Chapter Text
Zenitsu liked being a boy. He liked being a boy. He liked liking girls, as all boys should.
But… he still wasn’t happy. Being a boy, doing boyish things, was tiring. It was a conscious effort to keep it up.
Maybe things would be easier as a girl. Apart from his bushy eyebrows and high cheekbones, he had a pretty feminine face, not as pretty as Inosuke’s, but enough to pass as a plain-faced girl. Maybe he should just ditch being a Demon Slayer and become a Nyuhafa in some distant city. Somewhere where the Dutch and Englishmen frequent.
He cringed at the thought, shifting on the futon underneath his knees.
Tanjirou and Inosuke, left Zenitsu and Nezuko alone in the inn room they rented for the night to hunt down a grocer. They were just wandering in between missions, waiting for the Tanjirou’s Kasugai crow to scream out their next directions and needed supplies.
Usually, in the alone-with-Nezuko situation, Zenitsu would be all on her, playing the lovesick idiot. He just couldn’t bring himself to. Usually he panicked and made a fool of himself in front of pretty girls. Why he did it was a mystery, even to himself.
When Zenitsu encountered a girl, he tripped over himself, then panicked and somehow always ended up proposing to them in his panic. Of course he was always rejected, most of the time humiliated, and occasionally slapped.
He couldn’t blame them for it; he was such a creep, all the rejections and Kaigaku’s stinging insults adding up to that conclusion. Jii-chan would be so disappointed.
Nezuko made a small sound from the other futon, staring at Zenitsu with her soft pink eyes.
“Hi, Nezuko-chan,” he sniffled, wiping some snot on his haori.
Her heartbeat shifted from her sharp, fast tempo to a softer one. It reminded him of Tanjirou’s heartbeat in a way. Her brother’s was slower though, like the steady beat of hyōshigi against each other; it wasn’t as loud as hyōshigi though, more like the gentle rushing of water.
Nezuko let out a concerned hum.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” Zenitsu tried to give a smile, but Nezuko didn’t seem to buy it. He laughed slightly at the face she made. “I dunno, I just feel like I’m living a lie or something. If that makes sense.”
A nod came from Nezuko, prompting him to go on.
“And I feel so worthless. Like I’m doing something I’m not supposed to be doing. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this. Tanjirou and Inosuke seem so confident in everything they do–Inosuke, a bit too much–and they never seem to fear anything.” Tears somehow leaked from his eyes. He continued in a whisper. “Kocho-sama said something to me about this once. Something about how Demon Slayers who don’t like themselves don’t last long. Maybe she was right. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a Demon Slayer.”
He was engulfed in a hug, Nezuko’s skin where her sleeves rolled up cold and stony, yet soft at the same time. Zenitsu pulled her tighter to himself, his shoulders hitching with a sob. A few pats landing on his back.
They sat there for a while, whenever his sobs fizzled out, another round of tears seemed to always push its way to the front. Nezuko hummed sympathetically everytime and rocked him side to side.
The door opened. “Hi- is everything okay?”
“Trouble! Let me through!” Inosuke pushed his way past Tanjirou, bearing paper bags on each arm, swinging them like a maniac.
“Inosuke! The glass!” He warned in vain as one of the glass bottles shattered against a wall, tearing through the bottom of the bag. The contents of the bag tumbled to the ground, some other bottles rolling, some of them shattering along with the first.
Nezuko and Zenitsu jumped apart at the noise.
Inosuke paused and then chortled. “You and Chizuko were sucking face, weren’t you!”
“Inosuke!” Tanjirou ran his hands through his hair, messing up the gel. “Don’t say such crude things like that!”
Inosuke and Tanjirou devolved into bickering, the former insisting that the term wasn't crude and Tanjirou was just sensitive, and the latter trying to explain manners to Inosuke.
Everyone’s loud words pierced through Zenitsu’s ears. “Stop, please!” He wailed, fat globs of tears falling from his face.
The room stilled, silence seeping from every corner of the room. Even Inosuke kept quiet, leaving Zenitsu’s pained cries echoing around the room, his hands covering his ears harshly and his eyes squeezed close.
“Hey, Zenitsu?” Tanjirou’s voice sounded muffled, probably because his hands were clenched tight on his ears. Calloused hands–yet soft in their touch–wrapped around his forearms, gently removing Zenitsu’s hands from his head.
“You’re okay, alright?” Tanjirou whispered.
Zenitsu whined between his heaving sobs. Opening his eyes, Tanjirou’s face was almost touching his own. His heart froze in place, everything going quiet. No blood-pumping-sounds nor heart beats. Just pure silence and Tanjirou Tanjirou Tanjirou. And Tanjirou smiled softly and oh. He-
The moment was broken by Inosuke. “I’m hungry!”
Tanjirou turned away from Zenitsu, letting go of his arms. A strange ache pervaded his chest.
“Well you broke the ingredients,” Tanjirou replied, a sort of lovingly exasperated lilt in his voice. “We’re going to have to eat out, which means you need to be on your best behavior.”
A cackle came from Inosuke. “The Great Inosuke is always the best!”
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“And don’t come back!” The waitress shrieked, pulling the door shut behind her.
Zenitsu groaned and put his head in his hands,letting the light rain fall over his back . “This is so embarrassing.”
Contrary to Inosuke’s earlier statement, he was not on his best behavior. He had tried to fight the musicians that played on the stage in a western style music and dance. Dancers in bright orange dresses and large feathers on their heads had fled screaming at Inosuke’s shouts for a fight. It could also be the fact he had been wielding two swords.
…It was definitely the fact he had been wielding two swords.
Tanjirou and Zenitsu had pulled him out of the establishment, apologizing to the very upset musicians and dancers.
“Inosuke…” Tanjirou turned to him, disappointment written across his face.
Strangely silent, Inosuke sat down next to Zenitsu.
“... I’m hungry.”
Zenitsu laughed bitterly. “I am too. If only
someone
didn’t try to fight the restaurant staff; we’d be getting served and eating.”
“Zenitsu. I get you’re irritated, but Inosuke doesn’t know any better.” Tanjirou’s hair was steadily falling from the day’s events and the rain that had picked up while they were in the restaurant.
The only word Zenitsu could put to Tanjirou at this moment was ethereal . The way his dark hair haloed around his head, contrasting the orange of the setting sun which peaked around the rain clouds, Zenitsu came to the sudden realization.
Tanjirou Kamado was the most beautiful being alive.