU??? WELL OF COURSE, YOU WOULD TAKE THIS FOR GRANTED, YOU STUPID IDIOT-FACE FEMALE!!!”
“NERUMO ISN’T A FEMALE,” Inosuke bellowed, “TAKE IT BACK!”
Nezuko was so shocked by this conversation and the fact that Inosuke apparently wanted to defend her that she didn’t have the heart (or presence of mind) to inform him that she actually was a female.
“YOU JUST CLOSE YOUR MOUTH YOU STUPID BOAR!” Zenitsu screamed. “OF COURSE YOU WOULDN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT FEMALES, OR GIRLS, OR ANYTHING LIKE IT. YOU JUST GET TO HANG OUT WITH BABES ALL DAY, ALL DAY, AND YOU’RE ACTING LIKE YOU’RE COMING BACK FROM HELL, NOT HEAVEN. YOU’RE A USELESS PIECE OF GARBAGE. AND YOOUUUUUU!!!!” he howled, turning on Nezuko. “MAYBE YOU DON’T LIKE GIRLS, BUT YOU COULD AT LEAST HELP A FRIEND OUT, YOU MAN-LOVING WASTE OF SPACE!!!!”
Nezuko was so taken aback that she almost laughed, because she’d never been called a ‘man-loving waste of space’ before, and she wasn’t even entirely sure what that meant, and the whole situation was so bizarre that she was starting to lose brain cells the longer she sat there and thought about it.
“YEAH WELL WHEN YOU START LOSING TO SOMEONE SMALLER THAN YOU, YOU’LL UNDERSTAND!” Inosuke bellowed back.
“YOU LOSE TO NEZUKO ALL THE TIME, IDIOT!”
“NOT AS MUCH AS I USED TO,” Inosuke argued. “AND SHE’S GOT THOSE KICKS.”
“OH, BIG DEAL!! OF COURSE YOU WOULDN’T KNOW A THING ABOUT GIRLS, OR HOW WONDERFUL THEY ARE, OR HOW BEAUTIFUL THEY ARE, BECAUSE YOU WERE LITERALLY RAISED ON A MOUNTAIN, YOU ANIMAL!!”
Zenitsu continued on with his screaming match with himself, and Nezuko finally busted out laughing, which didn’t help Zenitsu’s mood with her, and resulted in an even longer lecture. By the time they were back inside, Zenitsu had calmed down almost completely, and Aoi was radiating dislike towards Zenitsu that was so strong, Nezuko actually coughed.
Zenitsu was…not normal, to say the least. He started succeeding at every exercise, which obviously invoked Inosuke’s competitive streak, which meant that Nezuko got fired up too, because no way was she going to lose to two idiots who'd just spent a quarter of an hour yelling at one another about how she wasn't female.
And though it took Nezuko a little longer than she would have liked to get into the groove because of her arm injury, which still ached occasionally, by the end of the day, she and the boys had beaten everyone but Kanao.
Despite their victory streak, however, Kanao was untouchable. Even with Nezuko’s ability to read intention, Kanao was virtually impossible. The weight of her intention didn’t appear until a fraction of a second before she moved, almost like she didn’t decide on her actions until the last possible moment.
It was dizzying, and interesting, and Nezuko soon became a little obsessed with trying to figure out why.
↢↣
After a week with no headway against Kanano, Inosuke and Zenitsu quit coming to training. Zenitsu always acted like he hadn’t really been trying, which irked Nezuko to no end, because you obviously were so stop trying to save face, dummy—
Inosuke hated losing, and as a result, he also quit when it became clear that Kanao wasn’t going to be a victory they’d secure anytime soon.
Which of course, put Nezuko in a bit of a mood with them, because she couldn’t understand why they’d give up just because it got hard.
~
Zenitsu watched Nezuko leave for another practice without them, and listened to her irritated mumbling as she stormed away. He couldn’t understand why it was so important to her that they kept trying, but it was clearly bothering her a lot. He didn’t need her freaky soul reading abilities to understand that.
And as he watched her leave, he thought maybe he understood a little something else about Nezuko.
“Why do you think she keeps leaving?” he asked Inosuke.
“I don’t care,” Inosuke replied.
“Why do you think she’s so mad that we won’t go with her?”
“I don’t know,” Inosuke said. After a moment, he followed it up with, “She’s Neruno.”
Which, while incorrect (she certainly was not Neruno, whoever the heck that was), was also a valid answer. Nezuko was always a little different in all the most important ways.
She was strong. She was fierce. She didn’t like giving up on things. She wasn’t one to take her existence lightly, and she found the strangest things funny.
She was…She was just Nezuko. And she acted like giving up was never on her radar, and she couldn’t seem to understand when it appeared on other’s.
↢↣
“Just you again?” Aoi asked. She tapped her foot irately at the ground. She didn’t need to hear Nezuko’s answer; she could read it off her face.
Nezuko bowed, giving her a slight, rueful smile. “I apologize for them,” she said, the same as she always did.
Aoi waved her off. “Don’t bother,” she replied, for perhaps the one millionth time. They always did this lately. Nezuko would come in alone, Aoi would gripe about Inosuke and Zenitsu’s laziness, and Nezuko would give her that little half smile and say Sorry about my idiots in not quite that many words.
Though it was incredibly endearing, Aoi was growing a little tired of the exchange, which was probably what prompted her to say: “They obviously don’t care enough in order to push their limits, and nothing you can say will magically change that. You don’t need to feel responsible for them.”
And Nezuko’s smile grew a little, and Aoi decided that nothing she could say would stop Nezuko from trying to drag those boys back here every single morning. Aoi glanced at her out of the corner of her eye as she turned. “You know, you don’t need to come if you don’t want to either.”
And then Nezuko’s smile grew even more; it stretched into that grin that revealed her teeth and always reminded Aoi of a wolf she’d seen once as a child—black fur and green eyes, scars across the muzzle, lips pulled back to show off dangerous white fangs.
That look always meant something a little different, but right now, Aoi could read its meaning clear as day: I’m not going anywhere until I’ve won the game.
And she never did. Nezuko came back every day with her eyes blazing as she apologized for Zenitsu and Inosuke, with her fingers twitching with the itch for victory.
And every day, she left with a scowl turned towards the floor, her face pinched in thought.
But today, she turned back. “Aoi,” she said slowly, “Kanao…”
Aoi was surprised to feel Kanao at her elbow, silent as always.
“Why can’t I win against you?” Nezuko asked. “What do you have that I don’t?” Her expression was a little frustrated, but mostly curious, like she genuinely wanted to know, wanted to be able to make herself better. Aoi liked that about Nezuko. She worked until she was able to get everything, and though she wasn’t always very patient with herself, she always finished what she started.
Kanao, predictably, said nothing, and when Aoi looked over, she was simply smiling blankly, the way she always did.
And though Aoi did know, to some extent, she also knew that it wouldn’t be her place to offer up that information. She had trained under Shinobu just as Kanano had, but she hadn’t been able to hack it in the real game. So she became a healer instead, to maintain her place in this world, to stay by the sides of the people who’d raised her for as long as they would let her. And though she enjoyed the routine, puzzling game of playing doctor, she knew that she’d given up her right to warrior insights.
~
Nezuko knew without them answering that neither of them knew what to tell her. Kanao, always so incredibly empty, said nothing, just smiled, doll-like and delicate. Aoi glanced at Kanao, and a wave of twisted affection lapped off of her, and Nezuko frowned slightly, studying it.
It was a twinge of jealousy and shame mixed into a tidal wave of familial love, and Nezuko wondered, not for the first time, what their relationship was.
Before she could ask, Aoi was waving her off, telling her she’d see her tomorrow, and Nezuko wasn’t sure what to do after a dismissal that clear, so she forced herself to walk away without the answers to a single one of her questions.
Three little presences pulled her out of her thoughts, and she turned around to see Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho approaching her. They smiled as she met their eyes, tittering nervously among themselves. “We brought you a towel!” One of them chirped cheerfully.
Nezuko grinned and took it from small outstretched hands. “Thank you very much,” she said. “You girls take such good care of me!”
They blushed as one, their souls intricately linked, not the way that Oyakata-sama and his twins were, but the way that one can only be with people that one has known all their life.
Kiyo stepped forward, and the others shuffled behind her, looking up at Nezuko with their lovely dark eyes. “Nezuko-san, do you do Total Concentration Breathing all the time?” she asked.
“Like…all the time?” Nezuko asked, feeling a little taken aback.
“Morning, noon, and night!” Sumi exclaimed.
“Even when you’re sleeping! And eating! And—”
“Wait, really??” Nezuko asked. “Is that what Kanao does?”
“Yes!” Naho replied with a big smile. “We heard you asking them how Kanao-san is so much better than you, and since Aoi-san and Kanao-san didn’t answer, we thought we should tell you!”
Nezuko turned this over in her mind. “Do the Pillars do this Total Concentration Constant?” she asked.
“Uh-huh!” the three girls sang as one.
That made sense. They all had such an untouchable energy, and Kanao had a very similar feeling to her. Nezuko had wondered if it was just because of her oddly empty spirit, but it seemed now that that wasn’t the case.
“I see,” she said, and felt a smile curl at her lips. From the way the three girls’ spirits fluttered in a nervous little harmony, she could tell that it wasn’t her nice smile, but she was a little too tired and preoccupied to care. She turned on her heel, just barely remembering to call “Thank you, girls!” over her shoulder before she retired for the night to tell Tanjirou’s sleeping form about her discovery.
↢↣
Doing Total Concentration Constant reminded Nezuko a lot of her early training days, except this time instead of Sabito and Makomo to assist her, she had three little girls training to be healers under Kochou’s guidance.
In all honesty, it was a lot more painful than she’d been expecting. Even her early training hadn’t been this hellish, which was really saying something. Her lungs consistently felt on the urge of exploding, and her eardrums were about two seconds away from rupturing at all times.
She pulled herself to her feet, gasping as sweat poured down her face. I can’t do this as I am, she realized faintly, placing a hand over her thudding heart. From somewhere nearby, she caught onto three little presences that watched her with the intense adoration of children. She ignored them, focusing on pulling breath into her lungs. If I can’t breathe properly, that means my lungs are weak, she reminded herself. Which meant there was only one thing to be done: She needed to train harder, faster, and stronger, until her lungs were strong enough to pull off this Total Concentration Constant.
She remembered the first time she’d met Sabito, how he’d asked her what exactly she thought she was doing. At the time, she’d been angry, but looking back on it, she realized that she’d only been going through the basics. In order to improve, Sabito and Makomo had pushed her to become better. Now, they weren’t around to force her. She would have to be her own taskmaster.
And that would probably be the hardest part, but if she could face off against one of the Twelve Demon Moons and the literal Wind Pillar in a twenty-four hour span and live to tell both tales, then surely she could push herself to become stronger.
↢↣
“You want me to blow into the gourds?” Nezuko asked skeptically, poking them. They seemed different from normal gourds, but Nezuko couldn’t put her finger on why.
“Yes!” Kiyo agreed cheerfully. “When Kochou-san was training Kanao-san, she often made her blow into these gourds.”
“Why?” Nezuko asked. Something about the way these girls felt was a little off to her, and she couldn’t always get a read on what they felt. It was similar to Kochou, and it made Nezuko wonder how long all these butterfly girls had lived here together.
“To destroy it!” Kiyo said happily.
Nezuko froze. “...Destroy?”
“Uh-huh,” Kiyo continued, oblivious to Nezuko’s shock. “And since it’s a training gourd, it's even harder than a normal one!”
Nezuko thought of Kanao, how thin and fragile she’d always seemed compared to Nezuko’s muscular arms and legs and steely expressions. Her resolve hardened. If Kanao could destroy these gourds with her breath, then Nezuko would too. Not a matter of if, but when, she reminded herself.
“The size of gourd Kanao can currently destroy is this one,” the girls continued, showing Nezuko a gourd that was half her height.
“Are you serious?” she demanded. She imagined tiny little Kanao exploding that massive gourd, and felt a little light headed for her.
But it’s fine, Tanjirou’s amused voice spoke in her head. Because you can do it too. You just have to keep working at it.
Which was true, of course. None of this had ever been easy for Nezuko, no matter how natural it might have felt to finally have a sword in her hand. This would be no different. Life was always challenging, and Nezuko knew that the only way to success was to handle the cards she’d been dealt without complaining. She had to make things work for her, or else she’d never be able to get anywhere.