Chapter Text
Nezuko Kamado was significantly more human than people gave her credit for.
At least, that was her theory- sad as it was, her human memories were fuzzy and vague. Maybe it was the difference between her old and new senses, maybe the transformation messed with her memory. Whatever the reason, Nezuko wasn’t really sure why people either treated her like a wild animal or a five year old. She was fourteen now, damn it, even if her neutral body was still twelve. She deserved some basic respect.
Not even Tanjiro was perfect all the time. She couldn’t fault him for it, not after everything he’d done for her, all the grueling walks up and down the mountain to bring their siblings food, and Nezuko knew he tried. She walked on her own whenever it was safe, and she helped him kill demons on basic missions!
But sometimes the way he talked to her- talked about her- felt… Different. Like he was talking about a child, not a person who could snap his neck if she wanted to. She wouldn’t. She didn’t want to and never would. But she was capable of it.
They were traveling with Zenitsu and Inosuke again, stopping by a run-down abandoned house on the side of the road. Nezuko was keeping watch while the boys slept, since they couldn’t stay up like she could.
She was still kind of tired. But she could sleep in the morning, and the boys had to keep moving. They didn’t have any urgent missions incoming, so they decided to head back to the butterfly mansion to help out Miss Shinobu and wait until their next assignment. Nezuko liked Miss Shinobu. She reminded Nezuko of her mom.
That happened a lot now, too- random humans that strongly resembled her family for no apparent reason. Nezuko was pretty sure it had something to do with Mr. Urokodaki since she heard his letter mention it, but she wasn’t really sure. I’ll ask Tanjiro in the morning, she resolved.
Oh.
No, she wouldn’t.
The hard bamboo of her gag bit into the corners of her mouth, a harsh reminder of what she was. What she’d become. Nezuko hated it with every fiber of her being, even if she understood the necessity. Whenever her jaw ached from hours of strain before it knit itself back together, it felt like Mr. Tomioka was choking her with it all over again.
There was a good hour before she could comfortably breathe around it. That wasn’t a fun hour to spend in the snowy woods, unsure if your brother was going to wake up before the cold got to him while trying not to pass out yourself.
She tried not to think about it.
Nezuko stared into the low flames to distract herself, mesmerized by the soft glow of the embers and occasional lick of blue flame. She liked this part of the fire, when everyone around it was at peace and silent. At least, they should have been.
“N’zuko?” Tanjiro muttered from next to her. His eyes weren’t open, but his brow was creased with concern. Rough, callused hands curled against the ground. Nezuko frowned. A nightmare, maybe?
“Pl’se- no, no, please don’t,” he gasped, sharp tears escaping closed eyes. Definitely a nightmare. Nezuko whined high in the back of her throat- she hated seeing her brother like this. Knowing he took his own fear, his doubts and anxiety, and pushed it into the back of his mind where it couldn’t hurt anyone else.
Maybe Nezuko didn’t mind sharing some of that hurt. She was just as strong as Tanjiro now- he was the eldest son, but she was the eldest daughter too. Tanjiro was expected to provide for their family while Nezuko was expected to care for them. For the few blissful years they had those roles, they made a great team.
Then- hell.
Nezuko shoved the bloodstained flashbacks away, choosing instead to focus on how Tanjiro’s fingers curled into his haori, which was rapidly becoming damp with tears. She stroked his hair with one hand, carefully carding through his hair while keeping her talons away from his scalp. The creases in his face slowly dissipated, not fast enough for Nezuko’s tastes, but they did.
She was too focused on her task to notice the approach until it spoke from in front of her. “You could run, you know.”
Nezuko jumped, eyes wide at the demon in front of her. It was clearly unimportant- probably consumed two, maybe three humans. Its black eyes met hers impassively. “I don’t get why you stay with them,” it continued. “They clearly don’t care about you. Aren’t you hungry? ”
Of course she was hungry. She was starving.
But this bastard didn’t need to know that. She let out a warning growl deep in her chest. The demon raised its hands in clear surrender, sending a ripple of pride through her. “Fine, fine. Do what you want,” it drawled. “I’m not here to attack you, either. I heard what these slayers did to a pair of Upper Moons, and I’m not looking to die tonight. Just putting it out there that you could do better.”
It didn’t move for a long moment. Nezuko growled again, louder this time. The demon had the audacity to laugh at her. “Feisty one, aren’t you?” it teased. “Shame. You’re wasted on these humans. They don’t appreciate you.”
The demon disappeared as silently as it came.
Nezuko dropped her shoulders, confused but relieved. She’d never had to kill a demon alone before. It seemed strange that a demon would reveal itself just to- to do what? To warn her? She scoffed, settling back against the wall and watching the embers die. Some people were just stupid. Of course Nezuko knew she could run. But with her brother she had a home, a family and a much better shot at not being murdered in cold blood. Yeah, she’d take her chances.
She caught Zenitsu’s wide eyes from across the fire. She tilted her head and gave a curious warble, and Zenitsu just smiled. “Nothing,” he whispered, “we’re just really lucky to have you around.” He sat up and stretched, back cracking with a satisfying series of pops. He caught her eye again and took a breath as if to say something, but hesitated. “Are you…” he paused. “ Are you hungry? I’m sorry I never thought to ask before.”
Nezuko shrugged. It wasn’t the same kind of agonizing ache in her stomach that she ignored in order to get her siblings through the winter, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant. Nezuko had felt worse. Zenitsu frowned, apparently unsatisfied. “I can hear the difference. You don’t sound… I don’t know, you just sound hungry. Like you’ve felt it before and know how to ignore it. I mean, I can’t speak for how you and Tanjiro grew up, but- just because you were hungry before doesn’t mean you have to stay that way.”
Nezuko sat there for a moment, stunned. She’d never thought about it that way. She shrugged again, more hesitantly this time, before giving up and nodding. She wasn’t hungry hungry, the kind where she nearly cried before giving Rokuta the last of her food, but the ache in her stomach was just sharp enough to press into her at the wrong angle of opportunity.
Huh. Maybe she wasn’t doing as fine as she thought.
Zenitsu pulled some raw meat out of his bag. “I picked this up in the last town to put in some ramen later, but I can always get more,” he offered, handing it to her. Nezuko took it with ginger hands, delicately laying it across the back of her hand while undoing the knot with the other. Untying a knot with one hand behind her head while trying not to drop something with the other proved to be an interesting challenge until Zenitsu moved across the fire.
“Oh, sorry, I can help,” he stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was careful to avoid her hair while picking apart the material, until the fabric came loose and the gag fell out of her mouth and oh, that felt so nice.
Nezuko worked her jaw for a moment, letting the muscles relax and bones click back into place. A contented purr managed to escape her, rumbling through her chest as she relished the feeling of having nothing in her mouth. She never thought she’d consider that a luxury before.
“Thank you,” she rasped, voice cracking from disuse. Her own voice surprised her- she usually wasn’t able to articulate very well. Based on how high Zenitsu jumped, he hadn’t expected it either. “I-I didn’t know you could still talk,” he squeaked.
Nezuko smiled, glancing away. “I don’t think I always can,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t really know. But still,” she gestured to the meat in her hand, “thank you for this. I hadn’t even thought about it.”
Zenitsu only nodded, and Nezuko bit into the first food she’d had in two years.
It didn’t taste quite right- then again, she expected that. But it was rich and flavorful and the texture was divine. She devoured it in mere moments, fangs tearing through it with ease, a deep sadness panging through her once the small meal was gone.
“I can get more next time,” Zenitsu assured, watching the bliss on her face morph into wistful appreciation. Nezuko brightened, turning to face him. “Oh, can you?” she gasped. “Please. I’d really appreciate it.” Zenitsu smiled, blood rising to his cheeks. “Of course!”
There was peaceful silence for a moment, broken only by Inosuke’s shuffling and Tanjiro’s deep, even breathing. “I can take over watch, it’s almost dawn anyway,” Zenitsu mentioned nonchalantly. Nezuko’s face twisted into disappointment. Just looking at the bamboo gag made her jaw ache fiercely.
It didn’t go unnoticed. “You don’t have to put it back right away. I really doubt you’re going to viciously attack me right now,” Zenitsu laughed, snorting when Nezuko jokingly raised her hands in a claw shape.
“Sorry if this is a bad question, but is the gag really necessary? I mean, you seem fine most of the time.” Nezuko waved her hand in a so-so motion. “Most of the time, no, I don’t really need it. But on the off chance that someone catches me off guard or I haven’t slept for a while, I’d rather be safe than sorry. I know it makes other people feel safer too, so I don’t really mind,” she answered casually. Going back to not talking was going to be a pain, she realized internally.
She’d deal with it in the morning.
The two of them ended up talking all the way into the morning, Nezuko shifting into her box as dawn broke. It really wasn’t that bad- Tanjiro bought her a cushion and small blanket for the inside, so even if it was dark it wasn’t cold or uncomfortable. She took the opportunity to burrow into the blanket to escape the crisp chill of an autumn morning, lightheartedly making fun of Zenitsu for being trapped in the cold.
“It’s not my fault you can fit into a box the size of my torso,” he complained with no real bite. Nezuko grinned- not a polite or apologetic smile she was so used to giving, but a real one that made the bridge of her nose wrinkle and eyes screw shut. “Just get smaller, Zenitsu. It’s not that hard.” He pouted, dissolving into laughter as Nezuko tried to mock his expression. “You look like a kicked puppy! You know what, sure, Nezuko-chan. I’ll just take out some of my bones. Not a problem.”
Inosuke turned over and groaned something about how goddamn early it was, how the hell were they awake already, the usual morning banter. Nezuko’s smile became wistful. “I guess it really does count as morning now,” Zenitsu muttered. “I’ll help you tie it.”
“I liked this,” Nezuko admitted before slotting the bamboo back in her mouth. “Can we talk again sometime?”
“Of course,” Zenitsu affirmed. She could hear the smile in his voice as his sure hands tied a much more gentle knot than Mr. Tomioka bothered to do the first time around. For once, the ache in her jaw already settling in and the constant brush of fabric against her ears didn’t feel so overwhelming.
So much could change in two years.
As the familiar weight of sleep pressed down on her eyelids, Nezuko didn’t feel so hungry anymore.
+++
The three boys set out again around mid-morning, Zenitsu offering somewhat randomly to carry Tanjiro’s belongings.
“I’d offer to carry Nezuko, but I thought you’d prefer to keep her out of the two,” he justified. Tanjiro was somewhat taken aback- he didn’t expect Zenitsu to carry any more than he had to, but got the feeling that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
That, and that neither of his companions ever referred to the box as anything other than just that- the box. Impartial and objective, like there was nothing in it at all, like its contents weren’t more precious than the world would ever be, like Nezuko wasn’t a person with emotions and thoughts that could feel pain and loss and loneliness-
But that was a train of thought for another day.
Tanjiro easily agreed, shrugging off his smaller bag and handing it over with a smile. “Thank you, Zenitsu!” he said cheerfully, pleased at how the blond’s face brightened. Something had him in a good mood this morning, which was surprising considering he wasn’t usually a morning person. He’d woken up early this morning, too- strange. A good dream, maybe? Tanjiro didn’t question it.
They made it a good few miles by noon when Tanjiro felt some shuffling from Nezuko’s box. That wasn’t out of the ordinary- she shifted in her sleep a lot when she was human, and he thought it was cute that it carried over now that she… wasn’t.
That was, until she was banging on the door.
Tanjiro’s first thought was that there was a crack. He wasn’t careful enough with the wood, it had warped in some way, and now his little sister was burning with nowhere to escape it.
Ignoring how Inosuke and Zenitsu called after him, he ran to find dense enough tree cover before throwing open the door, already checking for injuries as Nezuko tumbled out-
She tore her gag off so hard the fabric snapped clean off, and before Tanjiro could think about it she was bent over, throwing up onto the forest floor.
He didn’t question it. He didn’t have the chance. All he could do was place a soothing hand on her back and hold her hair out of her face as she heaved. The horrible retching was over quickly, thank the gods, but took so much out of her that she just collapsed into Tanjiro’s waiting arms. He used the sleeve of his Haori to wipe her mouth without a second thought, wishing he had some kind of water for her to wash out the taste.
She didn’t sob. She didn’t scream, whimper, make any kind of sound at all. Just clung to his uniform so tightly that her nails tore finger-sized holes, not like he cared. Tanjiro felt the tears soak through as he carded one hand through her hair, gentle words escaping him while dread coiled in his stomach.
What the hell did she eat?
He heard the other two catch up with them, slowing to a stop a few feet away. “Oh, shit, ” Inosuke realized out loud. “That’s not- wait, I’m confused. I thought-”
“I’m so sorry,” Zenitsu interrupted, eyes wide with horror. “Oh god- I didn’t even think about it, Tanjiro, I’m sorry. I-”
“Zenitsu.” Tanjiro’s voice was low and even, but sent a vicious chill through the bones of the other two boys. “What did you do to my sister?”
“I can explain!” he gasped. “Please- I- we were talking last night- I mean, I was talking, and I asked her if she was hungry because I felt like we just kind of ignored that and she said yes, so I gave her the pork I got in the last town! I didn’t know, I- god, I’m so sorry,” he spilled in a frantic rush.
Tanjiro’s first impulse was to give into the rage and cut his fucking hands off. His right hand was already drifting to his sword without permission before Nezuko grabbed his wrist, shaking her head against him.
It was like a switch flipped in his head, attention switching from Zenitsu to Nezuko, searching for any other signs of harm.
“Are you okay?” he asked carefully, studying her expression. She nodded, lifting her head with a grimace. He double checked just to make sure- visible skin intact, pale from the nausea but already gaining color, eyes were clear- she was fine. Just like getting the flu when they were kids. Little moment of discomfort, then bouncing back right away.
Tanjiro shook off the remaining spite. It wasn’t fair to blame Zenitsu, he couldn’t have known. They were demon slayers, helping others was what they did for a living. If someone they cared about was hungry, of course he’d want to feed them. Tanjiro would have done the same thing.
“Okay,” he sighed, “now we know. It’s nobody’s fault, accidents happen. Nezuko can make her own decisions and Zenitsu, you couldn’t have known any better. I’m just glad it ended well.” He finished with an easy smile, watching with relief as Zenitsu’s tense shoulders dropped.
“We’ll have to get you a new one,” Tanjiro mentioned, picking up the discarded bamboo gag. “No worries, we needed to replace it anyway. Will you be fine until the next town?”
Nezuko flashed a double thumbs up, accompanied by a determined smile. Whatever anxiety left in Tanjiro’s mind was eased by her quick recovery. Not much phased his sister these days, so it was scary when something unusual did happen.
They would be fine.
(he never even thought about what a life with no food would mean for Nezuko. Tanjiro was no stranger to the stabbing pain of borderline starvation the two of them had gone through during the hardest winters- and Nezuko almost always gave up her shares of food, claiming Tanjiro needed his strength more to get up and down the mountain. She was used to the hunger, he realized.
So if she cast off those old habits so easily-
She really must be starving.
And there was nothing Tanjiro could do to stop it.)
They would be fine.