Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"-and you write it like this..." Zenitsu explained patiently, his tongue peeking out between his lips as he concentrated on demonstrating one of the more complicated kanji they’d been going over in this lesson. He wrote in slow, smooth strokes, the brush gliding over the paper effortlessly, his practised hand guiding it with ease.

Inosuke tried to pay attention. He really, really did. But the expression Zenitsu was making was just. Too. Much.

His face was still soft and plump with baby fat despite being the eldest among them; his eyes big and sparkly and ridiculously, infuriatingly expressive. He always looked so...

So...!

And sometimes, Inosuke just wanted to squash the life out of him for it.

Or, well, rather...

Listen.

Inosuke knew, alright? Contrary to what a lot of people thought, he wasn’t stupid. You’re not supposed to bite someone. Everyone told him it was a weird thing to do, especially out of the blue, and it wasn’t appropriate unless you were being attacked and had no other weapon to defend yourself with. Yeah okay, fine.

BUT! Since when had ‘being weird’ ever stopped him before?

It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten the urge, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last if past experience was anything to go by. Who could really blame him if he gave in, just this once?

His teeth itched.

His grip tightened around his brush.

His body buzzed with restless energy, but he was supposed to sit still and focus on this stupid damn writing lesson.

Zenitsu just looked so… bitable, though.

Seriously. It wasn’t fair to Inosuke.

He had held himself back so many times, and no one even knew. Zenitsu and Tanjirou would be so proud if they realized just how much self-control he actually had. They’d be so impressed. They’d shower him with all the praise he rightfully deserved.

If only they knew.

He shouldn’t.

He really wanted to.

He shouldn’t .

And yet…

“ O W ! What the hell, Inosuke?! ” Zenitsu yelped, face rapidly turning redder by the second as he clutched the cheek Inosuke’s teeth had just made friends with. “Did you just bite me?! Why would you do that??”

Inosuke didn’t even bite that hard! Not hard enough to actually hurt—just a quick, gentle (for Inosuke, anyway) nip to the apple of his cheek.

“Because! Your face is stupid and squishy,” Inosuke declared, arms crossing like it was the most obvious thing in the world (it wasn’t).

Honestly! He had been so good this whole lesson—sitting still (which he, admittedly, wasn’t the best at) and focusing really, really hard (even if he only remembered the first few kanji they did). He felt like he deserved a little treat.

Zenitsu gawked at him, mouth opening and closing like a like a flabbergasted fish for a good minute. “You can’t just bite people, you beast! It’s rude! Apologize!”

“No!” Inosuke squawked, utterly offended.

“Say you’re sorry!”

“Never!”

Zenitsu grabbed him by the shoulders—to do what, exactly, Inosuke would never know, because the moment he did, Inosuke immediately threw him over to the other side of table and tackled him, sending them rolling across the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs and shouted insults.

“Savage!”

“Wimp!”

“ Idiot! ”

“ Crybaby! ”

Zenitsu was just about to dump the entire pot of ink over Inosuke’s head when Tanjirou—still seated across the room, calmly brushing and braiding Nezuko’s hair—chose that exact moment to chime in.

“It’s probably just cuteness aggression.”

Zenitsu froze mid-motion.

“C-cu—cuteness aggression?!” he squawked, his face flaring even redder.

“What’s that?” Inosuke asked plainly, as if he wasn’t currently hunched over Zenitsu in a prefect mid-action pause, with the boy’s foot digging into his gut, poised and ready to flip him over for the umpteenth time.

“You know, when you think something’s so cute and you kinda just want to squeeze it! Or, well, bite it, I suppose,” Nezuko explained, violently hugging a pillow to illustrate her point—nearly yanking the half-finished braid from Tanjirou’s good hand as he scrambled to keep the strands in place.

“That has a name?” Inosuke bellowed in awe.

“It does!” She giggled, nodding.

“Not you too, Nezukooo!” Zenitsu wailed, dramatically shoving Inosuke off of him so he could throw his hands up to the ceiling. “I resent the implication! Anyway, that excuses nothing! Nothing! OWCH!!” he yipped as Inosuke’s teeth claimed another spot on his forearm. “Tanjirouuu, he did it again!”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough, Inosuke—give Zenitsu a break,” Tanjirou snickered.

Instead of just simply doing as he was told, Inosuke blew a raspberry at Zenitsu then he tackled Tanjirou to the floor for interfering.

Inosuke grabbed his face and affectionately nipped at (read: just about slammed his teeth into) Tanjirou’s forehead before absolutely legging it out of the house, his mad booming laughter echoing behind him.

After a moment of everyone staring after him Nezuko huffed, crossing her arms in mock offence. “What, I’m not cute enough to bite?” she pouted mockingly.

Tanjirou, still wincing in reaction to... whatever that was, opened his mouth to reply but Nezuko beat him to it.

“Haha! Inosuke thinks you guys are cuuute!” she teased with a Cheshire grin.

Tanjirou, face red, blew a raspberry at her before sighing and sitting back up, running his fingers through the loosened plait. Looked like he’d have to start over, after all.

-I!A!O!-

Tanjirou could taste blood in his mouth— his sister’s blood.

He had bitten her.

He was surrounded by enemies—each one reeking of fear, horror, and desperation. His new demonic instincts were thrilled. Enamoured. Deep, deep in the back of his mind, where he was still human, he felt sick with it.

He was in his element. He wanted more.

He was powerless . He wanted to cry.

Nezuko was still clinging to him, begging him to fight it , to come back to them .

He ignored her— even as part of him wished, DESPERATELY , that he could do exactly as she asked.

The morning sun burned him.

And yet— he adapted .

He could feel how pleased Muzan was. Thrilled. Deep down, buried beneath the monster he had become, Tanjirou could sense it— Muzan’s satisfaction. His pride. His fascination.

So fast , he murmured, just under the surface. You conquered the sun so fast .

Tanjirou wanted to tear him out, rip him away—

‘You did that,’ Muzan says, smooth as silk. ‘They hate you.’

Tanjirou lashes out.

An arm that shouldn’t exist —and yet, it does.

An eye that should be useless —and yet, he sees.

A broken sword lodged in his side —he feels nothing.

A jagged blade at his throat —it hesitates.

WEAKNESS.

He strikes .

He enjoys it.

He hates it.

He feels unstoppable .

He feels like the lowest scum of the earth.

He lunges for the nearest moving, breathing thing—

—And wakes with a gasp.

His hand automatically reaches for a sword that is no longer there. No longer needed.

“Tanjirou?”

A voice—soft, hesitant.

It comes from his right—his blind side.

There is an arm outstretched toward him, poised and paused over his shoulder—as if it were about to wake him.

His head whips toward it’s owner too fast— pain cramps through his neck, but he ignores it completely.

His left arm itches with numbness. He is glad for it.

With rapid, ragged gasps for breath Tanjirou bursts into tears.

“Shit—hey, you’re alright! it’s okay! You were just having a nightmare,” Zenitsu says softly, knelt beside Tanjirou’s futon.

Slowly—carefully, as if trying not to spook him—Tanjirou is pulled into strong, steady arms. Sweet little whispers of reassurance pour into his ear as he spirals further, trying his best to do so quietly so he didn’t disturb anyone else.

To his left, Inosuke’s happy, oblivious snores fill the room.

Nezuko’s scent—warm, human, everywhere—wraps around him.

And still, he cries harder.

His sobs muffle against Zenitsu’s chest, his good hand clutching at the fabric of his sleep robe, while his left remains numb and unmoving—a cold reminder of of what he had once briefly been.

Fingers scratch lightly at his scalp. A hand rubs slow, soothing circles into his back.

Tanjirou holds on tightly, willing himself to calm down so Zenitsu can go back to sleep.

It feels impossible.

“Sorry—” Tanjirou hiccups. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No, Tanjirou, don’t apologize,” Zenitsu sighs, resting his chin on the crown of Tanjirou’s head. “We all get nightmares, you know? It’s fine. You’re fine. Besides…” He squeezes him a little tighter. “I wouldn’t want you to be alone like this anyway. Alright?” A momentary pause. A shaky inhale. “Do you want to talk about it?” Zenitsu finally asks.

Tanjirou swallows hard. “Flashbacks,” he whispers. “It’s just flashbacks. When Muzan turned me into a demon. I couldn’t—I couldn’t stop myself. All I could do was watch while I hurt people, I was gonna—I was—I—”

“That wasn’t your fault.” Zenitsu interrupted quickly before he could go off the deep end again.

“I know, I know, but still, it was just…”

He doesn’t know how to describe it. The words are stuck in his throat. Zenitsu doesn’t rush him.

“...I can imagine it must have been horrible.”

“...Yeah.”

Another beat of silence. Another suppressed sob.

Then—“You didn’t kill anyone.”

Tanjirou chokes on another wail. “I would have—!”

If it wasn’t for Kanao, he would have.

“But you didn’t.” Zenitsu’s voice is quiet but firm. “That’s the important part. So just… just focus on that. Okay? If not for yourself, then for the rest of us who care about you.”

Tanjirou could only sniffle and nod against Zenitsu in reply, clinging to him even tighter.

At some point—he doesn’t know when—Zenitsu started quietly humming a low, soft tune, rocking Tanjirou back and forth in a slow, soothing rhythm. It eases something in his chest, softens the raw edges of his mind, until he finally starts to feel like a person again.

Outside, birds chirp softly in the dark.

Zenitsu jaw pops with a yawn, muffling it against Tanjirou’s hair.

“You should go back to sleep. I’m alright now,” Tanjirou whispers, gently pushing him back toward his futon.

“Hmm… you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. Thank you.” He offers a weak, but genuine, smile.

Zenitsu studies him carefully for a long moment by the dim light of the moon pooling in through the window before nodding, like he’s made a decision.

He lets go and nudges Tanjirou’s shoulder. “Lie down, will you?”

Tanjirou barely has time to settle onto his back before Zenitsu is lifting the blanket and crawling under it with him, pressing close against his side. An arm drapes over his waist, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Go back to sleep, Tanjirou.” The words are mumbled sleepily into his shoulder—and barely a second later, Zenitsu is out cold.

When Tanjirou wakes again a few hours later, just past sunrise, it’s to a loud snore right in his ear.

His good eye cracks open.

Inosuke is plastered to his other side.

Not under the blanket, of course. Not even really beside him. No, Inosuke is nearly on top of him—one leg slung over his thigh, an arm thrown possessively across both him and Zenitsu.

Tanjirou stares at the ceiling, heart suddenly feeling too big for his chest.

He can’t remember at what point during his breakdown he’d stopped hearing Inosuke snore.

But when he fell asleep, the room had been distinctly quiet.

-I!A!O!-

It dawns on Zenitsu once again—like it often does—that he genuinely can’t believe he’s still alive.

He’d always been so sure he’d end up just another name on the list of casualties, so certain of his own demise that now… he doesn’t know what to do with the life he has. He never planned that far ahead. It always seemed pointless.

He used to think he had a clear goal—but looking back, did he really?

Marriage. Dying not-so-heroically on the battlefield.

That had been the plan.

But now? The idea of it feels... sad.

Even if he’d found a woman willing to marry him, then what? Would he have just died with the comforting knowledge that he left someone behind? Someone who’d mourn him for a while before moving on? Was that really all he’d wanted?

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed... hollow. At least, well, at least compared to what he had now. Obviously, he was still sans a wife and all. But honestly? He was more or less content.

There was no real impending doom hovering over him anymore. No battle waiting to be fought. No certainty of death looming on the horizon. Just—peace.

Well, aside from the occasional, inexplicable panic that would crawl into his bones and make a home there when he wasn’t paying attention. But even then…

It wasn’t like he was alone. He had friends. No, wait—that wasn’t quite right.

He had a family.

As unconventional as it was, that’s what they were. And in the end, that’s what he really wanted, wasn’t it?

Not just someone to mourn him when he was gone.

Not just a fleeting attachment.

People he could care for. People who cared for him. Even with all of his faults, even when he felt lesser than the people around him—they still chose him.

And he was just glad he realized it at all.

Better late than never.

“You’re quiet today,” Nezuko comments, gently getting his attention as she waits for the rice to cool. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, just thinking.” Zenitsu continues chopping vegetables, offering a small, easy smile her way. “All good things, don’t worry about it.”

And he means it.

He’s more than alright.

He feels… utterly serene.

Nezuko watches him for a moment, then mirrors his expression back at him.

“I know what you mean,” she says, setting a hand on the counter as if grounding herself in the moment. “In spite of everything, things are good right now. Wouldn’t you say?”

He hums in affirmation. “I’d go so far as to say it’s almost perfect.”

“Oh! Almost, hm?” she teases.

Zenitsu follows her gaze—mischievous, knowing— where it lingers past the window.

Outside, Inosuke was chopping logs with far more force than necessary while Tanjirou gathered the smaller pieces and tossed them into the inferno of the burning charcoal kiln.

From here, Zenitsu could clearly hear Inosuke loudly chattering away, boasting about the rabbits he’d caught them for supper, launching into great detail about how he could track and hunt perfectly fine without his spatial awareness because, obviously, he was just that awesome.

And Tanjirou—as always—listened. He had such a gorgeously fond look on his face, too. The kind of look that made something in Zenitsu’s chest ache.

His own face burned as he slowly caught Nezuko’s implication .

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Uhm—uh—ac-actually! How about we just—just scratch out that ‘almost’ and settle for a nice, even ‘perfect’ after all!” he giggles nervously, snapping his attention back to the—

…Oh.

He’d finished chopping the vegetables at some point.

Shit! What was he supposed to busy himself with now?!

Thankfully, Nezuko, merciful goddess that she sometimes deigns to be, chooses to grant him a rare instance of mercy.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say...” she snickers but, bless her, drops the subject in favour of shaping the now-cooled rice.

Zenitsu exhales slowly, shoulders relaxing. He... wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about that. Or even think about it. (How the hell did she even-?)

They were all just starting to settle into normal life—to figure out how to exist in the after. It wasn’t the right time.

…Not that he had any idea when the right time even would be. Or if there ever would be.

But why be bothered with it anyway? As Nezuko said—things were good right now. And he wouldn’t ruin that. Wouldn’t be ungrateful.

( And he would keep telling himself that until it felt true. )

Even if, sometimes, he was hit with an unbearable longing for more.

Even if, sometimes, what he had didn’t feel like enough.

He exhales, shaking it off.

Right.

The stew. Dinner.

He had a job to do.

Chapter Text

For the past few… months? Yeah. Yeah, months.

It had been months since the final fight—since the Demon Slayer Corps disbanded. (He mostly knew this because of the change in seasons.)

And in that time, Inosuke had noticed something about himself. Something that never really seemed relevant before now.

He was BAD at falling asleep. And it was starting to piss him off.

Each night, near sleepless, restless, frustrating. Most of the time, he wouldn’t fall asleep until dawn. And then? He’d wake up somewhere around noon, maybe even later—unless someone woke him. And even when they did, it was a pain in the ass.

Someone would shake him, yell at him, whatever. He’d grumble, tell them yeah, yeah, he was awake already—

And then immediately roll over and fall back asleep.

It wasn’t like he was thinking about anything important at night. Hell, he barely thought at all while he lay awake in the dark. He’d just stare at the ceiling, hyper-aware of the silence that only came with the dead of night, just listening to the others. To their smooth, even breathing, completely at ease as they slumbered on.

And he just…

Didn’t.

Didn’t understand why it was like this.

Didn’t get why people had to sleep at night and be awake during the day. Most animals weren’t like that. It was stupid.

All he knew was that he spent half the day asleep while everyone else was up and doing things, and then he was awake and doing things when they weren’t.

And that?

That was BORING.

The worst part was that, despite already being awake, he couldn’t even be useful when the others had nightmares. All he could do was watch and listen while their own dreams turned against them. There was nothing to punch or kill to make them sleep better, so what the hell was he supposed to do?

It made him feel utterly useless.

When it happened, he usually just woke someone else up to deal with it—because that was all he could think to do.

He tried, sometimes. Tried to help. Tried to copy what the others did—gentle touches, soft words.

But he was terrible at it. Clumsy. Brash. At best, his efforts were awkward. At worst, they didn’t help at all. On one particularly memorable occasion, he’d gotten so frustrated with his own inability to help that he’d just—kicked poor Tanjirou in the ribs.

“Fix him!” He’d seethed at him, meanwhile, Zenitsu had clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder and shaking with fear because he’d been dreaming of spiders. The whole thing had been a disaster.

He felt like he was failing, but at what? He didn’t even know. Which meant it just felt like he was failing at everything.

Things had been so much simpler when he’d lived alone in the wilderness. He didn’t understand why he didn’t just go back.

(That was a bitter lie. Deep down, he absolutely understood why. And he knew it.)

He just... didn’t feel like he fit in the way he was apparently expected to. Didn’t fit the way people were supposed to live. He was too wild. His priorities were too disorganized.

And he was too used to a life where it didn’t matter that he couldn’t fucking sleep at night, because staying vigilant all the time had been necessary for survival. Sometimes, when he was at his most aggravated, he wished—

He wished he’d never met them. If he’d never met them, he wouldn’t have to deal with this. Wouldn’t have to feel like this. Wouldn’t have to try to shove himself into a world that didn’t fit him.

But the second the thought crossed his mind, a big, empty pit opened in his stomach, and tried to swallow him whole. His chest tightened. His skin prickled. And suddenly, he just felt awful.

Sick.

It wasn’t their fault. It never had been.

With a furious growl, Inosuke roughly dragged his hands over his face and kicked off his duvet.

This? This was STUPID .

Fine. Fine. He’d just go run around outside for a few hours until he was tired enough to pass out.

-I!A!O-

Somewhere around midday, Inosuke feels a hand gently shaking his shoulder. Which is weird, because last he checked, he was climbing a tree.

“-suke. Hey, Inosuke, come on, time to wake up.”

He grumbles, swats the hand away, and rolls over onto his side—except, right, he’s definitely still in the tree. He jerks awake just in time to grab the trunk before he can tumble off the branch he’d been sprawled out on.

Cracking open his eyes, he spots Tanjirou balancing on a branch just below him.

“Hah? …Tanjirou? What the hell are you doing up here?” Inosuke mumbles groggily.

“Looking for you. What are you doing up here?” Tanjirou shot back with a curious tilt of the head, an amused half-smile pulling at his lips as he watched Inosuke expectantly.

“Sleeping. Duh.”

Tanjirou blinks. “...Why in a tree?”

“Because—!” Inosuke starts, but whatever argument was about to fly out of his mouth immediately dies. His brain completely blanks. He scowls, searching for something—anything—to justify himself, but nothing comes.

They just stare at each other for a full minute or two.

“...Okay?” Tanjirou offers eventually.

“Yeah!” Inosuke declares, as if that explains everything.

Tanjirou exhales, then jumps to carefully perch himself on the same branch. Inosuke scoots over to make space for him, watching warily.

“Listen…” Tanjirou starts, voice careful. “Are you alright? It’s just—I mean, we’ve all noticed you’ve been having trouble sleeping lately.”

He gives Inosuke that look. The one that says ‘I’m not letting this go until you talk about it’. Inosuke’s stomach twists. He hates that look.

“What are you talking about? I was sleeping just now!”

“Inosuke…” Tanjirou sighs, the kind of sigh that says ‘I know you’re about to be difficult, but I’m in this for the long haul.’

“I’m fine! Really! It’s just—" Inosuke grits his teeth. "Sleeping is hard, alright? I’m trying.”

“I never said you weren’t.”

“But it feels like I’m not!” Inosuke snaps. “If I was actually trying, I’d be able to sleep at night, right? But I am and I can’t! It’s—it’s boring, and it pisses me off!” Frustration spikes through his veins, and he slams his fist against the tree trunk.

Tanjirou watches him for a moment, then nods. “I see. That must be frustrating. Feeling that restless, I mean.”

Inosuke exhales hard through his nose. “I don’t get why though.”

“You’re not the only one,” Tanjirou says gently. “The rest of us feel it, too. I think… we’re just not used to quiet. We spent years hunting demons, always looking over our shoulders, always ready to fight. And now? There’s nothing. No danger, no reason to stay on edge. But our bodies just haven’t caught up yet.”

Inosuke scowls. “But why am I worse?”

“Because you’re Inosuke,” Tanjirou snorts, nudging him with his shoulder. “You’ve never lived a quiet life. It makes sense that it’d be harder for you to adjust. Just… try to be a little more patient with yourself, alright?”

Inosuke has no idea how to respond to that. So, for once, he doesn’t. He just sits and stews.

It does make sense, in a way. He has too much energy and nowhere to put it. Sure, he trains—he loves fighting—but there’s no goal anymore. No demons to hunt. No enemies to defeat. No one left to prove himself to. He still pushes himself, still goes through the motions, but… for what? Just to do something? The thought pisses him off, but not as much as it should.

And that’s what unsettles him the most.

Tanjirou slings an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a casual side-hug. “Hey,” he says, voice warm and easy. “I’m proud of you for trying.”

Something flips in Inosuke’s stomach. His chest tightens. The traitorous bastard of a heart inside him squeezes.

SERIOUSLY? Proud of him? For what? For this?

What the hell has he even been doing? Running around like some kind of lost animal? Feeling sorry for himself? Over what? A little trouble sleeping?

Pathetic.

He’s Inosuke Hashibira, damn it. King of the mountain.

Inosuke aggressively shrugs off the hug and grabs Tanjirou by the shoulders, shaking him with wild, reckless energy. “Listen up, Tanjirou! You can take all that pride and shove it somewhere for later, ‘cause I’ll show you! I’ll be the most well-adjusted person you’ve ever seen, EVER! I’ll be so well-adjusted, you’ll keel over and DIE FROM PRIDE, you hear me?!”

“Inosuke, wha—yeah, I hear you, I hear you! Just—wait—SHIT!”

Gravity wins.

They plummet off the branch, Inosuke absolutely howling with laughter beneath his boar mask as he wraps himself around Tanjirou and twists in mid-air, making sure he hits the ground first. They crash down with a solid THUNK, Tanjirou landing hard on top of him, knocking the air straight from Inosuke’s lungs.

Neither of them move.

“…You okay?” Tanjirou asks, voice muffled against Inosuke’s chest.

“Didn’t hurt,” Inosuke wheezes.

Tanjirou just starts laughing. Loud, unrestrained, and real. “Yeah. That’s more like you.”

Tanjirou pushes himself up on his elbows, still grinning so wide it practically glows.

The sunlight catches on his face, cheeks flushed, his palm lifting almost instinctively, thumb brushing over Inosuke’s bare jaw – oh, his mask had fallen off - fingers lingering just beneath his ear. His eyes flick down—just for a split second—before he blinks and suddenly pulls away.

Standing up quickly, Tanjirou clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “Ah—we, uh… we actually went looking for you to come eat lunch.”

Inosuke immediately bolts upright. “WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST SAY SO?!”

Mask back on. Moment obliterated.

Before Tanjirou can react, Inosuke grabs his wrist and sprints toward the house, towing him behind like a man on a mission.

Chapter Text

“I can practically hear you thinking over there, you know,” Zenitsu commented, vigorously scrubbing at a particularly stubborn, caked-in patch of dirt on one of Inosuke’s pants. He’d complained about Inosuke’s dreadful habit of rolling in the mud multiple times before - he'd done it again just now - specifically because it made laundry day absolute hell and someone else always ended up having to clean up after him.

You could take the boy out of the wild, but you could never take the wild out of the boy, apparently.

“With your hearing I really wouldn’t be surprised if you actually could,” Tanjirou snorted, opting to take a more delicate approach with one of Nezuko's kimonos.

“Uh-huh. What’s on your mind?” Zenitsu shot him a pointed look before going back to his eternal laundry war. “You’ve been so spaced-out lately.”

Tanjirou hesitated. Was it that obvious?

…Yeah. Yeah, maybe it was.

He’d been stuck in his own head for days, chasing the same thoughts in circles. So maybe—maybe it was fine to talk about it? Zenitsu did have more experience with this kind of thing. Probably. And it’s not like Tanjirou had to go into details or anything. Just… get some insight.

But where to start?

Zenitsu sighed dramatically. “C’mon, man. What’s going on behind that big-ass forehead of yours?” He shot him a grin, open and easy.

Tanjirou swallowed. Alright. Here goes.

“I, uhm.” He exhaled. “I think I might have a crush on someone?”

Zenitsu went very still. No dramatic reaction, no exaggerated shriek—just a blank expression.

Too blank.

Slowly, he turned to stare at his hands in the laundry basin, fingers tightening around the fabric.

Tanjirou scented the air—instinctive, searching.

FEAR.

Sharp and fleeting, but there.

His lips parted to ask, but before he could get a word out, Zenitsu abruptly went back to scrubbing at a stain that absolutely did not exist anymore.

“You…” Zenitsu started, voice slow, deliberate. “You think you have a crush on someone?”

“Uh… yeah.” Tanjirou shifted. “I don’t really know. I’ve... never actually—this is sort of the first time?”

“Oh. Wow.” Zenitsu’s tone was almost flat. “First ever crush, huh?” He wrung out the fabric—too hard—before plunging it back into the water. “Congratulations on the milestone.”

Tanjirou frowned slightly. But before he could respond—

“You gonna do anything about it, or…?”

“I’m… not sure.” The more he talked, the less sure he felt. “I don’t think so. No.”

“Why not? First confession jitters?”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Not right now.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just… it’s new,” Tanjirou admitted. “I haven’t even fully processed my own feelings yet. It just seems like I’d ruin what’s already there with my own uncertainty, is all.”

Zenitsu’s expression twisted—like he’d just bitten into a lemon.

Something bitter drifted through the air.

For a second, Tanjirou thought that would be the end of it.

He was very wrong.

“It’s Inosuke, isn’t it.”

Tanjirou’s heart stopped dead. For a brief, wild second, he had the urge to deny everything. But he hated lying. And besides, he was absolute shit at it. So he didn’t.

“…How did you…?”

Zenitsu let out a harsh, humourless laugh. “I saw you two after you fell out of that tree a few days ago. And you’ve been quiet ever since. Plus, I can literally hear heartbeats. There’s no way I wouldn’t have noticed, even if you didn’t just tell me.”

Tanjirou felt something heavy sink in his stomach. The weight of it made him almost nauseous.

“Zenitsu, do you…” He hesitated. “Is that a problem for you?”

Zenitsu sighed harshly through his nose. “I think we’re way past the point where it would matter even if it was.” He shook his head. “But no, I don’t have a problem with you liking another boy. And I sincerely doubt Inosuke would either.”

A beat.

“I’m happy for you. Really.”

Tanjirou frowned slightly. “You don’t smell particularly happy to me.”

Zenitsu barked a laugh, sharp and brittle. “Hah! Wow! One of you acts like a wild animal, and the other has the olfactory senses to match! What a pair. It’s like you two were made for each other.”

The words stung more than they should have.

Tanjirou opened his mouth, but Zenitsu was already exhaling, rubbing his face like he was exhausted.

“Look.” His voice was flatter now, worn down. “This has nothing to do with you being into guys. Or with your sexual awakening apparently being with Inosuke of all people.” His mouth twisted, like he was trying not to laugh bitterly. “He is unfairly pretty, though, so I do get it.”

Tanjirou blinked. “Zenitsu, if—”

“If I’m not thrilled,” Zenitsu cut him off, tone SHARP, “that’s my problem. Not yours.”

Tanjirou hesitated. “But—”

“I said don’t worry about it!” Zenitsu snapped, voice suddenly too loud, too raw.

He slammed Inosuke’s pants into an empty basin with way too much force, then grabbed the next thing to wash like it had personally offended him.

“I’m happy for you. Congratulations.” He grit his teeth. “You should just go tell him.” His hands were shaking.

Tanjirou opened his mouth again, but Zenitsu had already turned away.

“I’m done talking now.”

The rest of the laundry was finished in total, SUFFOCATING silence.

And the second it was done, Zenitsu stood, turned, and walked straight into the woods without a single glance back.

He never once, in the entire last part of the conversation, even attempted to glance Tanjirou’s way.

-I!A!O!-

All Zenitsu could hear was his own ragged, broken breaths.

It sounded like he was trying to scream—except his lungs couldn’t get enough air to go through with it. His chest hitched, shuddered, collapsed in on itself. He couldn’t see through the hot, blinding tears streaming down his face, dripping past his lips, burning his throat.

But he kept walking. Stumbling.

He just needed to get away. Away from the house, away from them, away from the feeling that he was about to burst apart at the seams.

His body betrayed him first.

His knees buckled, sending him crashing against the trunk of a nearby tree. His arms curled around his head instinctively, like if he could just make himself small enough, he could disappear entirely. He buried his face against his arms, breath coming in short, sharp gasps that barely scraped the inside of his throat.

His chest was too tight. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Typical, wasn’t it?

Of course. Of fucking course.

He was never good enough. Not for them. Not for anyone.

His two best friends were going to run off into the soft, pastel pink sunset together—hand in hand, blissfully happy. Without him.

And why wouldn’t they? What the hell had he ever been to either of them, except some pathetic, clingy, desperate extra piece that they just happened to tolerate?

He was a BURDEN. A joke. A weak, snivelling fool who tricked himself into thinking he could ever have more.

Serves him right.

Serves him right for being stupid enough—selfish enough—to want both of them.

His stomach curled in on itself.

God. What a fucking idiot.

He couldn't even be a good enough friend to just be happy for them. No, he had to be jealous, too. Because that’s just who he was, wasn’t it?

No wonder everyone left him behind.

FUCK.

How was he ever supposed to face them again after that? After this pathetic, humiliating meltdown?

He couldn’t. He couldn’t bear it.

He’d have to leave. Disappear. Run off to some far-away village—or maybe the city, where the streets were so packed with strangers that even if they did look for him, they’d never find him. He’d change his name. His hair. He’d find some poor, gullible soul and trick them into believing he was worth something.

Zenitsu growled under his breath, scrubbing furiously at his tear-streaked face with the sleeves of his haori.

…Who was he kidding?

There was no way he’d make it out on his own. He’d never been built for solitude. And even if he did run, he’d still be the same needy, desperate, useless mess of a person. He’d fall in with the wrong people. Get taken advantage of. End up buried in debt again with no one to bail him out.

Or worse.

Because the truth was, he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

And worse than that?

He didn’t have anywhere else he wanted to go.

What he wanted—what he couldn’t stop himself from wanting—

He wanted Tanjirou to hold him the way only an eldest sibling could. The way that made you believe, even if you had no reason to. He wanted him to say it was going to be okay, and for it to somehow be true just because Tanjirou Kamado said it was.

He wanted Inosuke to call him a weakling, to mock him for crying—while still staying close. While trying, in his own clumsy, reckless way, to make it better.

He wanted both of them.

He wanted too much.

Zenitsu let out a harsh, bitter laugh.

Right. As if that was EVER going to happen.

-I!A!O!-

Something was wrong.

Inosuke could feel it—like a heavy, sticky thing curling under his skin.

When he left that morning to do his usual bullshit in the woods, everything had been fine. Because it was fine. But now?

Now, something was off.

Nobody yelled at him when he got back absolutely caked in mud. Nobody even flinched when he tracked it through the house.

And Zenitsu?

Zenitsu got home after Inosuke did. Weird. Normally, he’d be helping Nezuko with dinner, but by the time he finally walked in, the food was already on the table.

And he wouldn’t look at anyone.

Tanjirou kept glancing at him, but the second Zenitsu noticed, his eyes would jerk away, like he wasn’t even allowed to look.

Nezuko, sitting between them, looked like she had second-hand heartbreak. Her eyes kept bouncing between them like a spectator at a death match.

Inosuke shot her a confused look. What the hell is happening?

She just sighed, shook her head, and shrugged.

The silence at the dinner table was possibly the LOUDEST thing Inosuke had ever heard.

And the tension?

It wrapped around his skin, thick and suffocating.

Whenever he said anything, he got short, empty replies. Dismissive little nods. Barely-there hums. Like nobody wanted to engage. Like he was just taking up space.

It was starting to piss him off.

Then, suddenly, it clicked.

OOOH.

“Is this because of the mud?” he blurted out, far too loudly. “’Cause I cleaned that! And no one even had to tell me to this time!”

Everyone at the table turned to stare at him.

Inosuke grinned. Yes. He’d figured it out. It was all the mud’s fault.

Tanjirou’s expression was pained. Zenitsu scowled so hard at his plate, it looked like he was trying to set it on fire with sheer willpower.

“It’s… not about the mud, Inosuke. But thank you,” Tanjirou said eventually.

Well, now Inosuke was at a complete loss.

“So what the fuck is going on, then?” he demanded. “You’re all acting like someone died—but if that was it, you’d all be blubbering like babies. Tell me what’s wrong!”

“Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine,” Zenitsu muttered flatly, jabbing at his food with his chopsticks. He didn’t take a single bite.

Inosuke narrowed his eyes. Wasteful.

“Liar!” he barked, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re lying!”

“Butt out, Inosuke!”

“Zenitsu, please,” Tanjirou pleaded, voice tight.

“It’s fine! Everything’s fine!” Zenitsu repeated, more forceful, more brittle, like if he just said it enough times, it would become true.

“Stop lying!”

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Zenitsu snapped. “I don’t want to talk about it!”

Hah! Inosuke’s grin was sharp, triumphant. “See?! Something is wrong! You just admitted it!”

Zenitsu rolled his eyes so hard, Inosuke half-expected them to pop right out of his skull. Then, with slow, deliberate mockery, he clapped his hands together.

“Oh, bravo!” he sneered. “I guess even hopeless halfwits stumble onto the truth every other blue moon.”

The words hit. It felt like being slapped across the face and spat on.

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Tanjirou’s voice snapped like a whip. “He’s just trying to help!”

Zenitsu shot up from his seat, slamming his palms on the table. “Fine! Gang up on me, then! See if I care!” His voice cracked, sharp and bitter. “I hope you and your BOYFRIEND have a grand life together!”

…Hah?

Boyfriend?

When did Tanjirou get one of those?

…And why did it feel like Inosuke’s throat was closing up?

“Zenitsu, get back here!” Tanjirou yelled after him, but Zenitsu didn’t stop.

“ZENITSU!”

“OUT! I’M GOING OUT!” Zenitsu shouted over his shoulder—then he was gone, swallowed by the darkness.

Inosuke turned to Tanjirou, because apparently he had some idea what the hell was going on, but—

Tanjirou just… dropped his head into his hand. Like he physically couldn’t hold it up anymore. Nezuko slid a hand over his back, soothing, but it barely seemed to register.

Inosuke felt cold.

“…I’m sleeping outside,” he muttered.

No one responded.

He stood, stiff and slow, then turned on his heel and walked out—deliberately in the opposite direction Zenitsu had gone.

He glanced back once.

Tanjirou hadn’t even looked up.

The sliding door SLAMMED shut behind him.

Chapter Text

Zenitsu didn’t come back the next day. Or the next. Or the next. Or the next.

Sure, Inosuke was only around for meals, himself, but even he could tell.

He’d pestered Tanjirou about it—again and again and again. Begged, demanded, roared for an explanation. But every time, Tanjirou would start, fumble, stop, try again—only to choke on his own words, eyes darting away like the answer was something he couldn’t even look at. Over and over, until he looked so embarrassed and frustrated that it was like he was itching to crawl out of his own skin.

And every time Inosuke said, “Fine. Then I’ll go find Zenitsu myself and make him talk”, Tanjirou shut him down. Hard. Not harshly, but pleading in a way that Inosuke no longer knew how to refuse after all this time.

"He just needs space, leave him be for now. Please Inosuke? "

Like that explained anything.

Inosuke just. Didn’t. Understand.

He didn’t understand what caused that fight. He didn’t understand why Zenitsu hadn’t come back in days. He didn’t understand why Tanjirou was so quiet about it.

And worst of all—he didn’t understand himself in this situation.

But he was trying. So hard.

There were too many feelings. Too tangled together—like a knot he didn’t even know how to start undoing. And it wasn’t fair. They knew he wasn’t good at this. He didn’t like thinking, and yet here he was, doing it for them—trying to not somehow make things even worse.

And he couldn’t even rely on them to help.

Because they wouldn’t.

He had to figure it out alone.

He was no stranger to struggling, but learning Beast Breathing? That had been easy. His body knew what to do. His instincts knew what to do.

This?

This was a goddamn nightmare.

Was it—was this because of HIM? Was that why no one was telling him anything? Was this whole mess somehow his fault? But he hadn’t even done anything! He’d been good! So what the hell was there to fight about?!

…Nah. It couldn’t be that.

Or was it about that apparent boyfriend Tanjirou allegedly had? Because that would be just great. What, Tanjirou could get a boyfriend, but he couldn’t even bother to tell Inosuke about it? They were friends, weren’t they? And friends told each other that kind of thing, right?! ... Was that why Zenitsu was so mad...? Seemed kind of like... a small thing, for that kind of reaction, though. But on the other hand this IS Zenitsu.

When he’d asked, Tanjirou had vehemently denied it, but then why the hell did Zenitsu yell about it like it was true?!

Fucking hypocrites, the both of them. Always telling him to use his words, to ‘talk about it’ if something was bothering him. But ohhh, when it was their turn? Silence.

Crickets.

Cowards.

Someone had to do something before they just—just never spoke again. And apparently, that someone was him.

Which was BULLSHIT. Because out of the three of them, Inosuke was by far the least qualified to fix anything, and they knew that.

Ugh! This gave him such a headache!

Fuck giving Zenitsu space.

He was fixing this.

Right. Now.

-I!A!O!-

Zenitsu had fucked up before. Plenty of times.

But this?

This was a whole new level of disaster.

Why? Why? Why the hell did he do that? They hated him now. He knew they did. He could feel it, down to his bones. He’d taken a perfectly salvageable situation and shredded it, set it on fire, then pissed on the ashes. Because he was an emotional, impulsive, fucking idiot who couldn’t keep his shit together.

He’d doomed himself.

And he’d thought he was a fool before.

He was just lucky he’d had some money on him when he stormed out. Otherwise, he’d have been left to fend for himself in the wild like some kind of stray dog.

He hadn’t left his room at the inn for days, content to rot in bed and wallow in his own misery like he deserved.

It had been storming since nightfall. The wind howled. The thunder rumbled. The rain lashed against the window in waves. He thought that was fitting.

He was a disaster.

Of course the sky would be too.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop replaying that moment, again and again, like some sick punishment he needed to endure.

Tanjirou had trusted him. Opened up to him. Been vulnerable with him.

And what did Zenitsu do?

He attacked him for it. Just lashed out like some wounded animal. No wonder Tanjirou hadn’t come after him.

Hell, Tanjirou probably thought he was homophobic now. Which was just… painfully ironic, considering Zenitsu fell for literally anyone who so much as breathed kindly in his direction.

And Inosuke?

God, Inosuke.

He’d actually tried. Tried to fix things, tried to help. And Zenitsu had ripped into him for it.

For what?

For caring?

God. He was unbearable. Selfish. A coward. He could be a real piece of shit when he wanted to be.

They were better off without him.

He knew that.

They deserved better. They deserved someone who wouldn’t lash out like a cornered animal. Someone who wasn’t… this.

He should just go. Just... disappear. Just stop making everything worse.

The window rattled again, loud enough to make him wonder if the wind was about to blow it open. He sighed, rolled over—

—and immediately made eye contact with a fucking boar mask peeking over the windowsill.

He shrieked so loud, the thunder outside probably got jealous.

“INOSUKE?!”

“Found you.”

-I!A!O!-

Tanjirou stared into his cup of tea like it was supposed to explain things to him.

It didn’t.

Obviously.

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t figure out what Zenitsu had needed from him in that conversation that he hadn’t given.

Was it really wrong that he liked Inosuke? Had he crossed some invisible line? Had he said too much? Not enough?

He hadn’t smelled disgust. But you didn’t have to be disgusted to disapprove of something.

And Zenitsu had been scared. Bitter. Like... like—

Oh.

OH.

JEALOUSY.

…Was he jealous?

No. Noooo. That couldn’t be it. Zenitsu liked Nezuko. Didn’t he?

Wait. Wait. Hold on.

When did Zenitsu stop throwing himself at Nezuko?

Now that Tanjirou thought about it, his antics had died down considerably over the past few months. He still trailed after her, sure, but at some point, his outright attempts to woo her had just… stopped.

Tanjirou hadn’t even noticed.

But… Zenitsu didn’t act that way toward Inosuke either.

What, was he shy all of a sudden? Or—maybe, like Tanjirou, he didn’t want to complicate things?

Tanjirou’s head spun. No, wait—this made sense. But also didn’t. But also did?!

He was pretty sure he shouldn’t assume he knew what someone else was thinking or feeling-

-His existential crisis was violently interrupted by a scream.

He shot up in he seat and blinked, snapped his head toward the open door to watch the tree line.

Something moved.

No—something was coming. Fast.

A shape barrelled into view—bouncing, flailing, shrieking.

Tanjirou’s brain barely had time to process what he was seeing before reality smacked him in the face.

It was Inosuke.

Sprinting.

At full speed.

With Zenitsu slung over his shoulder like a screaming, flailing, furious sack of rice.

“INOSUKE, PUT ME DOWN! I SWEAR TO GOD—ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?! HEY! HEY, YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE—STOP IGNORING ME!!”

Tanjirou blinked. “…you’ve got to be kidding.”

Before he could process what was happening, Inosuke zoomed past him at full speed, through the entryway, and unceremoniously dumped Zenitsu onto the floor.

Then, before Tanjirou could even think about moving, Inosuke grabbed him by the back of his haori and bodily dragged him inside like a misbehaving kitten.

He hit the floor hard, landing flat on his ass with a graceless, stunned ‘oof!’ right next to Zenitsu.

“STOP BEING STUPID!” Inosuke roared, throwing his arms out like a furious god of war. “Make up! Fight to the death! Beat the shit out of each other—I don’t care! Just. FIX IT!”

And with that, he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him with the finality of a judge’s gavel.

Silence.

An awful, suffocating silence.

The space where Inosuke had just stood felt like it still echoed with his sheer force of will.

Zenitsu was frozen.

Tanjirou stared at the floor, lips parted like he wanted to say something, but his brain had yet to process whatever the hell just happened.

After a long moment, he sighed, pushing himself up and returning to his tea like this was fine. Everything was perfectly fine.

“I told him not to do this,” Tanjirou sighed into the quiet of the night as he sat down.

Zenitsu tensed. Shoulders pulling up all the way to his ears.

Tanjirou could smell the anxiety radiating off of him, and, like it was contagious, his own nerves started to twist and tangle.

“He listened for a few days, though.” He tried to sound light-hearted. Like none of this was as unbearably awkward as it felt. “Can’t say I expected him to listen forever. You know how he is when he gets frustrated.”

Zenitsu still didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t even turn away from the door.

Tanjirou started picking at his nails.

The silence stretched on. Too long. The air was thick, stifling, pressing down like a weight.

Neither of them spoke for well over a minute.

Eventually, Zenitsu’s shoulders collapsed in on themselves, his whole body folding like something inside him had just… snapped.

He whispered something so softly, Tanjirou barely caught it.

“ Pardon ?”

Zenitsu finally turned toward him—face wet, nose already running—his quiet tears built into something uglier, chest hitching, throat closing, until suddenly he was bowing so low his forehead pressed against the floor.

“I—I didn’t mean to treat you like that!” he sobbed, the words tripping over themselves, cracking apart in his throat. “I was just—I got scared! I thought you two would get so close there wouldn’t be any room left for me! And then—then I got angry at myself for being so selfish, and I—” his voice broke, “I took it out on both of you! I didn’t want to end up alone, so I pushed you away instead and I’m so, so sorry! Please forgive me!”

Tanjirou just… stared. While Zenitsu continued to cry into the tatami mats and babble apologies like he’d never get the chance again.

For some reason, he’d expected getting him to talk would be… harder.

But looking at him now—completely unravelling, dissolving—maybe Zenitsu had just been waiting for someone to force the words out of him.

“Zenitsu.” Tanjirou’s voice was soft. “Lift your head.”

Zenitsu shook his head violently, curling into himself, his whole body shuddering. His breaths were turning sharp, too sharp, tripping over each other—panicked and shallow, like his lungs had forgotten how to work.

Tanjirou moved without thinking.

Slowly, carefully, he inched across the room—kneeling in front of him like he was approaching something fragile, something that might break apart if he moved too fast.

Gently, he ran a hand through messy, golden hair, smoothing it down, fingers ghosting over his scalp. Soft. Soothing. Like he was afraid Zenitsu might shatter under too much pressure.

“Look at me?” he pleaded, voice just as gentle. “Please?”

Zenitsu swallowed hard, visibly trying to calm himself. His body was trembling with the effort. It took him a moment—several, actually—before he could make himself lift his head, cautious and hesitant, like he was afraid of what he’d see.

It took him another full minute before he could actually meet Tanjirou’s eyes.

The hand in his hair drifted lower, fingers curling under his chin—not harsh, just firm. Just there. Making sure he couldn’t slip away into doubt again.

“Listen to me,” Tanjirou said, voice steady. “None of us—not ever—would leave you behind. Not me. Not Inosuke. Not Nezuko. That’s not how family works.”

Zenitsu hiccuped, fresh tears spilling over and rolling down his cheeks. “But—” his breath hitched. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

Tanjirou’s voice was quiet but firm. “Just because it was a choice doesn’t make it any less true.” Tanjirou took a slow breath. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t just as important. But I did. And I hate that I did.”

Zenitsu let out a broken, wrecked sound—somewhere between a sob and a wail—and threw himself at Tanjirou, practically climbing into his lap as his arms latched around him in a desperate, shaking vice grip.

Tanjirou held him back just as tightly.

“You mean it?” he whimpered.

“Of course I mean it. Why would I ever lie about that?”

“I was so scared you guys hated me.”

“No one hates you, Zenitsu.” Tanjirou squeezed him tighter. “Not now. Not ever.” His own eyes were starting to sting, and he didn’t fight it. “We weren’t angry, Zenitsu. We were just worried. We missed you.”

“You…” His voice cracked. “You really did?”

“Yeah, we did.” Tanjirou’s voice was soft, steady. “It didn’t feel right without you. Too quiet.”

“I doubt it,” Zenitsu muttered, wiping his nose. “Not with Inosuke around.”

“Are you kidding? He’s been unbearable.” Tanjirou huffed. “He keeps trying to pick fights with Nezuko, and she just stares at him until he gives up. I think he’s going insane without someone to actually yell back.”

Zenitsu choked out a laugh—wet and broken, but real. He pulled back, scrubbing furiously at his face like he could wipe away the evidence of how wrecked he’d just been.

Tanjirou kept him close, squeezing his shoulder.

“I should probably talk to him, too.” Zenitsu sighed.

“Yeah, we both should.” Tanjirou nodded. “He doesn’t like to show it, but we really hurt his feelings.”

“Yeah. I was a real jerk to him.”

Tanjirou tilted his head, studying him. “Are you feeling better now?”

Zenitsu exhaled. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He smiled.

Not a nervous one. Not forced.

A real, genuine smile—the first one in what felt like forever. The sweet scent of relief filled the air. For the first time in almost a week, the weight in Tanjirou’s chest finally eased.

Chapter Text

Inosuke glared holes into the closed door from where he sat, with his arms crossed, taking shelter under a nearby tree.

The rain had dulled to a soft pitter-patter, barely more than a drizzle now, and his bouncing leg made a wet, slapping sound against the soaked earth.

Realistically, it had probably only been just under twenty minutes.

Emotionally? A goddamn eternity.

Every muscle in his body screamed at him to get up and move. To run, to climb, to do literally anything else besides sit here like a rock. He was going to combust.

He threw his head back with a groan, smacking it against the tree trunk just to give himself something to do. His foot hit the ground even faster, mud splattering up his leg.

How much longer was this supposed to take?

The urge to run off and do something else, anything else, was so strong. He was bored out of his mind. But this was important, and he didn’t want to get too distracted and miss it when they finally called him. Because they would call him.... eventually.

Right?

He wondered—just for a second—what it would be like to have Zenitsu’s stupid, freaky hearing. He could just listen in, figure out what they were talking about, how it was going—

But even he knew that would be cheating.

That would be an invasion of privacy, and for some reason, this was something they didn’t want him to know about.

The curiosity gnawed at him, burrowed under his skin like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He hated it.

He didn’t get it. He really didn’t.

But, at the end of the day, he just wanted things to go back to normal. To how they were before all this weird, tense silence. That’s why he forced the issue.

That’s why he was still sitting here now, waiting. Because, after all, this fucking sucked.

And even if the whole thing technically didn’t involve him—It felt like it did. And that was enough.

But there was a voice in the back of his head. Small, nagging, impossible to ignore.

What if this was about him? He’d want to know, right? Even if it was bad? Even if it was his fault? How could he fix it if he didn’t even know what he’d done wrong? What if it was so bad it made his friends fight about it?

Inosuke physically fought that voice in his head. Grabbed it by the throat, slammed it into the ground, and beat it into a pulp with his bare fists.

Stupid voice. Thinking was for losers.

They’d tell him if he did something wrong. They always did. And they wouldn’t fight about it, either.

Tanjirou would gently explain what he was doing wrong—like he was some stupid toddler—and Zenitsu would yell at him first, sure, but then he’d patiently correct the behaviour.

So, according to Inosuke’s flawless, perfect logic, there was no problem. None at all. He was golden.

He grumbled, shifting where he sat, then attempted to physically punch the thoughts out of his own skull—slamming his fists against his mask like sheer force could crush the over-thinking out of him.

And just as he was about to completely lose his mind—

The door slid open.

Finally.

After an entire eternity, Tanjirou poked his head out, spotted him, and waved him over.

Standing up with a dramatic stretch like he’d been sitting there for years, Inosuke made his way over to the house. “Took your damn time,” he grumbled.

Tanjirou scratched at the back of his head, offering a small, apologetic smile.

“Yeah, sorry about that. You’re soaked —you must be freezing . Come in, warm up. I’ll get you a towel.”

“No shit? It’s fucking raining outside,” Inosuke snorted, but he took the towel gratefully when Tanjirou offered it. He scrubbed roughly at his mask before taking it off and half-drying the rest of himself, shaking out his hair like a wet dog.

The room smelled like tea and damp fabric.

He looked around and saw Zenitsu sat at the table, his own towel slung tightly over his shoulders like a blanket (Inosuke had completely forgotten that he would have gotten wet in the downpour as well and felt a little guilty. What if he ended up getting sick?), clutching a hot cup of tea and staring into the middle distance absently. His eyes were red and swollen; he sniffled quietly. Inosuke hoped that wasn’t a sign that things had gone badly.

Tanjirou sat across from Zenitsu, nodding toward the open seat as he poured a third cup of tea.

“You know you didn’t have to sit out there in the rain, right?” Tanjirou said, voice light but firm. “There was plenty of space inside.”

Inosuke ignored the comment, throwing his towel onto the tatami mat before dropping into the empty seat. Tanjirou placed a steaming cup in front of him, and Inosuke immediately wrapped his cold hands around it, soaking up the heat.

Yeah. He could’ve stayed.

But would they really have talked if he had?

Would Zenitsu have opened up like he clearly needed to?

…No.

Some things were easier to say when the right people weren’t in the room.

So instead of running his mouth like he desperately wanted to, Inosuke stayed silent.

He waited.

And for once, he tried to be as patient with them as they so often were with him.

“I’m sorry I called you a hopeless halfwit.” Zenitsu turned toward Inosuke fully, looking him directly in the eyes—like he needed him to understand. “I don’t actually think you’re hopeless. Or stupid. I was just being mean. And I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I know.” Inosuke shrugged and waved him off. “I don’t care about that. I care that you guys weren’t talking to me.”

Zenitsu exhaled sharply, his fingers curling against his cup. “Tanjirou didn’t know why I was upset, either. So he couldn’t possibly explain what was going on. Please don’t be mad at him too.”

“I still should’ve tried harder,” Tanjirou muttered into his tea. “I should’ve realized you were hurting sooner.”

Inosuke scowled. “Yeah, okay, sure, whatever. That still doesn’t explain anything.”

Zenitsu sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

“You guys didn’t really do anything,” he admitted. “Tanjirou and I were just talking. He said something completely innocent, and I took it the wrong way. Then I completely blew it out of proportion and… I… I got insecure. I thought—” he swallowed hard. “I thought you guys were gonna get sick of me. Eventually. I thought I was just… extra.”

Silence.

Then—

“Wait.” Inosuke frowned. “Was this about… his boyfriend...?”

Tanjirou choked on air. He sputtered so hard he nearly spilled his tea, frantically waving his hands in front of his face, ears burning red. “I— I told you a million times already— I don’t have one!!”

“But—!”

“No, dumbass. I was saying you were the boyfriend.” Zenitsu hastily corrected.

Inosuke blinked. Froze. Tilted his head like a confused puppy.

Him? Someone’s boyfriend?

That sounded fake. That sounded like some made-up bullshit.

Weirdly… he didn’t hate the idea.

But as far as he knew, you had to actually like someone in a certain way for that. Did he? How the hell was he supposed to know? Was there a test for this? A checklist?? Was he supposed to just guess?! “Hah?! But we’re not—we don’t—”

“I know, Inosuke.” Zenitsu groaned, rubbing his temples. “It was an insult, not a damn marital suggestion.”

Oh.

OH.

…Yeah, that checked out.

Maybe.

Inosuke scratched at his head, like that would make it make more sense. “Alright. Whatever. This conversation sucks.” He shifted in his seat, fidgeting with the edges of his furs. “So… we’re good now? Things can just go back to normal?”

“Absolutely,” Zenitsu nodded.

Tanjirou let out a slow breath, shoulders finally unwinding. “Yeah. I’d say we’re all good.”

“Good. Now can we please go to sleep? ‘M tired.” Inosuke yawned so hard his jaw popped, as if to physically prove his point.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Ever the caretaker, Tanjirou got up to pull their futons from the cupboard. Because obviously if he didn’t, they were absolutely not going to do it themselves.

“Can I… have a hug?” Zenitsu asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Inosuke sighed so heavily, you’d think Zenitsu had just asked him to carry a boulder up a mountain.

But he grabbed Zenitsu anyway, arms tightening around him in a rough, bone-crushing squeeze—only to immediately sink into the touch, all the fight leaving his body at once. His shoulders sagged. His whole body exhaled.

Tanjirou, the unfortunate victim of passing by at the wrong moment, barely had time to blink before Inosuke grabbed him by the wrist and forcibly dragged him into the hug pile.

Eventually, they untangled. Their futons were rolled out, the lights were turned off, and they all crawled into their beds. But before he could fully lay down, Inosuke had an idea, and he decided would be his final thought for the evening. Maybe even for the rest of the week.

He wasn't usually the one to initiate this, and they normally only do it when someone has a nightmare, but... this sort of counted, right? They all probably needed comfort after the past few days.

He caught Tanjirou’s gaze in the dark, tilting his head meaningfully towards Zenitsu’s futon before raising an eyebrow.

Tanjirou took a second—just a second—before his mouth formed a silent ‘oh.’ Then he smiled, nodded, and moved like this was the most normal thing in the world. Because Tanjirou always understood.

Zenitsu barely had time to react before Tanjirou slid under his blanket, carefully curling against his side and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“What—?”

He didn’t get to finish, because Inosuke launched himself into the futon like a wild animal, throwing the duvet off them both and flattening Zenitsu between him and Tanjirou in one solid, inescapable movement.

Zenitsu squeaked. His pulse rabbit-fast against Inosuke’s skin.

For a second, no one moved.

And then—before Zenitsu could react, Inosuke did what came naturally: he chomped the nearest patch of skin within biting distance. Unfortunately for Zenitsu, that happened to be his jaw.

“Ow! Are you serious?! Again with this?! What is WRONG with you?!” Zenitsu complained without any real heat.

“Shut up, idiot.” Inosuke sighed, eyes already closing. “Go to sleep.”

Inosuke was out in seconds.

-I!A!O!-

Zenitsu sat on the engawa, peacefully enjoying the warm afternoon sunlight as he tuned his new shamisen. Tanjirou had gotten it for him as a peace offering a few days after they’d made up. Zenitsu insisted it was overkill, He’d been the one to start everything, after all, but still… he hadn’t exactly refused it.

It was second-hand but well-loved—clearly looked after with great care. He found himself wondering, sometimes, why the previous owner had ever given it up. Maybe they outgrew it. Maybe they couldn’t play anymore. Maybe they just wanted it to have a good home.

Either way, it was his now. And he’d take care of it like they had.

Nezuko had been forcibly kidnapped for ‘foraging’ this morning, by Inosuke, obviously. She had tried to protest—laughing, insisting she had chores to do—but Inosuke ignored her completely, hauling her off into the woods like a raccoon snatching a shiny object.

Tanjirou, ever the doting brother, had promised to handle the chores himself.

Zenitsu had offered to help.

Tanjirou had declined.

Then, after less than half an hour, he had apparently run out of things to clean and had moved on to chopping wood.

Zenitsu had offered to help again.

Tanjirou had declined again.

Zenitsu had suspicions.

Specifically, that Tanjirou was trying to prove—to himself, to them, to the gods above—that he could still go about his day-to-day life with only one fully functional arm. Whether it was sheer stubbornness or some kind of personal challenge, Zenitsu didn’t know. Maybe both.

The distant thunk of a hatchet eventually ceased. Then came the clang of wood hitting metal—probably throwing the logs into the kiln.

Then, nothing.

Footsteps approached, and Zenitsu glanced up just as Tanjirou sat down next to him, wiping sweat from his brow.

Tanjirou sat for a while.

Then, finally, he opened his mouth—

Paused.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

Paused.

Zenitsu watched, fascinated, as Tanjirou visibly psyched himself up.

Zenitsu eventually turned back to his shamisen, absently plucking at the strings to make sure they sounded right as he waited for Tanjirou to gather his thoughts.

“I want to ask you something personal .”

Zenitsu’s fingers froze.

Oh no.

“And if you’re okay with that, I need you to be completely honest with me.”

Oh no.

“Uhh…” Zenitsu hesitated, fingers stilling on the strings. “Okay? I guess?” This was already sounding suspiciously like a trap.

Tanjirou inhaled. Deeply. Like he was about to drop the single most life-altering statement of all time. Like he was about to uproot the universe itself.

Then, with the finality of a god passing judgement, he asked: “Do you... like Inosuke, too?”

Zenitsu jolted so hard he nearly threw his shamisen.

His entire body locked up, eyes bugging out, face immediately turning beet red.

“HOW— I MEAN— WAIT— WHAT — WHO SAID— WHERE DID—”

His entire nervous system was short-circuiting.

“Well, you smelled really scared. And jealous.” Tanjirou said casually. “Like, extremely jealous. And considering what we were talking about, it was the only explanation that made any sense.”

Zenitsu made a strangled noise—somewhere between a wheeze and a dying animal. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. He was malfunctioning.

“Why didn’t you just say something?” Tanjirou asked, giggling. Like this wasn’t the single worst moment of Zenitsu’s life.

Tanjirou was actively murdering him.

This was an assassination via kindness.

This was it.

Today, Zenitsu Agatsuma perished.

His heart was rattling against his ribs at terminal velocity. His lungs had fully quit their job. Surely, surely, a human heart wasn’t supposed to beat this fast and still be considered healthy. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.

It hurt. So, unfortunately, he was still alive.

Zenitsu carefully set his shamisen aside, scrubbing his hands over his face before letting them flop uselessly in his lap. “Okay. Okay, yeah, fine, whatever, you got me.” He let out a long, exhausted groan. “I like Inosuke too. Happy now?”

Tanjirou beamed. “Hey, we don’t know how Inosuke feels.” He shrugged. “Could go either way, could go no way.” Then, with a smile too sweet, too innocent, too reckless— “You should make a move.”

Zenitsu gasped. Out loud.

“What— NO WAY! YOU make a move! At least you had the guts to admit it like a normal person!!”

“NOT TO HIM!”

“AND YOU THINK I COULD?! ”

“YOU’RE BRAVE ENOUGH!!”

“SINCE WHEN?! ”

“You used to be irritatingly open about your feelings for my sister !” Tanjirou countered with a raised eyebrow.

“THAT’S DIFFERENT!” Zenitsu wailed. “Inosuke’s DIFFERENT! I’M SCARED! HE SCARES ME!!”

“Then do it scared!” Tanjirou declared, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “You’re good at that. That’s why I think you’re brave.”

Zenitsu nearly died on the spot.

“I’M NOT! I’M NOT, I’M NOT, I’M NOT!! WHAT IF HE REJECTS ME?! WHAT IF HE THINKS I’M WEIRD?! MY POOR HEART COULDN’T TAKE IT—”

“Then it’ll be fine!”

“NO, IT WOULDN’T! YOU’RE HIS FAVORITE, YOU HAVE A BETTER CHANCE—”

Tanjirou burst out laughing. Zenitsu felt his entire soul leave his body. And Tanjirou—one of his so-called best friends—had the nerve to laugh.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not true.” Tanjirou grinned. “Or did you forget all the times he bit you because he thought you were being cute?”

“HE BITES YOU TOO!!”

“He bites you more often. ”

“TANJIROUUUU, STOP IIIIIIT!!” Zenitsu groaned, throwing himself face-first into Tanjirou’s chest. “WE’LL JUST CALL IT EVEN, OKAY?!”

“Sure.” Tanjirou chuckled, ruffling his hair. “But I’m right.”

Zenitsu shoved him away with a dramatic huff. “That is SUCH an unconventional way to show affection.”

“I think it’s adorable.” Tanjirou sighed, completely lovestruck. “He’s just so unapologetically himself. No façades. No pretending. You can always tell what he’s thinking. It’s comforting.” He turned back to Zenitsu, grinning. “Kind of like you, actually. You’re a good match that way.”

Zenitsu immediately grabbed his shamisen. “I completely understand.” He plucked a few test notes, pointedly not looking at Tanjirou. “But if you say one more word, I am throwing this at your head.”

Tanjirou snorted and ignored him, instead launching into an entire monologue about all the different things they both might like about Inosuke.

Zenitsu suffered.

Chapter Text

“You should go hunt with Inosuke,” Tanjirou announced suddenly, like this was a normal thing to say.

Zenitsu visibly recoiled. His whole body rejected the statement, like Tanjirou had just suggested he go wrestle a bear for fun.

They’d all just finished eating lunch and he and Zenitsu had opted to laze around indoors in an attempt to escape the heat of the blazing summer sun, while Nezuko helped Inosuke read under the protection of a shady tree outside.

He was getting better at it  very  quickly, he could very nearly get through a fairly simple book all on his own, though with all the determined hard work he’d put into memorizing which characters meant what and in which combinations, Tanjirou couldn’t say he was particularity surprised. Often when he’d wake up in the middle of the night he’d find Inosuke still awake, silently reading by the faint, unobtrusive light of a candle. The next morning he’d be fast asleep , book still in hand.

His poor ability to write still left him frustrated, though.

But that was beside the point.

Right now? There was matchmaking to be done. Personally, Tanjirou saw the idea for what it was: an opportunity. If Zenitsu wasn’t going to make a move on his own, then Tanjirou was going to make it for him. Gently, of course. Like a very loving, very subtle shove off of a cliff.

“And why, exactly, would I do that?” Zenitsu deadpanned, gesturing to himself. “Do I look like someone who hunts? No. Because I am terrible at it.”

“Because Inosuke likes it.” Tanjirou shrugged simply. “And he likes attention. And you like Inosuke. So, put those all together and—” He gestured vaguely.

Zenitsu stared at him.

Tanjirou stared back.

Zenitsu squinted, suspicious.

Tanjirou smiled, innocent.

All Zenitsu had to do was pretend to be interested while Inosuke walked him through it, throw in a well-timed compliment, and boom. Instant success. The perfect plan. Foolproof.

(Well. Mostly foolproof, considering the people involved.)

And if making them happy meant that Tanjirou had to give up something he wanted along the way… Well.

That was just how it had to be.

“I thought I told you, I’m not making a move on him!” Zenitsu groaned quietly, dragging his hands down his face like he could physically wipe this conversation from existence. “This very much sounds like you’re giving me advice on how to make a move on him.”

“Not necessarily.” Tanjirou smiled. “Although, if you did, I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

Zenitsu squinted at him, even more suspicious. Tanjirou remained completely, infuriatingly serene.

“Oh my god.” Zenitsu sighed dramatically, exasperated, sagging into the floor. “You’re not subtle, Tanjirou.”

“I just mean—don’t you want to spend some quality time with him?” Tanjirou said smoothly. “You guys are still friends, after all.”

Zenitsu hesitated.

“If you only do things you’re good at, and never meet him where he’s comfortable, he’s going to feel left out. Neglected. Inadequate.”

Zenitsu made a strangled noise of defeat. Victory. “Yeah, okay, fair point.” A loaded pause. Then—“But hunting? Really? Tanjirou, I’m going to die out there!”

“You’re not going to die.”

“I will . I’ll trip on a branch and smash my brains in on a rock . Or fall into a river. Or both . ”

“So, ask him to teach you.” Tanjirou’s voice was warm, patient—like this was the simplest answer in the world. “You know he’d love that.”

Zenitsu hummed absently and scratched his cheek, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess I could make more of an effort.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Actually. Why don’t you come, too?”

Tanjirou blinked.

Zenitsu smirked.

Checkmate.

“If it’s just hanging out as friends, that shouldn’t be a problem for you, right?” Zenitsu said casually. “In fact, I bet he’d love it even more if we both went. More people to show off to.”

Tanjirou hesitated.

Zenitsu’s grin widened. Now this was getting interesting.

“ Can’t .” Tanjirou smiled sweetly , way too innocent. “I’m taking Nezuko to the village tomorrow. Charcoal, errands, all that.”

Which, sure, he could probably reschedule. But that would interfere with the plan.

Zenitsu opened his mouth, panic in hie eyes. Tanjirou fully steam-rolled over whatever he was about to say.

“Hey, Inosuke!” he called, all warmth and casual ease. “Zenitsu says he wants to go hunting with you tomorrow!”

A harmless little lie.

(Harmless for him, anyway.)

Zenitsu didn’t even get a chance to escape, because the second Tanjirou called Inosuke’s name, the wild boy turned shot up from where he was hunched over and just about sprinted straight toward them. Poor guy was probably dying for a break.

“NO, I DIDN’T!”Zenitsu yelped, voice cracking. Inosuke stopped dead in his tracks.

Tanjirou placed a damning hand Zenitsu’s shoulder. “Ignore that,” he said smoothly. “He’s just being shy. Aren’t you, Zenitsu?” The hand tightened almost threateningly.

Zenitsu gulped, and cracked a wobbly grin before shrugging. “I... guess...?”

Tanjirou’s smile widened.

“He’d love it if you taught him some stuff.”

A pause.

Then, the final blow:

“After all— you’re the best at it.”

Inosuke visibly perked up. His shoulders squared, his chest puffed up, and he gave an exaggerated sniff, like he was confirming that, yes, he was in fact, the best at it. If it were possible to visibly absorb a compliment like a sponge, Inosuke did. The pride went straight to his head.

(Which was exactly what Tanjirou was counting on.)

For a brief, nerve-wracking second, Tanjirou worried.

Inosuke wasn’t stupid.

What if he saw through it? What if he refused? What if he-?

Inosuke turned to Zenitsu, scanning him up and down, considering. Then, finally, he nodded resolutely.

“We leave before dawn.”

And just like that, the conversation was over. Inosuke turned and walked back to Nezuko without another word. Zenitsu, meanwhile, looked like he’d just been sentenced to death.

- I!A!O!-

Zenitsu was violently shaken awake before the sun even deigned to show its face. His soul barely had time to return to his body before Inosuke’s voice cut through the darkness—

“Get dressed. We’re going.”

Still half-unconscious, Zenitsu stumbled around in the darkness, pulling on whatever was closest, and stepped outside while still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. And before he could even process what was happening—

Inosuke started stripping him.

Zenitsu’s brain screeched to a full halt. Now he was awake. “Inosuke, WHAT THE HELL—?!” He finally regained control of his limbs, but by then it was already too late. His haori was gone. Inosuke was already halfway back to the house, haphazardly folding it—which was pointless, because the second he opened the door, he just threw it inside.

“You can’t wear that out hunting.” He stated it like the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s your favourite one. You never take it off. It’s gonna get dirty or ripped.”

Zenitsu blinked. “…Oh.”

That was… weirdly thoughtful. For Inosuke at least.

Inosuke jerked his head toward the trees, motioning for Zenitsu to follow before disappearing into the forest. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t pause. Just moved like he already knew exactly where he was going. Which, honestly, he probably did.

He spent so much time out here—usually when he was supposed to be doing chores. It drove Zenitsu insane. Like, actually insane.

Because while he spent all day worrying about getting things done, Inosuke would just—

Forget.

Zenitsu initially didn’t believe him, figuring he was just lazy and using it as a convenient excuse, but he’d eventually come to realize he wasn’t being malicious, he was just genuinely forgetful and easily distracted. 

Zenitsu had seen it in action : Inosuke would be doing something like helping with the cleaning, or practising his writing, or even skinning an animal when he’d suddenly remember something else he was  also  supposed to do, like fixing the fence or stacking the wood, and he’d completely abandon the what he was doing to go do that, then he'd have to be  reminded  to go back and finish his previous task because it had just completely slipped his mind that he’d been busy with something at all .

He showed  very  obvious frustration at the habit, as if he felt completely helpless when it came to his lack of focus.

By the time the day was over? Nothing was finished. And Inosuke very much hated it.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He tried. Zenitsu had watched him try to fight it—watched him scowl in frustration when he realized he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing any-more. His body would go tense, fists clenching like he was physically trying to hold onto the task before it slipped through his fingers.

Because it wasn’t like he didn’t want to help. He did. He wanted to get things done. He wanted to be useful. But his mind just wouldn’t let him.

At first, Zenitsu didn’t get it at all. He’d yelled at him. Lectured him. Told him to just focus, to just finish what he started. But it didn’t help. It just made Inosuke more frustrated.

And Zenitsu didn’t know how to help him with that , so instead he’d started clenching his jaw against the instinct to scold him, and tried a more patient approach when it came to reminding him to do the most basic of things.

Because at the end of the day? Inosuke didn’t mean to forget. And Zenitsu really didn’t want to make him feel bad for it.

Zenitsu had to admit though —out here, in his element? Inosuke was… different . Focused. Sharp . Almost… professional. Like he was born for this.

Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be so—

Inosuke suddenly moved through the forest like a man on a mission, head swinging around in all directions as he inspected the ground carefully for what Zenitsu  assumed  were tracks or other signs of a trail, before he eventually spotted what he was looking for with a noise of triumph and quickly ran over to a  puddle of mud  and practically dove into it head-first to roll around and rub dead, rotting leaves all over himself.

One second, he was scanning the ground like a trained hunter. The next, he was fully airborne—and then face-first into the mud.

Zenitsu made a sound of deep, unbearable suffering and slowly, miserably, dragged a hand down his face.

“Inosuke, what the hell are you doing?”

Inosuke did not look up. Instead, he grabbed a handful of dead, rotting leaves and started rubbing them all over himself.

Zenitsu watched in horror.

“I THOUGHT WE WERE HUNTING.”

“We are,” Inosuke said, completely unbothered. Then, like it was the most obvious thing in the world—

“Get in here and roll around.”

Zenitsu took an instinctive step back. “What—NO. I didn’t sign up for this! I thought you were tracking something, not… whatever this is.”

Inosuke finally turned his head toward him, tilting it like Zenitsu was the crazy one here. “It’s to mask your scent, obviously.” He exhaled sharply, like he was dealing with a particularly stupid child.

Zenitsu closed his eyes. Breathed.

Tanjirou had told him to keep an open mind. Tanjirou had insisted he try not to fuss about Inosuke’s methods. Zenitsu was going to march straight back to the house and strangle him in his sleep.

“Inosuke,” he exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I am begging you to explain things before you do them. Remember, I’ve never properly gone hunting before, I don’t know what I’m doing. You can’t just expect me to immediately understand why you do something that looks completely insane.”

Inosuke stops wiggling around in the dirt and just stares at him.

Zenitsu shifts his weight from one foot to the other under the scrutiny. Inosuke must think he’s a complete idiot. He knew this would be a bad idea. He couldn’t believe he’d let Tanjirou strong-arm him into this! Where was his spine? His pride?? He should have just—

A glob of mud hits him square in the face.

Cold. Wet. Disgusting. His thoughts stop instantly.

“We’re hunting deer,” Inosuke says deliberately, slowly, as if nothing just happened. “They have a very sharp sense of smell, and they can detect a predator before it can even get close enough to see them. That’s why you have to mask your scent. Mud really helps, especially if dead leaves have been rotting in it for a while. It’s not foolproof—they can still smell you—but it takes them longer to identify you as a threat when you smell like the environment. That enough for you?”

Zenitsu wipes the mud from his eyes and blinks a few times.

That... was a surprisingly eloquent explanation coming from Inosuke. Honestly, he’d expected him to just say “because I said so” instead of actually giving a reason. He always tended to forget just how clever Inosuke actually was.

“Hey! Blondie!” Inosuke yells. “Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me all day? Get in the damn mud, dumbass!”

Zenitsu groans. “Okay, okay, I’m coming!”

Walking up to the edge of the puddle, he kneels and stares at it.

Well. That at least explained why Inosuke always came home covered in dirt—he was actually being tactical. Didn’t mean Zenitsu had to like it. And it definitely didn’t mean he was looking forward to walking around covered in this crap all day.

Cautiously, he dips his hands into the mud and starts uncertainly rubbing it over his arms.

Inosuke heaves a sigh like he’s praying for patience—before he grabs Zenitsu by the arm and yanks him into the cold, wet earth.

Zenitsu lets out a garbled screech as Inosuke immediately starts scrubbing handfuls of mud into his clothes and hair.

Zenitsu feels like he’s going to spontaneously combust and explode.

“You’re taking too long! By the time you’re done, all the deer will be gone! Act like you mean it and roll around!”

“Oh dear God,” Zenitsu groans.

This was apparently his life now.

Inosuke ignores him completely and slaps even more mud onto his face.

Zenitsu spits half of it out of his mouth.

Inosuke thinks that’s very funny.

- I!A!O!-

They picked up a fresh trail just after the full rise of dawn.

Inosuke carefully explained what to look for, then told Zenitsu to be very quiet and watch where he stepped so he wouldn’t accidentally snap a twig and give them away.

Fearing Inosuke’s immediate and unforgiving wrath, Zenitsu followed his instructions to the letter.

Eventually, the trail led them to a lone stag, leisurely grazing without a single care in the world. Inosuke tapped Zenitsu’s shoulder to get his attention, then proceeded to make a series of complicated hand gestures.

Zenitsu understood none of them.

His confusion must have been painfully obvious, because Inosuke threw his hands in the air and looked to the sky, as if asking some higher power: are you fucking kidding me right now?

Finally, Inosuke took off his mask and leaned in to whisper directly into Zenitsu’s ear.

Zenitsu tried not to shiver. Or, worse, faint on the spot. Thank god for the layer of mud disguising his rapidly heating face.

“I’m going around to the other side,” Inosuke murmured. “Wait for my signal, then chase it my way.”

Zenitsu nodded stiffly, barely processing words before Inosuke slipped back into the shrubbery—silent, focused, never taking his eyes off the stag.

Zenitsu figured he should probably stop watching Inosuke and do the same thing.

The buck ripped at a particularly tough clump of grass before lifting it’s head and lazily turning it to and fro, at ease but still vigilant. Inosuke stopped moving immediately . It’s ears flicked about, it’s nostrils flared as is scented the air, and it stomped it’s leg to get rid of a particularly irritating fly. Those antlers looked sharp and  dangerous.

Zenitsu tried not to wheeze.

Once it swallowed the mouthful, it dipped it’s head down again, and Zenitsu heard Inosuke start to move again.

After what felt like a short eternity, Inosuke finally got into position and discreetly signalled to Zenitsu that he was ready.

Zenitsu  quickly  jumped out from behind the bush he was hiding in and shouted “ Hey !  Deer !” at the top of his lungs in an attempt to scare it into running towards Inosuke’s direction, but the stag had  other  plans.

It must have been a  particularly aggressive  one, seeing as it wasn't even mating season any-more, but it decided to  charge directly at Zenitsu  anyway.

“HOLY FUCK!” Zenitsu screamed, spinning on his heel and sprinting for his life, but the deer was faster and rapidly gained ground on him.

In the distance Zenitsu heard Inosuke curse loudly. “Climb a tree!” he shouted helpfully, as the stag reached Zenitsu and immediately launched him, screaming bloody murder, right into the air.

Somehow he managed to land on the deer’s back and he clung to it with a vice grip, in fear of his life.

“ATTA BOY!” Inosuke called, sprinting after them, “NOW SNAP IT’S NECK!”

“ARE YOU NUTS?!”

“YES!”

“NO!”

“THEN GRAB IT’S ANTLERS AND STEER IT THIS WAY!” Inosuke relented, exasperated.

Zenitsu prayed. To every god, spirit, and deity that might be listening.

Then, still screaming, he reached for the stag’s antlers and yanked its head toward Inosuke. By some unholy miracle, the rest of its body followed.

“JUMP OFF!”

Zenitsu did not need to be told twice.

Trying his absolute best not to cry, he leapt off the stag’s back, hit the unforgiving ground, rolled as far away as possible, and scrambled backwards until his back hit a tree.

His heart was beating hard enough to crack ribs.

Breaths coming in sharp, panicked gasps.

Then, through the chaos, he saw it.

Inosuke standing his ground, bracing himself as the stag charged straight at him. The moment it got close enough, Inosuke vaulted. Arms locked around its throat. Laughing like a complete fucking lunatic. And in one fluid motion—

H e swung onto its back, grabbed its head, and snapped its neck.

The stag’s legs buckled. Its weight crashed to the ground.

Everything went still.

Inosuke let out a loud whoop! of triumph, still laughing, and made his way over to drag Zenitsu to his feet. Zenitsu’s legs shook. His knees buckled. He leaned on Inosuke just enough to keep from collapsing.

“Whew!” Inosuke beamed. “It’s been a while since a hunt got that eventful.”

Zenitsu couldn’t believe he was attracted to this person.

Really?

This maniac ?

Was he not right in the head??

Then, as if things couldn’t get worse, Inosuke gave him a hearty slap on the ass. Zenitsu let out an incredibly embarrassing ‘yip!’ of surprise. Zenitsu whipped around, ready to yell. Ready to give Inosuke a piece of his mind because HOW DARE—

“Good job, Zenitsu.”

He froze.

His brain short-circuited.

Did Inosuke just…

Did he just compliment him? Without even adding an insult??? Who was this person?? That Zenitsu suddenly really wanted to kiss on the mouth??

He stared, jaw hanging, after Inosuke as he strutted over to the stag and started dragging it away by the back legs.

Someone, somewhere , please grant him mercy.

Chapter Text

The bright sun filtered through the trees, blinding them on occasion as it slipped lower on the horizon. Late afternoon was already giving way to early evening.

They’d sold well that day, despite Tanjirou being rather absent for most of it. The weight of coins in his pocket pressed against his hip with every step, softly clinking together as they made their way home.

He’d woken up with his mind wrapped in fog. No matter how hard he tried to shake it off, it refused to lift. So, like always—he pushed through it. He smiled when he was supposed to. He responded automatically when people spoke. The hours passed in a haze and before he knew it they were on the path up the mountain.

As they walked Nezuko casually recalled conversations they’d had throughout the day, and he could barely place a quarter of them. Could barely connect himself to the things she was describing. So he mostly listened. Pulled together responses from the context in her words, and responded like he remembered.

He tried not to let it show. He just had to make it to bedtime. Hopefully, by morning, he’d feel more like himself again.

Beside him, Nezuko hummed thoughtfully.

“How do you think Inosuke and Zenitsu are doing on their own?” she asked. “Do you think the house is still standing?”

Tanjirou sighed. “I sure hope it is.”

“I mean, I know Zenitsu can handle cooking dinner without burning down the house, but—” she grinned, “God save us if Inosuke decided to help him.”

Tanjirou chuckled at the possible antics of his friends that came to mind. “We really need to teach him how to cook something that’s not just unseasoned meat over a bonfire.”

Nezuko snorted. “What do you think he’d even want to learn?”

It was an easy answer.

“Tempura.” They said it at the exact same time. For a second, they just stared at each other meaningfully. Then Nezuko burst into laughter.

“We’ve been living with him too long,” she wheezed.

Tanjirou couldn’t help but grin. As wild as he was, Inosuke was incredibly predictable in some aspects of life. Food was absolutely one of them.

“You should be the one to teach him,” Nezuko suggested, giving him a light push with her shoulder. “You’re good at cooking.”

Tanjirou hummed thoughtfully. “Zenitsu’s better at teaching, though .”

She gave him a cheeky smile. “Then you should both do it!”

“I think we’d just end up confusing him.” Tanjirou chuckled—

And then he froze.

The scent hit him like a brick wall.

Blood.

Thick, metallic. Wrong.

His hand moved toward his hip—where his sword used to be. His fingers grasped at nothing but air. For a split second, he was thirteen again. Walking home, the exact same scent drifting lazily on the breeze.

“Tanjirou?” Nezuko’s voice pulled him back. She was a few steps ahead of him now, instead of walking alongside him. He didn’t understand why he was half-surprised that she could speak now. After all, she’d been human again for months. He blinked. Swallowed hard.

“Tanjirou, what is it?” She was visibly on edge now, delicate eyebrows furrowing tightly as she kept her eyes focused on him. He almost didn’t answer. The words felt stuck in his throat.

Finally, he managed:

“Blood!”

And then he ran.

As soon as the house came into view, Tanjirou skid to a halt by the tree line, eyes darting wildly over the clearing. His breath came fast, uneven. The door was open—but that wasn’t unusual if someone was home. Still, dread curled like a vice around his chest.

He peered through the open door, expecting carnage, but found only the quiet stillness of home. That didn’t ease him. It only made his stomach churn harder. His feet carried him forward in quick, frantic steps as he circled around the house, eyes scanning every inch of the exterior as he followed the scent.

Where were they?

He scented the air again. The blood was close. Too close.

The pounding of his heart grew louder, matching his hurried footsteps as he followed the scent around the corner, toward the trees in the back. His fingers twitched uselessly at his side, muscle memory screaming for a weapon.

Then—

He saw it.

A deer—strung up in the branches, throat slashed open, blood still sluggishly running down its head and antlers. Thick, crimson streams dripped into a dark puddle beneath it, staining the earth dark.

Tanjirou exhaled sharply, but the tension didn’t leave him.

Right. Inosuke and Zenitsu had gone hunting this morning. He must have forgotten somewhere along the line.

Now that he has the source right in front of him, he could tell—the scent wasn’t human. There was no danger.

He should feel relieved.

He didn’t.

Instead, his eyes involuntarily focused on the coagulating puddle of blood, so utterly transfixed that he couldn’t even blink, and suddenly, he wasn’t here any-more.

He was looking through the blood—

—and all he saw past its surface were images of death and slaughter, friends and allies being murdered on all sides right in front of his eyes as he could only watch, killing enemies that almost always turned out to be nothing but a tragic tale that happened to have horrifying consequences with his own sword, that he held in his own two hands that somehow felt like they didn’t even belong to him any-more.

His stomach twisted violently. He was going to throw up. 

There was no danger here, he knew that, but his muscles tensed anyway, readying for a fight. Readying to die. 

Somewhere in the back of his head, he screamed at himself to control his breathing. Steady. Be ready. Push past it. He hadn’t even realized how uneven it had become.

He gulped, forcing deep, deliberate breaths—just like he’d been taught. He counted each inhale, exhale, willing the trembling in his chest to stop.

It was over.

There were no (dangerous) demons any-more.

Everything was fine.

He was fine .

“Tanjirou, what’s wrong?” Nezuko’s voice—panting, concerned, confused. She finally caught up, leaning against the wall, breathless from chasing after him.

With immense effort, he gulped down the nausea. “Nothing. Nothing, I just—” He forced himself to look at her. “It’s-it’s nothing.”

Nezuko huffed. “It’s not nothing. Look at yourself! You’re pale as a sheet!” Her eyes searched his face, pleading. “Something’s not right. Why won’t you tell me what it is?”

He didn’t know why. He trusted Nezuko. He wanted to tell her what was happening.

But he couldn’t.

The words sat heavy on his tongue, impossible to push out. Which ones was he even supposed to use? How did he explain this? His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Nothing.

Then—

“...What’s happening?” Zenitsu appeared, rounding the corner, eyes flicking between them in confusion. Inosuke followed shortly after.

Something heavy and cold dropped into Tanjirou’s stomach. Too many people. Too many eyes on him. He swallowed hard.

“It’s fine. Everything’s okay.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. “It’s nothing. Everything’s okay. Everyone’s okay.”

Zenitsu frowned. “Tanjirou, you sound like you’re freaking out.”

“I’m not! I just—I just—” Tanjirou struggled for words, his voice high, frantic. “I smelled— and then I thought— but it’s nothing. I just smelled the blood. That’s all that happened.”

Silence. More questioning stares.

“...And then?” Inosuke ventured cautiously.

Tanjirou’s breath hitched. “And then nothing!” he snapped. “It’s fine, everything’s fine, I told you—!”

“He just ran off!” Nezuko interrupted. “I called after him, but it was like he didn’t hear me! He just kept running! When I finally caught up, he was just staring at the puddle of blood like he was seeing a ghost.”

The words sank their claws into him. Their eyes burned holes in him. Watching. Waiting. Expecting. His pulse spiked violently.

Too many people. Too much attention.

The feeling crawled over his skin, itching, clawing, squeezing too tight. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Didn’t know how to make it stop. His whole body shook harder.

He needed to get away. He needed them to get away.

"Tanjirou?" Nezuko took a step towards him, hand outstretched and ready to  comfort  him, but he immediately stepped back on instinct, foot landing in the puddle, causing him to slip and fall backwards, right into it with a loud, wet  splat .

For a moment, he just sat there, stunned.

Then—he looked down at his hands.

And immediately regretted it.

The scent slammed into him. The world drowned in red.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

All he could see. All he could smell.

Friends and allies.

Death.

Enemies and tragedies.

SLAUGHTER.

He was going to pass out.

His control was slipping. His breaths came erratic and uneven, spiralling faster, faster.

There was blood everywhere. There was blood on his hands.

It was too much. Everything was suddenly too fucking much.

His control was starting to slip, and he found his breaths were coming and going more erratically by the second. There was blood everywhere.  There was blood on his hands  and it was too much, everything was suddenly just  too much,  and he felt like he was losing himself with no idea what to do to stop it from getting   even worse .

Then—

“No, no, don’t. Give him space—he’s going to feel crowded.” Zenitsu’s voice cut through the haze.

Tanjirou looked up, chest heaving, just in time to see Zenitsu holding his arms out, blocking Nezuko and Inosuke from coming closer.

“ Go . Get the bath ready— I’ve got him. ”

Nezuko hesitated. Opened her mouth to protest—

Inosuke grabbed her arm and pulled her away, grumbling about being told what to do.

Tanjirou barely registered it.

Then Zenitsu knelt. Not too close. Not too far. The exact same spot where he’d been standing before. He spoke, low and steady: “Tanjirou? I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?”

It took him a solid minute to respond. When he finally did, all he could do was nod shakily.

“That’s good. That’s very good.” Zenitsu’s voice never wavered. “Just focus on my voice. Only my voice. I know it’s a strong smell, but I really need you to do that. I’m gonna talk you through this. You’ll be okay.”

A pause. Then, gently:

“Try to take a deep breath. Just one. That’s all you need to do for now—you don’t have to get it under control all at once. Just one breath. But not through your nose, okay?”

Tanjirou did his best to concentrate—to do as Zenitsu instructed. He tried to ignore the thick scent of blood curling into his lungs with every shallow gasp. He squeezed his eyes shut. Brought a trembling hand to his face—pinched his nose closed.

Blood smeared across his skin. Sticky. Cold.

He ignored it.

And finally, forced one deep, rattling breath in.

"Good. You're doing great. Now try for another one. I'll do it with you this time, okay? In…" Zenitsu inhaled—a smooth, steady breath. “…and out.” Exhale. Controlled. Gentle. "In… and out."

Tanjirou followed. He forced his mind blank.

Slowly, carefully, his breaths came steadier.

Easier.

It was especially better now that he couldn’t smell any-more, even if the metallic tang in the air still settled on his tongue. He poured everything he had left into Zenitsu’s voice. Let himself be guided through it.

Until, finally—

He was okay.

Not fine. Not whole.

But okay.

Zenitsu’s voice softened. "There we go. See? You're okay. You've got this, even if it doesn’t feel like it." A pause. Then, carefully— "I'm gonna come closer now, okay? It's just me. I need you to nod if that's okay."

Tanjirou jerked his head affirmatively in response.

Zenitsu slowly crawled forward on all fours instead of standing—like he was approaching a sacred animal.

Tanjirou certainly felt like one.

Once he was close enough, Zenitsu hesitated. “Can I touch you?” His hands hovered, waiting.

Tanjirou hesitated. Then, after a long moment—

“…Okay.”

Zenitsu nodded. "Okay. I'm gonna help you stand up, then we're gonna get you to the house, get you cleaned up and into the bath. Is that alright?"

"...Okay."

Zenitsu helped him stand—steadily, carefully.

Tanjirou’s legs shook. But he made it up.

Then, when Zenitsu tried to offer more support—Tanjirou refused. He pushed him away. Even when they reached the house, when Zenitsu offered to help him out of his bloodied clothes, Tanjirou shoved him off again. And when Zenitsu hesitated to leave, concern clear in his voice— Tanjirou snapped at him. "Just leave me alone."

He knew he was normally tactile. He knew he should accept help. But right now? He just couldn’t handle it. Not more than what was strictly necessary. He felt like he’d been torn open for the whole world to see.

And it made him want to hide.

-I!A!O!-

Someone knocked. Tanjirou vacantly stared at the surface of the water, watching the ripples shift with every shallow breath as the sound slowly brought him back into awareness.

It had been hot when he first got in.

Now, it was cold.

He must have been in here for a long time.

“Tanjirou?” Nezuko’s voice, muffled through the door. “Are you still okay in there?”

He blinked sluggishly at the door. It took him a moment to respond. “...Yeah.”

A longer pause. “I made tea. Will you be out soon?”

He didn’t want to get out. His limbs felt heavy, his head foggy, and the idea of moving at all seemed exhausting. But still—“I’ll be there in a minute.”

He listened to her footsteps retreat down the hall before he finally dragged himself out of the bath.

Dried off. Dressed. Tried to shake the lingering haze from his head.

Nezuko wordlessly handed him a steaming cup of tea as soon as he sat down.

“Zenitsu and Inosuke are outside,” she said. “They’re trying to get rid of the smell so it won’t bother you any-more.”

Tanjirou just stared into his tea.

He could feel Nezuko’s eyes on him. Watching. Waiting. After a beat, she reached across the table, fingers brushing toward his hands. He folded them into his lap under the table before she could touch him.

Nezuko hesitated. Then pulled back.

Distantly, he knew he was making her worry more, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it.

She didn’t press. Instead, she gently pushed a plate of food toward him. He didn’t react. Didn’t reach for it. Didn’t acknowledge it at all.

Nezuko only sighed and shifted in her seat, hands wrapped around her own cup, sitting in silence across from him.

“Please, eat something?” she pleaded quietly. Carefuly.

Tanjirou just stared at the food. He wasn’t hungry. He didn’t want to eat. But after a long pause, he picked up his chopsticks and took a few bites anyway.

“How are you feeling now?” The question was cautious. Measured.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Nezuko’s brows furrowed. “Will you please stop saying that?” Her voice was sharper now, frustration creeping in. “I know you’re not fine—I can see it.”

Tanjirou sighed, rubbing his forehead like the weight of the conversation was pressing down on him.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Nezuko.” His voice was flat. Tired. “I will be fine though, so please don’t worry, okay?”

Nezuko’s expression twisted. Her hands curled into fists against her lap. “Of course I’m going to worry! You’re my big brother, and you’re not acting like yourself! I just want to help! Why won’t you let me help you?”

Tanjirou exhaled slowly. “Not right now. Please. I’m tired.”

The silence that followed was thick.

He knew he was pushing her away. Knew she wasn’t going to let this go easily. But he just couldn’t do this. Not tonight. He just wanted to sleep.

Nezuko let out a frustrated sigh. For a moment, it seemed like she might push again—

But instead, she softened and gave him a small, warm smile. “I’m here when you’re ready to talk about it, okay?”

She stood up before he could answer, walking over to the cupboard to pull out the futons. Tanjirou watched her. He should get up. Help her. Instead, he swallowed down the rest of his lukewarm tea and said nothing. Did nothing.

Almost as soon as Nezuko finished setting up the futons, Zenitsu and Inosuke returned. They smelled like freshly dug-up soil, but beneath that, Tanjirou could still detect faint traces of blood.

He left the table and climbed into bed before they could sit with him, pulling the covers over himself and starring at the far wall as he listened to them quietly finish their meals.

No words. Just the soft clink of chopsticks. The occasional rustle of fabric.

Then, finally—a quiet exchange of “goodnight”s. The lights went out.

Zenitsu must have understood that Tanjirou wanted to be left alone. For once, he didn’t try to hover. Didn’t hesitate before settling into his own bed.

But then—Inosuke moved.

Tanjirou felt the shift in the air. The familiar, expected weight of Inosuke crawling toward him, and for the first time in a long time—he stopped him.

“Not tonight, Inosuke.”

A pause. “But—”

“ Please . Not tonight.”

Even in the darkness, Tanjirou could tell—Inosuke wasn’t pleased. Wasn’t used to being pushed away. Not by him. The hesitation in his presence was pained, but still—he quietly left Tanjirou be.

Chapter Text

Tanjirou was usually the first one up.

And because he was the first one up—he usually made breakfast.

Usually.

Today, he did not make breakfast. He also wasn’t the first one up. Instead, he’d slept in, only waking when Nezuko gently shook his shoulder. The air was already ripe with the welcoming scent of an already-prepared meal.

"It's time to wake up, Tanjirou," she murmured softly. "Otherwise your food will get cold."

Bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, he sat up. Before he could make a move to get up, Nezuko placed a tray of food in his lap. Then, settling onto her knees beside his futon, she accepted her own tray from Zenitsu.

Zenitsu and Inosuke sat down as well—one on either side of him, trays in hand.

Inosuke, true to form, immediately started eating. He never, ever wasted time. At this point, they'd all accepted that teaching him proper table manners was a complete lost cause.

“We’re eating in bed?” Tanjirou mumbled, groggily wiping sleep from his eye and automatically saying his thanks for the food before picking up his chopsticks.

“We thought we’d just keep things relaxed today. What’s more relaxed than eating breakfast in bed?” Zenitsu explained and popped a piece of fish into his mouth.
“I see,” Tanjirou nodded, “What about the house chores? Are we all just lazing in bed today?”

"Yup," Zenitsu confirmed, popping another bite of fish into his mouth. "Lazing in bed, taking naps. Maybe a bit of reading, or I’ll play some music later. But mostly relaxing. Doesn’t that sound nice?"

“Still sounds boring,” Inosuke grumbled bitterly, shovelling rice into his mouth. It sounded a lot like he had lost an argument about this.

Zenitsu rolled his eyes and threw his hands towards the ceiling in a perfect picture of exasperation. “Well, what would  you  rather do, boar boy ?”

“Go hiking up the mountain!” Inosuke genuinely whined , like staying indoors for a day was physically painful as a concept alone.

“But that’s work! That’s not relaxing!” Zenitsu argued.

“Yes it is!” Inosuke almost pleaded. “There’s a valley on the other side with the softest grass ever, that’d be perfect for your stupid naps, don't you think? C'mon, doesn't that sound better? You can lay down under a shady tree away from the hot sun and listen to the creek run by, peaceful as fuck right?”

Zenitsu gave him a flat look. “Why would I walk all the way up a mountain to take a nap when I can do that here—in the comfort of a bed?”

“So the walk tires you out, duh!” Inosuke gestured aggressively at him, as if the answer should be obvious. “Better napping!”

Zenitsu’s eye twitched. “Well, maybe I’m already tired!”

“You just woke up an hour ago!”

Zenitsu threw his chopsticks onto his tray. “And yet you’ve managed to exhaust me completely in that short amount of time.”

Inosuke, fully offended, scowled at him, flipped him off as he turned back to sulk over his half-eaten food.

“If it’s the same field of grass I’m thinking about, there should be fireflies up there this time of year!” Nezuko cautiously, but excitedly piped in. “We could pack some food and go watch them—make a day out of it!”

Zenitsu’s entire body slumped forward. “Nooo, Nezuko, why?” His head fell into his hands. His shoulders shook—full, exaggerated devastation. It looked like he was about to sob out of utter betrayal.

Tanjirou blinked. “...I think that might be nice...”

A small smile pulled at his lips. He hadn’t gone to see the fireflies in years. His whole family used to make the trip every summer. They’d play games along the way, laughing, chasing each other up the hills. And once night fell, they’d sit perfectly still beneath the canopy of glowing lights, seeing who could get the most to land on them. If the weather was nice, they’d stay overnight in the valley.

Some of Tanjirou’s happiest, calmest memories lived there.

“…And that’s three out of four.” Zenitsu sighed in defeat. His shoulders sagged.

“HAHA! SUDDEN VENGEANCE AND SWEET VICTORY! IN. YOUR. FACE.” Inosuke howled with laughter, way too loudly for both the early hour and the very short distance between them.

Zenitsu exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “Yeah. In my face.” Then, dramatically flopping onto his back, he groaned. “I guess we’re going up the mountain today.”

Tanjirou felt a flicker of guilt. Clearly, Zenitsu had put a lot of thought into their plans. And it wasn’t as if Tanjirou was actively avoiding them. He wasn’t doing this out of malice—he just didn’t need to rest.

He was fine. And Inosuke had offered such a nice compromise. But still…

“You could still bring a book or your shamisen.” Tanjirou offered the words gently. “We’ll get there within two hours. That still leaves plenty of time to relax, too.”

Zenitsu made a long, drawn-out sound of suffering. But—he didn’t reject the idea outright. Which, coming from him, was basically a win.

“I guess you have a point, yeah,” Zenitsu reluctantly admitted.

With the conversation open again, Nezuko immediately launched into a bright, animated retelling of her favourite firefly memories—

The exact same ones Tanjirou had been thinking about.

He couldn’t help but smile happily as he joined her down memory lane. Every so often, he nudged the other two into sharing their own stories.

Inosuke, as it turned out, used to eat fireflies to see if he would glow at night, too. He was very disappointed when he didn’t.

Zenitsu, meanwhile, used them to flirt. Badly. He would dramatically compare girls to their ethereal glow—only to fail miserably every time.

The conversation carried on until Tanjirou’s tray was empty.

And then—

Without a word, Inosuke placed his own uneaten bowl of rice onto it.

And glared.

Right at him.

With all the determination of an actual wild boar.

The silent stare-down stretched for a full minute.

Tanjirou blinked. Completely lost. “…What’s happening?”

Inosuke glared harder. "You didn’t eat enough last night," he eventually said.

His eyes flicked pointedly to the bowl.

“Oh. Inosuke, I’m fine, really—I've had enough to eat, you don’t—"

"Eat." The word came out low. Firm. And as close to pleading as Inosuke would ever get.

Tanjirou hesitated—then relented.

"Alright. Thank you, Inosuke."

Inosuke grunted. Satisfied. Zenitsu, on the other hand, was not handling this well.

“I cannot believe I just witnessed you sharing your food.” He clutched his chest. “With my own two eyes​? In this reality? With no brain damage?” His gaze flicked between Inosuke and the rice, horrified. "Am I still asleep? Is this a dream? Are you sick?" Then, as if to confirm his suspicions, he reached out to place a hand on Inosuke’s forehead.

Inosuke bit him.

-I!A!O!-

Somehow, while Tanjirou wasn't paying attention, Nezuko managed to convince them that they should play a game of tag and race to the top of the mountain.

More specifically she managed to convince Inosuke to play a game of tag.

And from there, things inevitably spiralled. Inosuke immediately declared himself “it, and before anyone could so much as blink—Zenitsu got tackled.

“HAHA, YOU’RE IT NOW!” Inosuke hollered from the ground, and with a manic laugh he took off into the trees.

Tanjirou and Nezuko stood frozen in stunned perplexity.

They turned to Zenitsu—who was still flat on his ass in the dirt, just as lost as they were.

Then—

They looked at each other.

Simultaneously, they took off in opposite directions.

“Catch me if you can!” Nezuko teased, giggling joyfully as she sprinted left into the trees.

“Hey, wait —! Ah, COME ON! Is it ‘pick on Zenitsu’ day?! Did no one think to tell me ?! My poor heart! You’re all shattering it into a million tiny pieces! A MILLION PIECES, I TELL YOU! GUYS?!”

Tanjirou weaved through the trees and shrubs to the right, leaping over protruding rocks, dodging stray branches. He doubted Zenitsu would get lost but out of all of them, he knew the environment the least. So, Tanjirou made sure to stay close enough to pick up his scent on the wind.

At least that was the plan.

Until Inosuke dropped out of a tree right in front of him, Grabbed his arm, and started dragging him off in a completely different direction.

"What—?"

" Short-cut! "

A… short-cut? That Tanjirou didn’t know about? "But what about—?"

"Who cares?" Inosuke cut him off. "I wanna talk to you about something."

That… wasn’t what Tanjirou expected, but before he could ask anything else, they came to a halt in front of a cliff. A large tree grew on the side of the mountain, its exposed roots dangling over the edge, reaching for the small stream trickling through the rock below. Without hesitation, Inosuke squeezed himself into a gap between the roots.

Tanjirou blinked. There was a narrow crevice in the stone, completely hidden—until he actually looked for it that is. He shouldn’t be surprised. The water had to come from somewhere. Clearly, Inosuke took his exploring very seriously.

Tanjirou followed him inside.

"This goes to the other side of the mountain?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah," Inosuke confirmed plainly. "Lets out at the bottom, by the valley we’re going to." And then—without missing a beat— "Why did you wanna sleep alone last night?"

Tanjirou froze and stumbled. The question was so blunt. So direct. Why hadn’t he seen it coming? "...It’s... really hard to explain..."

Inosuke turned and frowned at him in the dim light.

"So you’re not even gonna try ?"

"...I, uh..." Tanjirou swallowed. "...I just. I was in such a… weird. Mood. After...

I just felt. Off. And I didn’t…” His hand curled at his side. "It just would have been too much for me."

Inosuke huffed. "But why?"

Stifling silence. Tanjirou’s throat tightened. It took him a full minute to even begin sorting through his thoughts.

And surprisingly Inosuke let him. He stood there, silent. Waiting. Until finally, Tanjirou was ready to speak. He took a deep, bolstering breath. "Have you ever— I don’t know— felt a little... too much like you’ve been ripped open for everyone to see?" His voice was quiet. Uncertain. "I just— I didn’t want everyone to see me like that. But they did. And afterwards-I just wanted some space."

Inosuke was silent for a moment.

Then—"So... it was just because you wanted some space?" His voice wasn’t accusing—just carefully searching. Like he was making sure he wasn’t the one at fault here. "Is it gonna be like that every time now? Was it just a one-time thing?"

Tanjirou hesitated. "I don’t know, Inosuke." He exhaled, rubbing at his numb arm. "But it’s not always going to be like that. Last night was just... really bad."

Inosuke let out a sharp breath—like he’d been holding it in. "If something’s wrong, then... you should tell someone about it, you know? Tell us about it."

Tanjirou clenched his jaw. "I don’t... want you guys to worry about me when I can handle it, I promise."

"Yeah, we know that!" Inosuke’s voice spiked. "But! Not knowing what you're trying to handle makes us worry more! Even when you say it's not that bad! Because you’re a bad liar, Tanjirou!" His hands flew into the air, frustrated, voice dropping, low and heated. "You’ll say ‘it’s fine, don’t worry, I can handle it’—as you die right in front of us. Of course we know you need help when you insist like that!"

Tanjirou flinched. His breath shook. "I don’t want to burden you with—"

"Do I have to say pretty please?” Inosuke leaned in too close, right in Tanjirou’s face. "Please, oh please, Tanjirou? Is that what you want?"

Tanjirou immediately malfunctioned. His face heated. Slowly—so, so slowly—he managed to answer. "...No?"

Inosuke perked up. "...So you do!"

They had stopped walking.

Inosuke was just a faint outline in the dark now. Tanjirou’s mortification grew exponentially. The surrounding darkness suddenly felt like a gift. Because—God help him—that was a different fantasy altogether and it had no place rearing its dirty little head here right now. "No! Absolutely not! Of course I don’t!" Tanjirou’s voice shot up an octave.

Inosuke cackled. "Then you better start unloading, idiot! Because I will get Zenitsu and Nezuko to start wailing at you about it, too!"

Tanjirou went pale. Oh GOD, no. “Please don’t do that, either!"

"Then say something when you're feeling weird!"

"I will! I promise!"

"Good!" The last bit of fire left Inosuke’s voice. His energy fizzled out. His next words were softer. "...You’re lucky Zenitsu knew what to do. I sure as shit didn’t… Scared the hell out of me, you asshole."

Tanjirou felt his stomach twist. A quiet beat passed between them. "I’m sorry." Tanjirou’s voice was gentle. Sincere. "But I’m fine today, I swear."

And then—suddenly— Inosuke’s hand found his. Tanjirou startled, but he didn’t pull away. He felt Inosuke’s fingers curl, searching—linking their pinkies together.

He held their hands between their faces.

" Now it’s a promise."

Chapter Text

Uh, Inosuke? You forgot to mention something about this shortcut..." Tanjirou said. His voice echoed slightly here where the cavern expanded to make space for a nicely sized lake.

"What?" Inosuke questioned, looking at him through the dumb eyes of his boar mask, already waist-deep in freezing water.

"...Really? You don't think maybe there was something you should have maybe told me before we took this path...?"

Inosuke shrugged. "No?"

Tanjirou was trying so hard to lead him to the answer, but either Inosuke was being purposefully obtuse… or he genuinely didn’t think it was worth mentioning where the cavern let out. Tanjirou just smiled at him as patiently as he could, if a little wryly.

"Well I'm not exactly prepared to swim there, Inosuke, and we're carrying our lunch. The food will get wet, then we can't eat it."

Inosuke snorted. "No it won't."

Oh, okay, so he had a plan. Right? "Okay... care to tell me how you're gonna get it there in one piece?"

"Eat it now."

Tanjirou stared. And kept staring. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, like a confused animal.

"...Good plan, Inosuke, but, and hear me out, how about we don't do that?"

"Why? You got a better idea?"

"Let’s just go back the way we came and climb. Nezuko and Zenitsu won’t mind waiting, and the whole reason we took this way was to talk, right? Well… we talked, so—" Tanjirou trailed off, unsure and fully aware that was definitely not going to convince Inosuke. Actually, wait...

"Them?! Wait for me?! You eat those words, Tanjirou! Look, we're right there! The mouth of the cavern is just under the water's surface, and then we're there! There’s no way they're beating us there!"

"But the food—!"

"The food will be fine, it's in leather packs!" Inosuke insisted, and next thing Tanjirou knew, Inosuke had grabbed his pack and dove under the water.

"Inosuke!" Tanjirou called, sighed in exasperation, and dove in after him.

The opening was indeed just under the water's surface, and Tanjirou’s head was above water almost as soon as it went under. Tanjirou wiped the water from his eyes just in time to see Inosuke, both packs held high above his head, torpedoing toward the shore at a ridiculous speed, using nothing but the power of his legs.

How the hell was he even staying afloat like that?

The second he hit shore, Inosuke tore open the bags, eyes scanning the contents like a madman—then he shot to his feet, lunches raised high in victory.

"DRY AS A BOOOONE!" he hollered back.

I!A!O!

Zenitsu couldn’t fucking believe this.

…No, scratch that—of course he could. What the hell, Inosuke? Ditching him and Nezuko to take Tanjirou cave diving? Because he wanted to talk where Zenitsu couldn’t hear them?? Absolute shit-for-brains behaviour! Did he really have to orchestrate this whole damn outing just to get a moment alone with Tanjirou? SERIOUSLY?!

Zenitsu was pissed. It wasn’t enough for him to win the argument about what to do for the day to help Tanjirou unwind after last night, but now he had to kidnap him and leave Zenitsu and Nezuko to climb a goddamn mountain while the two of them took a ‘short-cut’. Come on!

After overhearing the plan—because, shocker, Inosuke doesn’t know how to shut up—Zenitsu had found Nezuko, furiously raved at her about Inosuke’s inconsiderate bullshit for a good five or maybe even ten minutes, and then convinced her to get on his back while he ran with her to this apparently perfect valley with Thunder Breathing.

It. Fucking. HURT.

His legs hadn’t been the same since the final fight. The muscles, stiff from the way they’d healed after being sliced open, pulled too tight with every step—like he was stretching them past their limit. And Inosuke fucking KNEW Zenitsu barely used breathing techniques anymore—but that didn’t stop him. Oh no, that dumbass had gone and forced his hand anyway.

This was THE WORST. Inosuke was THE WORST. And now, Zenitsu was sprinting up the mountain, one long leap at a time, fuelled by nothing but spite and the need to make him SORRY. Oooooh, Inosuke was gonna get it when he reached the valley.

Everything around him was a blur. Nezuko held on so tightly it was like she was trying to fuse to his body, just so she wouldn’t go flying if she lost her grip—but she didn’t make him stop, and for that, Zenitsu was grateful.

If he stopped now, he might not start again.

He got there in RECORD TIME, skidding to a stop and kicking up a trail of dust in his wake—a force of nature come to a sudden halt. He carefully kept his balance, making sure his feet didn’t slide out from under him as he stopped—he was carrying precious cargo, after all, and he refused to forget that.

Once he was fully stopped, he set Nezuko down. Carefully. Delicately. She slid off his back easily, quickly straightening out her clothes and hair before looking up at him.

“Are you okay? How are your legs?” she asked.

"My legs? Oh, totally fine. Just a little sore—actually, no, I’m about to collapse. And it is NOT fine. Are you okay?"

“Oh, I’m fine!” she assured him with a warm smile. Then, without missing a beat—“Now sick ‘em, boy.”

Zenitsu EXPLODED at Inosuke like a lightning strike from hell. He jumped at him, throwing his arms around the wildman's throat in a solid headlock while his legs wrapped around his waist so he was effectively clinging to his back like an angry monkey.

“YOU!” he roars. “You make us forgo a day of luxurious rest and relaxation to scale a goddamn mountain, and then you DITCH me and Nezuko to climb it by ourselves so you can take Tanjirou cave-diving?! You ASSHOLE! Do you have ANY idea how much it physically HURTS to use Thunder Breathing these days?! OH WAIT—YOU DO. Because I’ve WHINED ABOUT IT FIVE MILLION TIMES.”

Inosuke stumbled at the impact, feet shuffling wildly to stay upright as he twisted, trying to shake Zenitsu off. But Zenitsu refused to go down, shrieking his rage directly into his ear.

Much to Zenitsu’s further enragement, Inosuke was laughing. “THAT ALL YOU GOT, WEAKLING?!” Inosuke cackled, finally breaking free—only to grab Zenitsu and sling him straight into the dirt.

Zenitsu barely had time to breathe before Inosuke crashed down on top of him, pinning him with his full weight. They shuffled around, kicking up dust and flailing limbs. Usually, when their fights got physical, they didn’t last long, but Zenitsu had no intentions of slowing down any time soon, fueled entirely by rage and indignation. He eventually tangled one of his legs with Inosuke’s and used the other to push and flip them over, going in for the chokehold again—but Inosuke saw that coming and acted fast, hugging Zenitsu’s forearms to his chest and completely immobilizing his arms in one fluid movement.

“Hah! Too slow!” Inosuke crowed, flipping them yet again. He let go of Zenitsu’s arms just long enough to slam him onto his stomach, yanking his arms behind his back. Zenitsu thrashed wildly, but Inosuke just plopped onto his back like a victorious king, pinning him face-first into the dirt.

“I win!” Inosuke panted proudly, like this was just a game—which only pissed Zenitsu off more.

“FUCK! YOU!” Zenitsu spat, still thrashing, still fighting, forcing Inosuke to work to keep him pinned.

“Okay, okay,” Tanjirou tried to interject, “Guys, come on, there’s really no need to-”

Zenitsu quickly shut him down. “Don’t you fucking dare defend him, Tanjirou! That was a dick move and you know it!”

Tanjirou held his hands up in surrender and stepped away.

“What the hell are you so mad for??” Inosuke questioned. “I just wanted to talk to him!”

“Yeah, I heard that part! You could have just said something and I would have given you guys space! You didn’t need to orchestrate an entire fuck-fest of a day just to get a moment with Tanjirou! Apologize!”

Inosuke instantly bristled. “Why should I? You would have heard everything and I didn’t want that! You should be in awe of my brain right now, not yelling at me for breaking some stupid unspoken rule I didn’t even know existed!”

Zenitsu straight-up growled, fists clenched, burning with fury. He wanted nothing more than to beat some manners into this stubborn boar. Violently. But instead, he screwed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw, and took a positively massive breath.

Then—suddenly, purposefully—he went limp.

He took another deep breath, his eyes opened, and he glared at Inosuke coldly. Controlled.

“Okay. Okay. Inosuke?” he started, voice tightly spun, but miles more controlled than he had been a mere moment ago.

“...What?” Inosuke ventured, sounding incredibly confused and unsure about this new development.

“Get. Off. NOW.”

Zenitsu left no room for argument, he was DONE squabbling like children and getting nowhere. Time for a different approach.

Even Inosuke, all instinct and impulse, felt the shift. This wasn’t a fight anymore—this was something else. Carefully, like he was stepping away from a landmine and was afraid of hitting another one, he let Zenitsu go and stepped back.

Zenitsu pushed himself into a sitting position, sent Inosuke one last dirty look, then sighed like he was breathing fire. He roughly ran a hand through his hair, wiped the dust from his face.

Inosuke didn’t take his eyes off of him.

“Here’s the rule: you don’t invite someone out, then ditch them like an asshole to do something else.” Zenitsu grit out between his teeth. "Do you know why?"

Slowly, cautiously, Inosuke shook his head. “...No?” He had never looked more unsure of himself.

"Because you set an expectation. A simple one." Zenitsu continued lowly. “Do you get how that makes people feel? You set an expectation, then just ditch them?”

Inosuke actually paused. Thought. His nose scrunched. His gaze flickered to his own feet. “...Bad...?”

“ANGRY, Inosuke. It makes them feel ANGRY,” Zenitsu corrected, voice sharp as a dagger. “Do you understand WHY it makes them angry?”

Inosuke had the audacity to still look unsure of the answer, so Zenitsu didn’t wait for him. “BECAUSE. It’s incredibly inconsiderate of the effort they put in to go along with your, frankly, BUCK FUCKING WILD urges and demands!”

He took another steadying breath, then threw his hands up at the sky. “I could be in bed right now. Napping. COMFORTABLY.” He jabbed a finger at his own, still aching legs. “Instead, I spent all this energy scaling a mountain because that’s what you and everyone else wanted to do today, but because of your stupid ulterior motives, I had to use breathing techniques – which, once again, HURTS to do now – so Nezuko and I could catch up with you two! Does that REALLY sound fair to you?”

Inosuke opened his mouth like he wanted to argue. He stopped. Shuffled his weight around. Opened his mouth again. Paused. Actually thought about it. Then, in the smallest voice anyone had ever heard from him: "...No.”

Zenitsu stared him down, unwavering. “Well?”

Inosuke fidgeted with his hands. Shuffled his feet again. Scratched the back of his neck. Looked like he was physically struggling to push out the words. And then, finally: “...Sorry.”

Zenitsu only raised an eyebrow. “For?”

Inosuke let out a pained sigh, face twisting like he’s unexpectedly tasted something horridly bitter. “For... ditching you...and Nezuko.” he finished.

Zenitsu exhaled, letting the last of his fury bleed out with his breath. The fight was over. He eyed Inosuke for another beat—then, finally, he smirked. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Apology accepted.”

Zenitsu crossed his arms, shifting his weight to one side with a dramatic sigh. "Great. Now that you’ve learned basic human decency—WHY are you both absolutely drenched?"

-I!A!O!-

Inosuke didn’t sulk for long. Within moments, the valley echoed with his signature brand of madman laughter.

Zenitsu barely had time to let out a single, panicked shriek before Inosuke launched them both into the water, cackling like a demon set loose.

Zenitsu, obviously, went down kicking and screaming, but ultimately it was no use—Inosuke was an unstoppable force.

Tanjirou sighed through his laughter, already stepping toward the water, resigned to his fate as Zenitsu’s designated rescuer—again.

Nezuko cackled where she stood next to him, bent at the waist and wheezing.

-I!A!O!-

"OI, OI, OI, GIMME THAT BACK!" Inosuke bellowed, lunging wildly as Nezuko ducked, twisted, and effortlessly evaded his every grab.

Nezuko, grinning behind the boar mask now perched proudly on her head, let out a playful huff—then bolted up the nearest tree like a giggling little goblin.

"Only if you can catch me! Good luck, slowpoke!" she teased playfully as he scrambled for purchase on the branches, while she, meanwhile, scurried up higher like some sort of lizard.

Zenitsu, still soaked and half-drowned, flopped onto his back in the grass and wheezed. "Forget demons—she’s the real threat."

-I!A!O!-

Tanjirou barely had time to react before Inosuke, mid-climb and mid-rage, turned his frustration on the tree itself—by attempting to head-butt it into submission.

"Oh, for the love of—" Tanjirou sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. "Inosuke, we've been over this, all you're doing is giving yourself brain damage!"

“LIES!” Inosuke roared, slamming his head against the trunk with a sickening THUD. “THIS IS ADVANCED COMBAT STRATEGY.”

Nezuko, once again, was zero percent helpful, cackling from her perch in the tree, mask still balanced on her head. "Keep going, Inosuke! You've almost got me!"

Zenitsu, still sprawled in the grass, groaned dramatically. “She’s taunting him, Tanjirou—she’s speaking his language! We’re all doomed.”

-I!A!O!-

Mask back in place, Inosuke almost seemed to sigh in relief with his face comfortably back where it belonged, but something was off. "You coming?!" he yelled up at Nezuko.

Nezuko wiggled one leg, then the other, then very slowly looked down at them, eyes wide—yeah, she was stuck.

"Uhm. Guys? A little help, please?" she asked, mouth turning into a dramatic pout, and Inosuke's brain screeched to a halt. Oh shit.

Tanjirou was already moving before Inosuke could even process the situation, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Okay, let’s not panic—Inosuke, don’t eat the tree.”

-I!A!O!-

With Nezuko safely out of the tree and her feet planted firmly on the ground, Zenitsu let out a long, exhausted sigh of relief.

He barely had time to blink.

Which, unfortunately, was exactly when Inosuke lunged at him full force, grinning like a feral beast. “ALRIGHT, ROUND TWO, SPARKY!”

"What—WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!" Zenitsu shrieked, limbs flailing as they tumbled around in the dirt again, this time completely against his will.

Tanjirou just shook his head, resigned, while Nezuko clapped like an enthusiastic little gremlin, fully encouraging the madness.

And then—because of course they did—they tumbled into the lake again. Tanjirou's head slumped. "Help him, please?" he asked Nezuko.

Nezuko gave him a cheeky thumbs-up before skipping toward the water’s edge, leaving Tanjirou to wonder when exactly he lost control of his life.

-I!A!O!-

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the first fireflies began to stir—tiny, ghostly lanterns flickering to life in the deepening dusk. And just like that, the valley awakened.

Tanjirou had been the first to settle down, choosing a spot beside a fallen tree to simply watch. Nezuko darted through the fireflies, trying to catch them between her hands, while Inosuke (much to Zenitsu’s obvious relief) decided to join her in terrorizing small, innocent creatures.

Zenitsu dragged himself over the grass like a dying man, panting, sopping wet, and utterly spent.

“Did you have fun out there?” Tanjirou asked.

“Fun? Fun?! My lungs are on fire, my legs are jelly, and that menace of a man just tried to drown me!” Zenitsu groaned, heavily slumping back against the log.

Tanjirou shook his head, laughing quietly. “You guys were just swimming. You were grinning like an idiot the whole time.”

Zenitsu scoffed at that, as if it denied anything. For a solid moment, they just sat together and caught their breath, letting the silence sit comfortably. Zenitsu was still panting with exertion—looks like he was right after all, it really was impossible for him to relax with Inosuke around.

Zenitsu complained endlessly about Inosuke dragging him into play-fights and petty squabbles—but if he wasn’t enjoying himself, would he really throw himself in with so much enthusiasm?

Something about Inosuke just pulled Zenitsu out of his shell in a way Tanjirou’s gentle encouragement never could.

That thought settled in Tanjirou’s chest like a small, uncomfortable weight—but he pushed it down before it could take root.

They made a good pair. There was nothing wrong with that, and Tanjirou refused to get jealous of their dynamic, even if it ate at him sometimes.

Tanjirou turned back to Zenitsu—now quiet, eyes reflecting the fireflies’ glow, face slack with wonder.

Considering he grew up in the city, Tanjirou realized this was probably the most fireflies he'd seen in one spot. He knew they still showed up in some parts of the city, and, hell, they'd seen fireflies on their travels when they were Demon Hunters, but not like this.

This was pure, unfiltered nature—fireflies blinking like fallen stars, replacing the constellations above. And Zenitsu was definitely in awe, it was plain as day, written all over him.

“I swear he's trying to kill me. Maybe not on purpose, but one day? He’s gonna be the reason I drop dead. My headstone will literally say: ‘Here lies Zenitsu Agatsuma—died by dumbassery.’” Zenitsu dramatized suddenly.

Tanjirou snorted a laugh. Leave it to Zenitsu to go overboard. “Oh, I don’t know, that doesn’t sound right. More like: ‘Here lies Zenitsu Agatsuma—perished from chronic romantic repression.’”

Zenitsu leveled him with a flat look. “Oh no, not this again...”

Oh yes, this again. Tanjirou wasn’t letting this go—Zenitsu could have all the space he wanted, but that didn’t mean Tanjirou wouldn’t keep nudging him toward the truth.

“I’m just saying, you know. You’re... really not all that subtle about it anymore. Change your mind about making a move?”

“ABSOLUTELY THE HELL NOT.”

Tanjirou burst out laughing. “You sure? At this point I think he might even notice.”

“Oh God, don’t even joke about that.” Zenitsu griped, tiredly dragging a hand down his face.

“So what if he does? Did you see the way he’s been teasing you since you guys had that fight? How he constantly tried to play around with you? It’s like he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Any excuse to be close to you. I swear, it’s like he’s smitten.”

Zenitsu gaped at him, fireflies casting flickering gold over the deep red flush on his face. “He’s what?”

Tanjirou shrugged, trying to stay casual. “It’s not like he’s said anything, but this is Inosuke we’re talking about. It’s just something I noticed.”

“Tanjirou. My friend. Have you considered an eye exam? Maybe a full cognitive assessment?” Zenitsu shot back with no heat, but Tanjirou could see by the way he refused to look at him, how he absently plucked at the grass underneath him – he was thinking. And that was good. That was a step in the right direction.

“It’s a good sign, Zenitsu. At the very least? You’ve earned his respect today. He kept looking for your approval, don’t you see that? You changed his perspective, and that’s not easy to do. You should feel proud of yourself.”

Zenitsu sighed, looked to the sky, held his hands up in prayer and silently mouthed ‘save me’ before he turned back to Tanjirou, a determined glint in his eye. “Oh okay. Okay so Inosuke probably likes me. Now what?”

Something squeezed uncomfortably in Tanjirou’s chest again—a weight he neither wanted nor welcomed. It was heavy. It was annoying him. He shouldn’t feel this way. He blew out a breath and leaned back against the tree, too, trying to think of an answer while he fought the distracting feeling down. He was trying to encourage Zenitsu here, not throw a pity party for himself.

"Is that what you wanted to hear? Because I doubt that. And I DEFINITELY doubt he likes ME. He'd follow you around like a puppy any day. I barely manage to get him to do chores. I'm more like... his favourite chew toy." Zenitsu finished. Oh. So that’s how Zenitsu wanted to play it? Fine. Tanjirou could push back just as hard.

"Oh sure, he'll do SOME stuff I tell him. Reluctantly. But he doesn't seek me out when he's bored, he doesn't pick fights just to get my attention, he literally BITES you all the time, and we KNOW it's because he thinks you're cute and can't hold it in."

Zenitsu groaned in exasperation. "Are you gonna keep bringing up the biting thing? Okay, fine, he thinks I'm cute. He also thinks rabbits are cute—but do you know what he does to them?! He chases them, kills them, and drags them home for dinner! Someone thinking you're cute doesn't mean they like, LIKE you. It just means the way you look fits a personal preference, and it's not necessary... you know... like that. I'm just another rabbit to him. Maybe, MAYBE I earned some of his respect today, but you always had it from the start. Hell, sometimes he acts like you hung the moon and stars in the sky. Or well, you know, the Inosuke equivalent of that. Stop fooling yourself, YOU'RE the one holding yourself back because you're scared," Zenitsu argued.

Tanjirou wanted to challenge that last point—but what was the point? He hated lying, and he was shit at it. So, like everything else that hurt, he chose to ignore it. "I still think you should make a move."

"And I think YOU should make a move." Zenitsu was absolutely not letting up.

Neither was Tanjirou. Perhaps it was better to put a pin in this for now. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll drop it. But this isn’t over.”

Zenitsu rolled his eyes. “Yeah whatever, don’t care. My brain hurts. We’ll just agree to disagree.”

Ha. For now.

By now, the fireflies had fully taken over the night, drifting lazily through the air like tiny, glowing ghosts. In the silence, in the lull of conversation, Tanjirou couldn't help but get nostalgic again. He remembered nights like this—his parents having small, playful arguments under the glow of tiny miracles while he and his siblings chased fireflies to their hearts’ content.

And somehow, here he is with Zenitsu, following in their footsteps in the most abstract manner possible. Sitting here like his parents did, watching over Inosuke and Nezuko while they had an absolute ball. It didn't fit the mould they left behind, because God knows nothing could ever fill the void they left.

But it still felt right.

Tanjirou tried to pull himself from the melancholy thoughts, looking around for a distraction, and his eyes once again found Zenitsu. Zenitsu lay on his back in the grass, eyes tracing the slow, flickering dance of the fireflies above.

His expression was so soft, so unguarded, like he was actually letting himself peacefully enjoy the moment for once. The soft glow made his eyes absolutely shine in the dark and highlighted his long lashes, from this angle it emphasized the curve of his throat, his jaw, the plush of his mouth.

Tanjirou could definitely see why Inosuke bit him so much, because Zenitsu was more than just cute, he was... pretty. And it was harder than he’d expected to keep that thought to himself, but he managed.

Then one of them landed on the tip of his nose and Zenitsu went cross-eyed as he watched it descend in slow-motion. He couldn’t help but laugh lightly at the sight, and Zenitsu's eyes flicked towards him, and Tanjirou just smiled at him. A genuine, fond smile. Zenitsu smiled back.

Tanjirou's heart thumped hard—too hard. A warmth bloomed in his chest, cozy and golden—

-OH.

Oh no.

Oh please, God, no, anything but this.

Not just Inosuke. Zenitsu, too. Oh. Oh, fuck. WHAT?!

Zenitsu turned back to the fireflies, blissfully unaware of the absolute meltdown happening beside him. Tanjirou knew his own panic had to be written all over his face, but thankfully, Zenitsu was too busy grinning at the sky, looking happier than Tanjirou had seen him in ages. And that only made it worse.

It was with a brutal finality that Tanjirou realized he was absolutely FUCKED.

Chapter Text

Nezuko told him about the letter two days before the carriage arrived. A travel bag was packed and loaded. And now it was... time to say goodbye.

The horse snorted and stomped its hoof, shifting where it stood – impatient to get moving again. Like it couldn’t wait to take his little sister away from him.

“You’re sure you have everything?” Tanjirou tried his best not to look or sound as uneasy as he felt. He was under no illusion that he was succeeding, but hey, it was the thought that counted. Right?

Nezuko sighed and rolled her eyes, but it was all for show. The playfulness and excitement in her eyes told a different story. “Yes, Tanjirou. I’m sure. Want to check my bag yourself, just to be safe?”

“No, no! You probably do, I’m just. I’m just making sure.” Tanjirou caught himself fidgeting and quickly folded his hands together behind his back. He couldn’t hold onto her forever. He knew that. She was her own person. She was growing up, forging a life of her own, and wasn’t that why he fought so hard to turn her back human the first place? So that she could?

“I know. Don’t worry so much, I won’t be gone forever. In fact, I’ll be back before you know it! I’m just visiting Kanao at the mansion, I’m not moving in or anything!” Nezuko giggled, her gentle smile glowing like the breaking dawn.

“Right. Yeah! Just – stay safe, okay? I’ll miss you.” Tanjirou admitted, trying just a little harder to put on a brave face.

“I will, don’t worry. I’ll miss you, too. Now give me a hug so I can get in the carriage!” Nezuko demanded—spreading her arms like the wings of a fledgeling learning to fly on its own.

Tanjirou obeyed, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. For a second he wanted to refuse to let her go, to insist that she stay here, with him, or that he can go with. That he could never let her leave so he could always watch over her – but it was only for a second.

And reluctantly... he did let her go.

She hugged Zenitsu, then gave Inosuke one of those half-punches they used to communicate affection.

And just like that she was off on an adventure all of her own.

Tanjirou swallowed down the sudden urge to cry as the carriage drove out of sight.

-I!A!O!-

Supplies were running low, and so was morale after sending off the heart of their group. So, after their goodbyes with Nezuko the boys decided to replenish their cupboards and spirits by going out foraging.

They'd been at it for thirty quiet minutes when Tanjirou broke the silence: "Inosuke?"

"Hah?"

"Let's make this a little more fun. I have a challenge for you. A game of hide-n-seek. Zenitsu and I will hide, and you have to find us with no breathing techniques. You can only use your tracking expertise. You up for it?"

Zenitsu looked at Tanjirou like he'd just grown a second head. Meanwhile, Inosuke just laughed.

"Easy! Pathetic excuse for a challenge! You're on! You have five minutes before I start hunting you down like rabbits!"

"Wait—NO. You guys can't be serious." Zenitsu protested.

"Done." Tanjirou agreed, "We start right now."

-I!A!O!-

Inosuke found Zenitsu within ten minutes flat.

It was disappointingly easy. Inosuke had picked up his trail first and he’d followed it up to a hollow log – when Zenitsu shrieked about a spider from within it. In his panic he’d literally tackled Inosuke to the ground and yelled “GET IT OFF. GET IT OFF!” at him.

After the initial surprise? Inosuke couldn’t stop laughing.

“I could have died, Inosuke! It could have BIT ME and I would have died! It’s not funny!”

Inosuke just laughed harder. “That wasn’t even a challenge! You did my job for me!”

“I want a do-over!”

“It still counts! Now! Which way did Tanjirou go?”

“I DON’T KNOW! Aren’t you supposed to actually look for him? Or is it just beyond you?”

“I’LL FIND HIM IN LESS TIME THAN IT TOOK YOU TO GIVE YOURSELF AWAY!”

-I!A!O!-

It had been several hours, and Inosuke paused in his steps to think.

There was no trail to follow.

Inosuke had tried to pick one up this entire time – retraced his steps to where Tanjirou had given him this challenge countless times – but there was nothing. Nothing but the footsteps that lead there from the house in the first place.

No broken branches or scuffed tree bark, no prints in the mud that lead him anywhere but here. It was like Tanjirou just came up the mountain with them and then disappeared into thin air when Inosuke had turned around.

He’d even followed the original trail to the bottom of the mountain, guessing Tanjirou had walked backwards in his own trail to throw him off, but there was no way he could have gone that far down the trail so fast without turning around at some point – but he would have left traces if he did that.

How was this possible?

“IS THIS SOME SORT OF BREATHING TECHNIQUE?!” He shouted at the sky. Or maybe he was shouting at Tanjirou. Either way, his only answer was Zenitsu nearly passing out on him.

“WHY WOULD YOU JUST SCREAM LIKE THAT OUT OF NOWHERE?!” Zenitsu screamed.

“There’s nothing! I can’t—there’s no trail to follow!”

“What do you mean ‘there’s no trail to follow’? I thought you could track!”

“You take that back! I can track! But it’s like he-!” Inosuke made a sudden pause as a thought occurred to him. He had heard of these things. There were... beings... that could walk and leave no trail. The blood drained out of his face. “HAS TANJIROU BEEN A GHOST THIS WHOLE TIME?”

He turned to Zenitsu, expecting to have his horror at this realization reflected back at him – Only to find something else.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Zenitsu asked flatly, huffing in disbelief.

“Think about it! There’s no trail!”

“He’s not a ghost Inosuke. How else would he have made the tracks up the mountain?”

Right! “So how the fuck did he do this?!”

There was a pause as both of them failed to come up with an answer. Eventually Zenitsu had started biting his nails and starring off into the distance – his face pulled as if he’s just tasted something bitter. “It’s been hours, Inosuke. The sun’s gonna go down soon. What if something happened to him? Oh God, what if he IS dead?”

“Like what?” Inosuke asked, befuddled. “Tanjirou wouldn’t just die, not after everything that DIDN’T manage to kill him!”

“Anyone can just die, Inosuke! Maybe he – maybe he climbed into a tree near a cliff, slipped, fell down into a ravine, and smashed his head open on a sharp rock? Or – or he could have been eaten by a bear – I don’t know! There are lots of ways someone could die out here! He’s not invincible!”

“The BEAR would have left tracks!”

“Not if he fell down a cliff and broke his head first!”

“SHUT UP! He’s not dead! I refuse to believe he’s dead!”

Zenitsu flailed. “You refuse -?! Inosuke he could be out there dying and we’re here arguing about it – let’s just – we have to find him! Do your wild-man sense thing!”

“AND LOSE?”

“IS LOSING TO HIM REALLY WORSE THAN LOSING HIM?! WHAT ARE WE GONNA TELL NEZUKO?!”

Inosuke froze - like he’s just been slapped. There was no way he was telling Nezuko that her brother perished in a CHILDREN’S GAME.

“TANJIROU!” He yelled through cupped hands, and tried to ignore how his voice cracked just a little bit.

-I!A!O!-

“We should just... go home for the night. Try again in the morning when there’s light again. If there – if there is a trail, and we just missed it, maybe – look at it with fresh eyes in the morning? Maybe we’ll get lucky and we can at least give Nezuko something to bury.” Zenitsu mumbled tiredly. The sun had gone down ages ago, and he’d eventually gotten Inosuke to look with with spacial awareness trick – and he couldn’t find any trace of Tanjirou on the mountain at all.

Nezuko was going to kill them. Or worse. Make them live with the guilt and shame.

“Heh. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he actually just managed to make his way home.” Inosuke joked.

In an instant, they were looking each other dead in the eyes, faces slack.

And then they RAN.

At the foot of the mountain they saw their first sign – smoke drifting into the sky in a thin, lazy stream. And then the smell hit them. Grilled fish. Miso soup. FOOD.

When they got to the edge of the clearing, the lights were on in the house. And when they stood in front of the door – just looking at each other slack-jawed – they could see a shadow moving behind it. Inosuke ripped the door open -

There was Tanjirou, casually setting the table. He didn’t even have the decency to get startled by the loud WACK of the door hitting it’s frame. He lifted his head nonchalantly and smiled at them warmly.

“Hey! You guys are just in time!”

Zenitsu shrieked like a boiling kettle.

“What the FUCK!” Inosuke bellowed.

“I never said we couldn’t hide at home, too.” Tanjirou shrugged, as if what he did shouldn’t be utterly illegal.

Inosuke looked like he wanted to argue SO BADLY – he stuttered and spit profanities for a good minute – and then his shoulders just sagged and he stared into the distance, like the entire weight of the universe suddenly collapsed onto his back.

Zenitsu’s one eyelid had quickly developed a mighty twitching problem.

“We thought you were DEAD!” He yelled, “Don’t fucking scare us like that! And look! Look what you did! You broke Inosuke!”

Tanjirou paused.

“I’m really sorry I scared you guys. I didn’t break any rules, though. And – I’m perfectly fine! See?” he said and spread his arms out gesturing at himself, as if to show that, yes, he was in fact in one solid, unblemished piece.

And... yeah, okay, he UNFORTUNATELY had a point. It wasn’t like he’d cheated. And he probably really didn’t intend for them to jump to conclusions – but Zenitsu still felt like he was about to faint. Whether in relief or pure, unadulterated indignation was yet to be seen.

All he knew was that he hoped Tanjirou caught him.

“I hate you so much right now. You have my utmost respect. How in the actual fuck did you do it?” Zenitsu asked, shuffling over the sit at the table before he actually DID collapse.

“I started by walking backwards in my tracks,” Tanjirou admitted – Inosuke looked like HE was about to faint. “And then I just – walked very carefully. Covered the tracks I did make. I was down-wind the whole time, so I could smell you guys and climb high enough into a tree to hide before you could hear me do it. That was harder than I thought it would be. You guys actually almost caught me a few times – you walked right underneath me. After you guys were gone I just – kept doing the same thing. All the way back.”

“And... why? Exactly?” Zenitsu ventured cautiously.

Tanjirou froze, and looked sheepish for a moment before he answered: “I guess... I just wanted to surprise you guys? Somehow. Hey, Inosuke, don’t you wanna come sit down and eat?”

Inosuke walked over, fell onto his ass at the table, and blankly started dishing up. Tanjirou immediately went into mother-hen mode and fussed to make sure Inosuke was alright – Zentisu just watched silently while he mulled over the explanation.

Well that was... total bullshit. But Zenitsu was so busy trying to decipher the actual reason that he didn’t have the capacity to ask any more questions. If Tanjirou wasn’t gonna tell them, fine. He’d figure it out himself.

But what possible reason did he have to leave him alone with Inosuke in the woods –

-THAT SCHEMING BASTARD.

He was trying to set them up! It was the hunting trip all over again! Only this time there was no warning, so Zenitsu didn’t even have a chance to dodge it.

“Zenitsu? Are you okay?” Tanjirou asked, and broke him out of his thoughts.

Zenitsu smiled at him sweetly. “Yeah. I’m just... glad you’re okay.” he sighed tiredly.

THIS MEANT WAR.

Chapter Text

It was high time Inosuke learned to cook something other than unseasoned bonfire meat.

When Tanjirou had voiced the idea, Inosuke had—of course—chosen tempura.

Now, Tanjirou was the better cook between the lot of them (not including Nezuko), but instead of stepping up to teach Inosuke himself, he’d immediately volunteered Zenitsu for the job.

It had only been a few days since his last disappearing act, and he was already trying this again.

Not on Zenitsu’s watch. Not when he saw an OPPORTUNITY.

“Hmmm... sure, I guess.” He shrugged, started to get up, and then—pretending like the thought had just struck him (well, technically it had, but whatever)—smiled sweetly and said, “Actually, you’re the better cook out of the three of us. Why don’t you teach him, Tanjirou?”

Zenitsu turned to Inosuke and aimed straight for the jugular. “You have to be taught by the best to be the best, right?”

“YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT!” Inosuke bellowed.

“ME?” Tanjirou squeaked.

“Yes, you,” Zenitsu snorted. “Who else?”

“But—I mean—” Tanjirou floundered, hands flapping a little—until realization dawned. He squared his shoulders. “You’re better at teaching, Zenitsu. Isn’t that why you’re the one who ended up teaching him to read and write? I can’t explain things nearly as well as you can.”

Oh. Shit. That was true.

Sure, Tanjirou had the patience for it—but Zenitsu was good at breaking things down. He could explain things simply, clearly, without getting too technical. Tanjirou, on the other hand, had a habit of diving straight into the complicated stuff, leaving Inosuke blinking at him like he hadn’t absorbed a single word.

But Zenitsu was not about to let Tanjirou keep martyring himself.

It was painful to watch.

Zenitsu knocked his fist firmly onto the table. “Now you listen to me, Tanjirou. What you said is true—I’ll admit that—but how are you supposed to improve at teaching if I’m the only one who ever does it? Is friendship not a mutual effort? Is this not the perfect opportunity for you two to bond and grow? As teacher and student? Does Inosuke not deserve to learn, I repeat, from the best?”

“He does—!”

“So why won’t you TEACH ME?” Inosuke cut in, full whine mode. Yes. Yes. This was going perfectly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to—”

“—It’s that you don’t believe in yourself.” Zenitsu nodded solemnly, smugly. “And that’s okay. You’re unpracticed. Inosuke and I will believe in you enough to make up for that. Won’t we, Inosuke?”

“YEAH!” Inosuke bellowed, fist in the air.

“...Then why don’t you help me teach him?” Tanjirou shot back, eyes narrowing.

“I’M SO GLAD YOU ASKED!” Zenitsu doubled down. Where the hell was he going with this?? He had no excuse not to. Well. Too late now. Time to commit. Time to word-vomit.

He shot up in his seat, hands slamming onto the tabletop.

“Uhm. Chores!” he blurted.

“...Which ones?” Tanjirou asked, brow arching.

“...Charcoal! You guys always do the charcoal, and it hasn’t been done this week! Someone has to cook, and Inosuke needs to learn sometime—so I thought I’d go burn the charcoal today!”
What the hell was Zenitsu doing???

“You’ve... never even shown interest in learning how to burn charcoal,” Tanjirou said, looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“I’ve seen you do it!” Zenitsu huffed. “And frankly, I’m appalled you think I have no appreciation for the hard work you do. As your friend. We’re all learning new things today—isn’t that great?! RIGHT, INOSUKE?”

“Yeah?” Inosuke blinked, slowly snapping out of a haze. “Yeah! YEAH! Now we’re all learning!”
He turned to Tanjirou and locked eyes. “We’re equals now.”

“YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT WE ARE!” Zenitsu shouted, way too loud. “OFF I GO!”

As he stepped out the door, he shot Tanjirou a self-satisfied grin. “...Try not to destroy the kitchen, okay?”

Tanjirou was pale as a sheet.

Zenitsu watched him gulp, riding a high of pure smugness.

He shut the door with dramatic finality.

Now.

How the hell do you burn charcoal?

-I!A!O!-

Tanjirou’s stomach dropped the same moment the door slammed shut.

That was a catastrophe. Zenitsu was retaliating now?

...That little—

“...Well? Are we doing this or what?” Inosuke interrupted, arms crossed, foot tapping against the floorboards like a war drum.

Tanjirou mourned his own death in two seconds flat. He’d get Zenitsu for this. Next time.

For now, he pushed up his sleeves and got to work.

“Okay!” Tanjirou clapped—way too loud. “Ingredients first!”

“So what goes in it?”

“We’ll just do vegetables, they’re probably the easiest,” Tanjirou explained, already pulling everything out like a man possessed. He lit the stove. Prepped the pan of oil.

And then realized: He was explaining absolutely nothing.

Where was he supposed to start??

Should he let Inosuke cut the vegetables himself?

He knew how to use a sword, so... that was totally different from the knife skills needed for cooking, wasn’t it?

Tanjirou took a deep breath and smacked a carrot down onto the cutting board. He pulled out a knife and started chopping.

And kept chopping.

Oh. Right. He was supposed to explain what he was doing.

“You want to cut them thinly,” he said tersely.

“Okay. Why?” Inosuke asked.

“So the batter doesn’t burn before it’s finished cooking.”

“What’s ‘batter’?”

Oh shoot. He’d skipped that part, hadn’t he?

Damn it. And it was important, too.

“It’s flour, egg, and water mixed together. You dip the vegetables in it before you fry them.”

Inosuke’s mouth fell open in a soft “oh.”
“Let me make that!” he declared—and immediately grabbed an egg and threw it into a bowl. Eggshell and all.

Tanjirou kept forgetting he was working with a blank canvas here.

He could only watch—horrified—as the egg cracked and splattered everywhere.

“Inosuke. The shell. You have to separate the inside from the shell.”

“Then what makes it crunchy?”

“It’s crunchy because you have to use cold batter. Which means you should’ve put that bowl inside another bowl filled with cold water. I cannot stress this enough—eggshells are not why tempura is crunchy.”

Inosuke slowly turned back to the bowl. "...Then why didn’t you tell me that first?"

Tanjirou paused. Why hadn’t he?

“I didn’t... think it needed to be said?”

“Why would you think THAT didn’t need to be said?!”

“I thought it was just... common sense—”

“Zenitsu always says I don’t have that, and that’s why learning new things takes me so fucking long!” Inosuke replied—just a little panicked, but still oddly enthused.

“He said that to you?” Tanjirou asked, visibly affronted.

“Yeah! So I’ll just learn common sense! Then I can do this stuff way better than he can! That’ll show him!”

Tanjirou’s heart stopped.

Zenitsu really was good with Inosuke.

Apparently, being blunt was probably the best way to help him understand it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know things everyone else seemed to. Of course he wouldn’t take it as an insult—if you said it right, he’d see it as a challenge. You had to speak to him on his level.

And Tanjirou was failing. Miserably.

He knew this was a bad idea.

“I’m going to get Zenitsu,” he said flatly, stomping toward the door. “He’ll teach you better than I can.”

Then Inosuke caught him by the back of his haori—suddenly, the air felt heavy.

“Listen to me,” Inosuke growled. “We will NOT be defeated by tempura. Not after all the battles we’ve fought and won—together! Don’t you dare give up on me. Or yourself. You’re doing GREAT! We’re both LEARNING things! I know I’ve at least learned something! Haven’t you?!”

He yanked Tanjirou back and bodily repositioned him in front of the counter.

“Yeah, but—”

“I don’t care if you suck at this now. You’ll get better. That is a threat.”

“I really don’t think—”

“You are not a coward, Tanjirou! So why are you running away like one?!”

...Huh.

He really was being a coward, wasn’t he? First sign of trouble, and he almost bailed. And that felt... shameful. Like he was wasting Inosuke’s fire. His faith.

Tanjirou glanced over—Inosuke stood there, puffed up and proud. And for a moment, it hurt to think all that pride was aimed at him.

“Let’s... fry the hell out of some vegetables, then,” he said, with more confidence than he felt.

-I!A!O!-

The tempura turned out GREAT.

Zenitsu was just being judgemental. ‘...This is so unevenly cut.’ ‘It’s very... spongy!’ ‘You tried! I’m sure you’ll do better next time!’

Bwah. It was AMAZING because Inosuke had made it, and Inosuke was AMAZING. Everything else was just opinions.

Zenitsu pulled something out from between his teeth. “Is that an eggshell?” he muttered.

“Hey, I got most of them out! The rest are just for flavour,” Inosuke declared proudly. “We made this! With our hands!”

“Overall? You did better than I expected you to,” Zenitsu shrugged, gnawing on one of the especially crunchy mushrooms. “Tanjirou? Why aren’t you eating? You look a little sad over there, just staring at your dinner.”

Inosuke turned.

Sure enough, Tanjirou hadn’t touched his food. Just sat there, looking at it. Or at least, it looked like he was. Inosuke had a weird feeling he wasn’t really seeing it at all.

It was the same way he’d stared at that puddle of blood after they killed the deer—

Was it happening again?

“Tanjirou,” he said firmly. He was met with a blank stare—eyes wide, but distant. “Remember what you promised?”

“Oh.” Tanjirou blinked, like waking from a dream. “It’s not— I’m not feeling weird like that! I’m just... really proud of you, Inosuke. You did really well.”

That was definitely the truth. But it wasn’t just about the tempura, was it? Now he felt weird.

“I CRUSHED IT!” Inosuke roared, throwing his arms into the air. His voice had all the usual thunder and glory.

So why did it feel like his heart wasn’t entirely in it?

Still... at least Tanjirou hadn’t lied. He hadn’t said he was fine. Maybe he didn’t have all the common sense, either. And maybe that was okay.

They could all learn it together.

Chapter Text

Inosuke doesn’t remember what stupid shit started the argument, but he’d seen it coming for days now. All he knew was that it had started brewing at the same time as the tempura, and that this time it was definitely about him.

Even he wasn’t dumb enough to miss THAT. Not with the way they’d been juggling him around between each other, like he was some goddamn sun-baked hot rock.

One of them would suggest the other drags Inosuke off to do fuck knows what, and then they’d get into some weird reverse tug-of-war about who HAS to be the one dealing with him that day until one of them gave up.

If they didn’t want him around, why wouldn’t they just say it to his face?

What was the point of all the too-sharp smiles, the blazing stares, the shallow and absurd words they threw at each other that neither of them meant? They just got more intense as they days passed by and Inosuke was getting – tired. He was so fucking tired.

He’d tried to help better this time, he DID. Instead of shoving them in a room and yelling at them like last time, he butt out. Let them sort it out between themselves. Tried to just out last it.

When that didn’t help, he tried to think what Nezuko would have done. Keep them fed. Made sure they slept. Make sure they took care of themselves. He didn’t have to say anything profound – she usually didn’t – he just sort of. Needed to be there for them?

But that apparently wasn’t the right move, either.

Not if the current headache-inducing screaming match was anything to go by.

“I helped him LAST TIME. Remember? Do you remember Tanjirou? Because I DO!” Zenitsu’s shrill voice rang out in the clearing.

Inosuke could not even fathom how they all ended up outside. They were just in the same general area of each other for TEN STUPID MINUTES and Inosuke’s skin crawled in exasperated anticipation before he just braced for impact.

“Just. DO IT!” Tanjirou yelled with an intensity he had always only seemed to keep for demons. It scared away the nearby birds and sent a crackling jolt into the air that Inosuke could physically feel run up his spine.

ENOUGH.

“HERE’S A WILD IDEA!” Inosuke snapped. “HOW ABOUT I JUST DO IT BY MYSELF!”

WHATEVER the fuck it was he was supposed to do. He’d do ANYTHING at this point.

“Inosuke – we’re talking!” Tanjirou dismissed offhandedly, like Inosuke was a misbehaving child.

“OH so now HE can’t speak for himself, EITHER? Do you even— do you hear yourself these days?!” Zenitsu laughed dangerously, arms flailing all over the place in choppy, angry gestures. Like he was boiling so hot he just couldn’t stand still anymore.

So now they were just fighting about Inosuke, and ignoring him at the same time?

Inosuke felt like he might actually puke.

What, in the actual fuck, did they take him for?

“I DON’T NEED A DAMN BABYSITTER! YOU TWO DO! You know what – forget it! I’m gonna go kill something for dinner – DON’T EVEN START I’M DOING IT ALONE! – when I get back you guys better have your shit together!” Inosuke bellowed, shooting up from his seat on the ground. He felt sick, and unwelcome, and just so -

Was there even a word for this feeling? It felt so... small. Like his body was too big for him.

All Inosuke got was a brief moment where they both looked at him in surprise – and then they were back to glaring at each other. Tanjirou took a breath and geared himself to keep arguing.

Why was Inosuke even still here?

He kicked the nearest rock at full force and just stalked off into the woods, loudly cursing them both under his breath.

-I!A!O!-

“GREAT! Now Inosuke thinks THIS is his fault,” Zenitsu barked, head thrown to the sky and arms outstretched like only holy intervention could save them now. “Could things get any better?!”

“We should -!” Tanjirou started, already moving to go after Inosuke.

Zenitsu yanked him back with an iron grip on his wrist.

“OH NO. You are NOT going after him. First you brush him off when he tries to actually say something’s wrong, and NOW you’re just gonna ignore him when he’s asking for space to fucking breathe? Just think a little bit longer about what you’re doing before you go crashing in head-first!”

“But what if he -”

“NO! HE DOESN’T WANT US AROUND RIGHT NOW! And can you even blame him? We keep getting into the stupidest arguments – in front of him! - and use him as the reason for it! Why would he want us to follow him when we JUST drove him away?”

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

Zenitsu felt like he got the wind knocked out of him with a sucker punch.

Tanjirou sounded so desperate, so compulsed by the need to fix things NOW. He looked at Zenitsu with such wide, pleading eyes – like Zenitsu was hurting him by not letting him bulrush a problem that required more finesse and patience than he had to spare right now.

Zenitsu knew that panic. He’s felt it. He lives it.

And he had to learn the hard way that making choices while you’re in that state of mind only leads to you breaking something. There was no way in HELL he was letting Tanjirou pave his way to ruin with misplaced good intentions anymore.

“Will you please STOP! You’ve done enough, Tanjirou - you’re not responsible for everyone’s personal well-being! You can let people handle their own shit – they’re not gonna break just because you weren’t there to catch them!”

Tanjirou’s face scrunched like he was confused. Like it didn’t make sense to him. He finally broke Zenitsu’s hold.

“Is this about me helping you two get together?”

Zenitsu’s head felt so light from the pump of blood and adrenaline. He didn’t know how to make his hands stop shaking, so he balled them into fists at his side.

“Yeah.” He said calmly. “It’s about you PUSHING us together. And so much more than that. Why do you have to – the only thing you’ve ever allowed yourself to take because you wanted it is REVENGE. It nearly killed you! WE almost had to kill you! Want something good for yourself, just for once!”

“I’m just trying to help you! Why won’t you let me help you?!” Tanjirou begged, words breaking into a desperate cry.

“Because – you self-mutilating mother fucker—you’re not treating us like people! You’re treating us like a – like a pair of idiots who can’t think and feel for themselves! And you’re not even doing it for our good. Do you really think if it was for the best, it would have turned out like THIS?” Zenitsu wailed, gesturing widely at everything.

“I’m not-!”

“You’re trying to manipulate us into something you can use to hurt yourself with! Does that REALLY sound like good intentions to you, Tanjirou? You’re not being noble – you’re being selfish!” Zenitsu seethed through clenched teeth.

Tanjirou just stared back at him with wide, wet, unblinking eyes. His jaw slack and wobbling just the slightest bit with every breath he took as they got shakier. It tensed when he gulped and didn’t relax again.

“I just-” he started, voice barely above a breath. “I just wanted to make you guys happy.”

Zenitsu deflated like a wilting plant. He didn’t have the energy for this anymore. If Tanjirou wanted to keep trying to justify it to himself like that, then fine.

What a way to learn that you can’t help someone who doesn’t want it.

“Well. You didn’t.”

-I!A!O!-

Inosuke knew, even before he got back to the house, that things had only gotten worse.

It was quiet now, yeah, but if didn’t feel right. Everything was too still. Too heavy.

It dragged at the corners of his eyes with a hazy heat – like that feeling you got from a fever that just made you want to slip into blissful sleep.

His hands were caked in dried blood and dirt. The damn rabbit had been determined to outrun him. Even now, it kept sliding off his shoulder— taunting him.

"Just try to catch me one more time ," it whispered, with sweet poison in a voice that sounded far too familiar but refused to be placed. "I might be dead, but you won’t trap me again."

Inosuke paused at the tree-line with a sigh that was doing it’s utmost best to sound like a growl.

Tanjirou and Zenitsu weren’t yelling any more. Instead they tried really hard to pretend they were alone here. Just existing as far away from each other as they possibly could while still sharing the same space – like two moths circling a flame.

They’d both staked their claim on something they refused to let go of, and now they were stuck in this bruised, bloody truce where they shared it without ever meeting eyes.

Inosuke felt like a tree planted right on the line between two animal’s territories. Not important enough to fight for—but still pissed on, out of principle.

He didn’t bother trying to be heard again. He just stalked over to the fire pit and started skinning and gutting his kill.

At some point, he’d lit a fire and cooked it. He didn’t know when or how. But there was freshly roasted—still bloody—meat between his teeth, and he wasn’t physically alone at the pit.

He must’ve broken off and handed out pieces at some point. How else were Tanjirou and Zenitsu also chewing it?

He didn’t remember them sitting down. Didn’t remember the crunch of bone or the tear of flesh in his hands. But clearly, it had happened.

Just another thing he’d done for them so often, it didn’t even register as important.

How many times did he do his best to compromise for them now? He couldn’t even put his finger on which actions he did because he’d learned it from them, but he knew they were there. Imprinted on him, somewhere deep inside where he couldn’t reach and tear it out – even though he wanted to do it so badly.

He couldn’t make himself be what he used to be. Not purely. Not anymore.

The realization twisted in his gut like a knife.

Next thing he knows, they’re all in their own separate bedrolls, and he’s staring up at the ceiling—another thing he’d only started doing because of them. Trying to lie still. Trying not to fidget. As if it didn’t make his skin crawl. As if staying still didn’t make his bones feel like they were shaking apart.

Like he didn’t want to peel himself out of his own body and scream—just so maybe, maybe, one of them would stay awake with him for once.

Just to keep him company.

The thought of wanting that – needing it – suddenly felt so bizarre. When did that become a normal thing for him? He used to be FINE on his own. GREAT, even. But they’d crept up on him when he wasn’t paying attention, fed him treats and praise, lulled him into a sense of safety and –

Tamed him.

Like a pet.

He was even doing tricks for their approval.

Sleeping when they told him. Eating what they made. Holding back when they got scared. He bent in ways he never used to—bit his tongue until it bled, all so they wouldn’t flinch. But it still wasn’t good enough, was it?

So again, he asks himself: Why am I still even here?

What’s left for him in a space where he can’t even hurt right without stepping on someone else’s toes?

“Maybe plenty,” that same voice whispers again. “You’ve seen glimpses of it. But do you really have what it takes to see the whole beast? Look it in the eyes?”

Inosuke swallowed around a lump in his throat. He eyed his shoes by the door. The sheathed knife he now carried instead of a sword.

People always told him there was a first time for everything.

Maybe it was about time he admitted defeat in something.

He left his bed quietly, grabbed his knife and his shoes, and opened the door just enough for him to slip through. He had one foot out the door before something stopped him.

He stepped back inside. Let himself look at them—really look.

Neither Tanjirou nor Zenitsu snored. Just quiet breathing. Peaceful.

They had gone to bed with their backs turned to each other. In their sleep they had turned over, hands resting on the sliver of floor that separated them – like they were reaching for each other. Even when, if they were awake, they’d be holding each other by the throats.

Something warm bloomed in his chest. But the aftertaste was bitter.

Moving like he wasn’t even in his own body, his hands reached for a blank scrap of paper and a brush. He uncorked a bottle of ink and the residue on the lid splattered lightly over the sheet.

There was not enough light to write with, but he tried to make it legible as he could with nothing but muscle memory.

‘Need to think.’

He scribbles out. It... didn’t feel like enough. There was a word people used for when they did this, wasn’t there?

‘Going ‘camping’?

That should be good enough, right? He didn’t know how to properly say goodbye, but this seemed... pathetic. Like he couldn’t make up his mind about whether or not he was coming back.

...Was he coming back? At all?

He dropped the brush like it bit him. It landed head first on the paper, leaving a nasty black blob on it.

He was about to step off the engawa, about to just leave it there. But who was he kidding anymore?

He was done playing his own fool – chasing his tail like an idiot. If he couldn’t be honest with himself, then who else was there to trust?

He slipped his shoes off and snuck back in quietly for the third time.

‘Be back.’

He made sure the door didn’t make a single noise as he finally closed it behind him.

Chapter Text

‘Need to think.

Went “camping”?

Be back.’

The note wasn’t signed, but the inexperienced handwriting and curt wording was unmistakeably Inosuke.

Zenitsu just stared at it for a long time. Tried to keep from freaking out.

He said he’d come back. Eventually. And who else could you trust to mean what they say than Inosuke?

Zenitsu didn’t feel angry. Not really. Just… hollow. He understood. Too much, maybe. The air that had settled over the house when he and Tanjirou had found the note scratched at his skin uncomfortably – he could only imagine how it must have felt for Inosuke. Of course he’d need some room to just breathe.

It was just an unfortunate consequence of that friction that must have made him feel like he had to do it without saying goodbye properly.

The kettle screeched as the water reached boiling point.

Tanjirou walked around like he was in a haze. The noise seemed to startle him – eyes flicking to the stove faster than any other movement he’d made that morning. He stood like he was being crushed by gravity itself, and nearly forgot to use a cloth to lift the burning kettle off of the stove.

Zenitsu watched as he poured them each a cup of tea like the familiarity of the gesture might actually help. Maybe it did, for Tanjirou.

They sat on opposite ends of the table, hunched and marinating in the tension that clung to them like second skins. Zenitsu sipped his tea, carefully looking up from the table-top over to Tanjirou.

He sat like he was freezing – curled in on himself – held his cup like it was a life-line. Eyes glazed over and cold as he gazed into his tea like he was trying to read something in the leaves.

He wanted to wrap him in a blanket. Pet his hair. Hold him so tight the cracks couldn’t spread. But he knew all he could do was sit by him, if he’d even allow that.

Because the moment Zenitsu moved, he knew Tanjirou would flinch—like comfort itself was salt on an open wound.

He’s just be shrugged off, and it already left a trail of ice up his spine. He stayed where he was, and chased it down with more tea.

Maybe Inosuke wasn’t the only one who needed space. Maybe they all did. Zenitsu didn’t want to leave Tanjirou—didn’t want to walk away from someone already broken and bleeding. But, the quiet, and everything that led to it, was squeezing the breath from his lungs with every passing second.

...One more chance, maybe? One more full-bodied try at building a bridge. Zenitsu felt like he could handle that particular sting of rejection at least one more time. He just hoped he didn’t have to.

“It’s not just your fault, you know. This didn’t happen because you weren’t strong enough, or smart enough, or brave enough. We both pushed him into this.”

Zenitsu looked down at his tea, now gone cold. He wanted to believe it helped. That it mattered. That the effort meant something.

Tanjirou didn’t react at all. It seemed like he was barely even breathing, too stuck in the muck and mire he climbed into and tried to wrap around himself. Zenitsu wished he could just find a crack in that shell somewhere so he could at least brush his fingertips over something he could grab on to.

He rubbed his thumb along the rim of his teacup, back and forth, back and forth, as if wearing a groove into porcelain might give him something to hold onto.

Zenitsu sighed shakily. He’d be a hypocrite to expect Tanjirou to crack open his own ribs and expose his beating heart if Zenitsu wouldn’t do the same.

“Do you know what it feels like?” He started, hating just how fragile he sounded. “To have someone you care about use you as the knife they cut themself with? And have them insist that it’s all for you? Like—like it’s a gift, somehow.”

The question slithered and tightened around his throat like a snake, almost choking him before he could finish it. He looked around for something to latch on to – anything other than the absolute nothing Tanjirou gave him.

He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He wanted to scream and cry and shake Tanjirou by the shoulders until he at least looked up from that damned teacup. But, what would it help? At this point he would just blankly take it like it was all he deserved.

“It... really fucking hurts.” Zenitsu continued quietly. “For so many reasons. Because it doesn’t mean nothing when someone just does that for you without even being asked. Without needing to. They just do it because they think that’s all they have that’s worth giving. And I don’t – I don’t want that for you, Tanjirou. Don’t rip yourself apart because you think that’s what’s best for everyone.
It doesn’t save people. It doesn’t make them love you. It just teaches them to watch you bleed and call it kindness. I didn’t ask to be -!” Zenitsu’s throat closed around the words like they were broken glass. There was a warm sting in his eyes that just lingered there – he wished it would either spill over or stop entirely.

Tanjirou still sat like a statue – unresponsive and unthinking. But Zenitsu decided to keep going. To trust that he was at least being heard a little bit.

“How could I possibly live with myself with that hanging over me? You never – you never even gave me a choice in it! You just smiled at me, and suddenly my hands were covered in the blood you coughed up. I never asked for that. I didn’t even see it coming. One moment you’re standing there—fine, I thought—and the next, you’re bleeding all over me like it was my job to catch it. Would you be able to go on like that? Watching someone that means – so much to you just – disappear one piece at a time? Knowing you didn’t—couldn’t do anything but watch them slowly fade away?”

Tanjirou took a deep, shaky breath – and that was all he did. He didn’t make a noise, didn’t shift his eyes away from the same goddamn spot they’d been at this entire time – he didn’t even blink. It was like talking to a corpse. The sting was settling in like venom in Zenitsu’s veins.

There was really nothing he could say to get through to Tanjirou right now. He’s tested the waters, and they would freeze him to death. How was he supposed to help someone stay afloat when he was drowning, too?

He wished he could find a way to do it. He wished he could give Tanjirou back the pieces he was missing – even if he had to cut them out of his own being. But Zenitsu wasn’t built for that. He’d collapse at the first cut. He didn’t have Tanjirou’s ridiculously unfair will power.

Zenitsu was used to feeling like a coward – but the guilt that came with choosing your own well being over someone you were close to? That burned like nothing else. Even when you knew it was best for both of you in the long run.

The first tear welled over and spilled freely. He swallowed the rest down. Cleared his throat so he could say this right.

“I think – yeah. Maybe the three of us just do need some space – away from each other. Just for a little while. Maybe it’ll. Help? At least smooth things over a little – this isn’t over. I’m – WE’RE not giving up on you. But you have to believe me—we’re not made of cold steel. We’re flesh and bone. So every time you beat yourself bloody, guess what? We get bruised too.”

Zenitsu carefully placed his empty teacup to the side. Folded his hands together in front of himself to give him something to hold.

“I’m going to stay at the inn in the village for a few days. Maybe a week. I just – I need some time.”

“If you feel like you need to leave because that’s what’s best for you, then do it. I’m not gonna stop you, Zenitsu.”

Tanjirou’s voice came out steady, even when it cracked from a lack of use. Something in him dropped—hard and fast—like he’d been cut loose from a great height.

After all of that stubborn silence, after doing his best to bleed on the altar with Tanjirou just enough so it wasn’t all on him – that was what he got? Dismissal? After everything, that was all he had to say? No protest, no plea to stay? Just—go, if you must?

Zenitsu stood like his legs weren’t used to gravity any more. Tried not to collapse as he slowly packed a bag. Tried to remember what he’d need to take with. After he was done, he took a moment to build himself up enough that he could at least manage to walk away.

He threw his bag over his shoulder and took it one step at a time, pausing in the doorway to look back. Tanjirou still hadn’t moved.

Maybe he couldn’t lead him out of the dark, but he could at least leave him a lantern somewhere in there.

“Tanjirou. We’re both coming back. So please – PLEASE – Just... don’t give up on yourself while we’re gone. Even if it’s not for us. Do it for anything. Anyone. I don’t care what. Just—stay. We’ll be back soon.”

He stood and studied Tanjirou for another minute, hoping, begging and praying for any sign of life.

Any reason not to go.

He wasn’t going to find it.

The door shut softly behind him. The sun was bright and warm, not even at it’s peak yet. The stark contrast to what he was feeling left him feeling tired and small.

He pushed it down, and started on the trail down the mountain.

-I!A!O!-

It echoed through every breath he took, so he tried to take as few as he could. Only giving in after his lungs started to burn.

It played behind his eyelids, too, so he opted to try and not blink either.

And strangely the light still managed to shift it’s position without Tanjirou noticing. Every time he remembered to sip his tea the room looked different. Darker. Emptier.

He went to refill his cup again – and ended up with the final, bitter dredges. He’d finished the pot.

He should. He should wash that, probably. Tidy up a little. Put things back in their place.

That... seemed about right.

So he gets up and methodically washes and dries the tea set, before putting it back exactly where it belonged. He gave the loose debris of daily life a place. He folded and put away loose clothes. Made the beds. Swept the floor.

Went to get water from the well for tea tomorrow.

Full bucket in hand, he stares into the refractions of the dying light as they played in the surface of the water, gearing himself up to go back inside.

The water has stilled. He didn’t see himself in the reflection looking back at him.

...Of course he knew what it was like to watch someone you love wither into a memory. He’d watched it happen to his father, and he’d hated every second of it.

Built who he was on a foundation of ways he didn’t want to make other people feel. And then somehow cursed them to witness it anyway.

He even put his own fucked up little twist to it.

Tanjirou didn’t like the way the reflection twisted and moulded into something empty and ugly.

So the bucket was sent soaring through the air to clatter against an open window. The shutter rattled against the wall at the impact.

The sound grated on his nerves, so he grabbed it and tugged until he ripped it off it’s hinges only to throw it to the ground and kick it away. He stomped inside.

Threw the table through the closed door for daring to slam too loudly while his nerves felt like they were both freezing and on fire.

And fuck it. Maybe it really bothered him how the one cupboard in the kitchen was sagging and gradually becoming less stable, less usable. What was the point of it even being there?

So he ripped and pried at it until the support gave out – AND THERE GOES THE PORCELAIN TEA SET.

SMASHED INTO HUNDREDS OF PIECES ON THE FLOOR ALL AROUND HIM.

But it was fine right? Because even if you use something every day, if it’s no longer usable – fuck it! Throw it away! Leave him by himself, in the stifling silence of his childhood home, surrounded by everything that ever felt like pain!

Why not? He – IT – was just... broken.

And he didn’t know how to fix it! And he blamed it on the pots, so he hurled them against the walls to see if it would leave dents!

IT DID!

And now he’s destroyed everything that ever held any sentimental value to him.

The last pot clattered onto the floor as it dropped out of his hand.

He made a mess. He should feel bad.

He didn’t know a name for what he felt. It had sung through him a minute ago, buzzing over his skin. And then it had just... left him. And he didn’t feel whole anymore. Felt like he never actually did – he’d just been peddling himself snake oil this entire time.

And he’d gulped it down with every ounce of greed he had in him.

He collapsed onto his back over his futon. Right in the middle.

He just stared at the ceiling until his eyes betrayed him and couldn’t stay open anymore.

Chapter Text

Tanjirou had been drifting through the house in the same pattern for days.

He’d wake up—and immediately regret it, lying there for hours, unmoving.

Eventually, he’d drag himself out of bed and make some tea in a steel pot. Leave it to steep too long as he stared at where a cupboard used to be. Pour into a tin cup after realizing it had been boiling too long. Hold it in his hands like it was the only warmth he had left. Sit on the floor where the table used to be. Stare at the dents in the wall. Regret, because he couldn’t remember why he put them there in the first place.

Take a sip of his tea before it’s cooled down enough and feel it burn in his throat.

Finish the pot slowly after it’s gone cold. Never take out the tea leaves. It’s bitter and disgusting but he swallows it down anyway.

Crawl back onto his bed when the crickets startled him out of his own head. Never under the blankets. Always cold. Always fucking shaking.

Time passed, probably. He knew it wouldn’t stop for him, but he didn’t care.

He didn’t know how many days had passed. He didn’t know what day it was because every time he glanced at the calendar out of habit he felt like he forgot it as he was busy reading it.

He hadn’t had the capacity to keep track. It goes dark, and then there was too much goddamn light. And it kept repeating in patterns that didn’t feel right.

He just knew the sun was high in the sky now, and that his teacup had leached all the warmth out of him and dared to go cold, too, anyway.

There was a gnawing, toothless thing in the back of his skull today—a low, keening anxiety that hadn’t been there before.

What made today different from yesterday? He was still... alone. But it felt less endless. Less like a promise and more like a threat.

And he was still haunting the wreckage of his childhood home like a lost ghost. Watching. Only existing enough to leave the smallest of traces.

Why did it feel like he was forgetting something that actually managed to matter now?

The sun was lower, and lower in the sky every time he blinked like he forgot he needed to do that, too.

He was still trying to piece it together when he heard hooves crunching over gravel—the creak of wooden wheels steadily growing louder.

Horses pulling a carriage, he realized faintly.

And then, not so faintly.

Nezuko.

“Shit!” he breathed, his chest tightening as he frantically scanned the room around him—Nezuko was coming back today. How had he forgotten? The house was still a mess - he hadn’t cleaned a god forsaken thing. And there were eyes on the way to see it.

Fuck.

He frantically zipped around, trying his best to clean up the barest little bit so it wouldn’t be so horrible, and somehow ended up making it WORSE.

His hands found the crown of his head and his fingers crooked into the greasy strands. Breath hitching and leaving and he was trying his best to keep it at bay while he was suddenly swallowed whole in the open ocean.

The carriage stopped. A door creaked open slowly and carefully.

It was too late. There was no way to hide any of it. No way to cover it with a bow and pass it off as a decorative choice. No way to make it look like an accident.

And Nezuko was going to see all of it. Every broken thing that had rebelled and made a home on the surface in her absence.

He wasn’t ready for this.

He was going to have to face it anyway.

Tanjirou took a slow breath through his teeth, steeled himself against the pain, and bolted outside with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

His knees nearly buckled when he saw her—standing there in the fading dusk, thanking the driver like she was the last beam of sunlight in the fading dusk.

As the carriage pulled away, Nezuko turned with a smile warm enough to melt stone.

Then she looked at him. Looked at the wreckage of a storm behind him. Looked back at him with widening, saddening eyes.

And her smile wobbled then shattered.

She looked devastated.

Tanjirou must’ve looked terrible—he hadn’t even considered that far. He should have done – SOMETHING about that before coming outside – he should have -

But he barreled forward like nothing was wrong, like momentum could fill in the cracks before they opened too far, exposed too much. He threw his arms around her in a hug, hoping it could somehow chase away the sudden burning ache in his chest.

“Nezuko! You’re back!” he sighed into her soft hair.

Because he refused to admit it was supposed to be a sob.

She held him back immediately— wrapping around him in an embrace so tight it showed she was seeing something break in real time – trying to push it all back into place with determination alone .

She knew she was the only thing holding him together.

But then, too soon, before he was even nearly prepared for it, she stepped back.

Her hands rose to try and smooth over the mess of his hair. Her hands were so warm. Then she gently cupped his face—anchoring him in place as she just looked at him for a long, steady breath. Tanjirou felt like an insect being studied by something that meant well, but was still so big and scary you couldn’t even comprehend it fully. You just knew something was watching you, seeing you.

“Tanjirou, you look exhausted... What’s wrong?” She said, kindly but firmly, and so, so very unafraid.

That was the final nail in his coffin. The final branch breaking off of an old tree after the forest fire has burned the rest of it down.

Before he even knew it, fat, hot tears began to fall—one at a time, dribbling down his face and his neck in a warm trail—soaking his collar. The sound of some distant, dying animal tore from his throat. He couldn’t breathe. His voice cracked.

“I fucked up,” he hiccupped. “Nezuko—I fucked up so bad.”

And the river burst through the damn, violent and unforgiving.

He yanked her into another hug, tighter than the first, and buried his face in the crook of her neck—refusing to let go. Refusing to be seen any further.

The soothing circles she rubbed into his back ran over it like a knife covered in balm. She shushed him like the gentle rattle of a window while you hid from the world under the covers.

Funny.

He hadn’t been able to cry this whole time.

Now, he couldn’t stop.

- I!A!O!-

Nezuko hummed while she cleaned the burned and caked-on leaves in the ‘tea pot’. Something quiet and unobtrusive as she rinsed it out and poured in fresh water, added new leaves in a measured amount and placed it on the stove.

She swept up the broken shards of porcelain on the floor while she waited, started to put the pots and pans away.

She never stopped humming that calming tune. Tanjirou hadn’t heard it before. He couldn’t place it. But he buried himself in it – it felt more like home than the oppressive silence had.

She’d asked him to bring the table in after he’d cried himself out and they moved inside. Somehow it was still functional, if a little wobbly. The one leg had shifted out of place. He’d kept himself busy by trying to knock it back - but now it was just loose. Unstable if you put too much weight on it.

Nezuko steps carefully around the side with the broken leg, and takes her seat at the end of the table – diagonally across from him. Closer than the opposite side would be - so he wouldn’t freeze from the distance - and just far away enough for him to sit with his face comfortably in his palms - so he had enough space to breathe. She gently places a cup in front of him, holding it long enough to be confident it wouldn’t break the table’s precarious balance, and held her own in her hands.

“ I’m – so sorry. I didn’t mean -” He stopped abruptly, voice never raising above a croaked whisper.

He’d started speaking without thinking about what he was going to say, and now that he was trying to all he was met with was mist slipping past his fingers. How does he even explain how things ended up like they did? How does he properly apologise for ripping apart something that belonged to the both of them with his own unthinking hands?

She didn’t say anything, let him take his time to think. Watched him start to shake. He looked anywhere else but her to make it easier but she was always in his peripheral vision, warm and patient. Like a beacon that just shone a little bit too bright when you were used to having your eyes shaded, like something you flinch from on instinct before it registers that it doesn’t even hurt.

Nezuko confidently placed her teacup on the table then slowly stood up, and for a second Tanjirou had the horrible thought that she might hug him again when he felt so raw from the last one – But she didn’t move towards him. Not yet.

She picked up one of the neatly folded blankets and shook it out first, before she walked back to her spot with purpose and intent.

He watched her cautiously through the whole thing, and then she threw the blanket over him, so that hung over his head and down to the floor. He did nothing about it.

It felt... safer. Still not good, but safer.

He heard the shuffling of fabric as she sat back down, and he pulled the blanket tighter around him

“There we go. I’m not even here. You’re just talking out loud. No-one needs to hear you until you’re ready for them to listen. Is that better?” She asked, only loud enough to be heard.

Something in Tanjirou’s chest lifted, just the slightest bit. Even with just a meagre bit of the weight being lifted so easily, it gave him what felt like the first fresh breath he’s taken in years.

He could think a bit clearer now, slow his thoughts down into something he could process, even if it still took him a while. He didn’t have to reach, he just needed to let go.

So he took a long, slow, deep breath, and pretended to trust that it could keep him upright.

“I’m... not sure what to say. Thank you – for this. And for still being here. I appreciate you trying, I really do, I just don’t know how to do this. I’ve – I’ve never... felt like I needed to learn. I just... how do you know if someone is strong enough to carry you when you can’t be anything but dead weight? ” He started, confessing into his little bubble of darkness.

She didn’t answer him at first, but he wanted her to. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Anything. Something that numbed the sting of letting someone suck the poison out of you.

Even when she couldn’t see him plainly and openly, she still managed to notice when he needed something. Just like she always did, even when he refused to acknowledge that she was doing it because it made his skin crawl.

“You saw me change, once. You saw me become something that lashed out and tried to bite with sharpened teeth. Something that wanted to do that because it was running on instinct alone. You looked right at me, exactly as I was in that moment, and you saw me for who I was under it anyway. You didn’t even flinch, you just held me even as I tried to eat you. And then you kept me safe. Looked after me when I couldn’t do it myself. All because you loved me. Why would I turn away from you when the shoe is on the other foot? I love you, too.”

She gave him a moment to digest that. To really chew on it and taste it, let it nurse the slowly glowing ember in his heart.

Then she handed him something to warm it further.

“I don’t know how to be sure if someone will be strong enough that you can need them. I’ll just choose to trust that they’ll try to drag me where I need to go if they have to. Even if things are just as bad for them – it’s a lot easier to walk when you lean on each other.”

His breath caught. More tears welled. He tried something new, and welcomed them this time, even though it felt awkward and made him itch where he could never reach to scratch. Somehow he still felt like he could walk steadily despite all of it .

He lifted the blanket just enough that he could look at her for a second. She was smiling so softly, and not even as a reaction. It was like she’d been looking at him like that the whole time, even while he was nothing but a lump hunched over a rickety table.

He tried to smile back, didn’t care if it looked off. He lowered the blanket again and pulled his tea under it with him. It tasted so much lighter and gentler than what he’d been serving himself.

So like that, he just started talking about what happened out loud, and pretended she wasn’t physically there so he could ease the shame .

Chapter Text

Watching the stars had always made Tanjirou feel small—but not in a way that hurt. It grounded him, kept him humble.

They reminded him that he, and everyone else, were nothing more than infinitesimal specks of dust caught in a desert storm of memory and wind . The thought eased him—because if that was true, then every impossible, all-encompassing crisis in his life was just as fleeting, just as small.

Even when it wrapped around his ribs and squeezed until he could barely breathe, even when it felt endless—it was only one moment in time. A single grain of sand.

It would pass, when the time was right.

All he had to do was endure this one sliver of time in the hourglass of his lifespan.

He wondered, not for the first time, how long this sliver would last.

Nezuko was right, after all, it was exhausting him.

But on the roof, in the dead of night while everyone slept, he didn’t have to pretend it wasn’t.

The stars didn’t care.

They held no judgement—whether he failed or succeeded—it didn’t matter to them. Their silence was gentle, and their presence soothing in a way that defied explanation. Up here, there were no expectations. No responsibilities. He didn’t have to do anything. He was allowed to simply exist, exactly as he was.

It reminded him of his sister—when he felt too much like a coward to ask for her comfort, he could rely on the sky to hold him steady in a way that felt so similar – only more isolated.

He didn’t have to hide the parts of himself that were sharp, jagged, and ugly right now—didn’t have to tuck them away so they wouldn’t lash out and cut someone who didn’t deserve it.

It was fine if he lost pieces of himself while he tried to keep his head above water—so long as everyone else stayed whole. He could bear that.

He was afraid that if he ever gave in, if he let himself start taking instead of giving, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Afraid he’d grow greedy with the comfort, desperate to become one with everything he longed for—and ruin it all in the process—until there was nothing left but him, alone, clinging to the wreckage.

What would that make him?

What DID that turn him into while he wasn’t paying attention?

There had been so many instances of almost—so many moments when he stood on the edge of saying something. Times when he nearly asked—begged—for someone to hold his hand, when what he really needed was for them to piece together all the broken pieces he kept hidden under masks and redirection.

And he was shocked every time they caught a glimpse of that, and immediately ran to catch him.

Inosuke in the kitchen, stumbling through a pep talk with egg all over his face and determination in his heart—not understanding what the problem was but trying to fix it anyway.

Tanjirou had let himself want for that brief moment, and it had shaken him.

Zenitsu lovingly tearing into him. Screaming as he held up the metaphorical mirror so Tanjirou could see what he was actually doing. He’d begged him to stop because it was agony to watch him hurt himself.

Tanjirou had really looked, then. Forced himself to keep eye-contact with what he saw, and because of it he’d let himself break in a way that felt freeing – even if it was just a moment.

Nezuko, throwing a blanket over his head so he could hide but staying close by so he had a witness he could pretend wasn’t there.

Tanjirou hadn’t even told her everything, just given her the facts and how they’d played out. She never said anything through it. But afterwards she cooked him a warm meal that he devoured with the fervour that could only belong to someone who was starved and didn’t even realize it.

It tasted like someone had finally seen him drowning and offered to pull him back to the shore.

They’d given him something by doing that. Something precious that refused to die when he tried to suffocate it.

And he wanted more of it, just like he knew he would.

He’d walked that knife’s edge more than once, teetering on the verge of honesty about what he wanted and what, deep down, he’d be willing to do to have it. But every time, he pulled himself back.

He gave, and gave, and gave—little pieces of himself chipped away until that became who he was, someone who quieted his fears and insecurities by building up others until there was nothing left that could feel any of that.

He had never once stopped to think that maybe that approach could backfire on him – could blow up so big that he’d get others caught in the explosion.

He told himself it was better that way. That he could leave behind a happy memory.

If that was all that was left of him, then he would eventually slip through the cracks and vanish—and no one would ever have to know there was something hungry and feral swimming underneath the surface to begin with.

Even if that was the kindest lie he could tell.

The air was still cold at night, but he didn’t shiver. This time he’d dressed a little warmer.

He couldn’t freeze himself out like he did before – not anymore. He’d given up on that the moment he’d given up on stubborn silence.

The wind whispered to him that he was abandoning himself by choosing comfort and warmth – but he chose to ignore it.

Even with all this reflection the original question still stood unanswered: how much longer could he keep this up?

How long could he bank on survival alone?

Because he’d been shown the evidence so clearly now, that leaving himself behind as a happy memory was no longer an option. It never was, because the memory he would have left would have been full of sorrow, pain, and distance.

The quiet sound of cautious footsteps on the roof tiles behind him gets his attention.

He turns his head to see who it is, and sees Nezuko. She carefully drifts over like a spectre in the night and settles on his left.

The significance that she’d choose to approach him from that side, where he still had one functional eye and could actually see her coming was not lost on him.

There was care in that choice—intentional, quiet, and kind.

She was giving him the option to retreat if he wanted to take it.

He didn’t.

“I thought you were asleep by now.” He quietly says instead, reaching for once.

“I heard you get out of bed and climb up here to sit by yourself. I waited to see if you’d come back. When you didn’t I thought I’d check if you wanted some company,” Nezuko answers, mirroring his soft tone, like if she broke the silence too much, she’d break the moment, too.

The smile she gave him was small and inviting. She let herself settle down further, getting comfortable when he says nothing else.

There was a faint scent of relief drifting off of her. Had she been worried he’d push her away?

It saddened him that this was the expectation he’d set for her.

He found himself at a loss for words—so he said nothing.

He just turned back towards the sky and allowed the warm comfort of her presence take the place of his thoughts. For a little while, that seemed to be enough.

It stayed quiet, but the offer to listen hung in the air—confirmed when Nezuko gently linked her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder with a soft sigh.

She wouldn’t push him any further than this.

The choice was his to make: he could open up and tell her what brought him out here in the first place – it didn’t have to be the whole story, it was entirely up to him how much he would or wouldn’t share – or he could just quietly bask in the camaraderie she’d served him on a silver platter until they finally turned in for the night.

He didn’t want to just accept her effort anymore – he wanted to honour it. To prove that he cared in a way that built a bridge instead widening a gap.

But every time he settled on a place to start she was there, and she could look at him if she just lifted her head, so the words got stuck on the tip of his tongue. Like it was a long way to fall and they were scared of heights.

The blanket trick had helped before, but there were no blankets out here on the roof and he wasn’t going to interrupt this just for that.

But...

Maybe...

“Hey... can – can we... ugh. Just. Hold on for a sec, please? I think – I need to...” He tried to explain, but even that was too close to asking for something.

So he acted instead. Took what he needed, and forced himself to accept that it was an okay thing to do.

He turned in his seat so his back was facing her, and sighed in relief when he felt her adjust to lean against him the same way. Still right there, still close, but like this he didn’t have to face that he was letting himself be seen. He could talk to the stars instead.

“I... I’ve had this thought for a long time. Quiet and hopeful. And I kept trying to bury it as far down as I could because it hurt to even have around. But maybe it’s... fine if it does. Maybe I’m wrong to deny it the right to exist.”

He swallowed thickly around the lump forming in his throat. Didn’t try to push it down even though he had no intent of breaking down here. Just let it be felt until it was satisfied and left on it’s own.

Nezuko stayed quiet and warm against his back, patiently waiting.

“Sometimes – when I’m tired and holding myself up feels like moving a mountain – I wonder. Would it really be so bad to just... let someone look at me and actually see it? Just a little bit? Would they... would their hands be strong enough to lift me out of it? Would they be able to reach in far enough to get me? And if they did...”

The thought tugged at him in those moments when the isolation pressed in hardest, dragging him down, down, down into some quiet abyss he was afraid he’d never climb back out of because the cold comfort of it was just too seductive.

“...would I just drag them down with me? I can’t stand that. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I drowned someone in the dark just because they tried to guide me out of it.”

Tanjirou wrapped his arms around himself tightly. He could ask for a proper hug right now and he’d have it. It just felt more significant that it came as a gift from himself to himself.

He was still holding himself together on his own – but with the same kindness he usually saved for others. There were no words to describe the catharsis that came with it, so he just let it be what it was.

“... I don’t remember when I started to flinch away from wanting things like I do. Like it would... cut me if I let myself get too close to it. It seemed to work okay for a while, though. Kept things deceptively simple. I didn’t think to notice that it left me with nothing to hold on to but the parts of myself that were scared and angry until it was too late. Why do I feel so surprised? It wasn’t as if I saw them as worth giving away. Where else would they be able to go?”

The thought that he’d left something so vulnerable and sad to fend for itself just because he was scared of it – it ached. He knew he’d let something small and defenceless believe it was ugly and unwanted.

He wouldn’t have turned and dismissed it if it was anything other than himself crying out after him as he turned his back.

But isolating it had made it a separate thing in his mind, and now he saw it for what it really was – a child that had to rely in itself, and learned to build walls because the outside world had monsters in it. Monsters that looked so much like him.

He wished he’d done something different – anything that actually meant trying. But he couldn’t take it back. The damage was done. He just needed to puzzle together what it looked like as a whole picture.

He didn’t need to do that all by himself either – there were people that wanted to help him.

Wanted HIM in some way.

Maybe not how he would like them to, maybe exactly like he wanted them to. But just thinking about that made his head ache with memories of pushing them as far away as possible.

“Is it... is it too late to learn how to want things again? Things that I don’t feel like I deserve?” He asked the night sky, leaning his head back to rest against his sister’s. He’d been so scared that he would crush her – and here she was, not even bucking under his weight.

“Even if it was, would it really be worth it to not even try at all? I think... I think the regret would be so much heavier in the end.” Nezuko eventually answered.

He felt lighter now. The weightless feeling spreading from his head to ends of his limbs. He turned around again, to hold her, and she stayed exactly as she was so that he could let himself.

They stayed like that until he could bare being looked at again.

Wordlessly they stood, and climbed down the roof so they could head inside and finally rest.

Chapter Text

After the death of their father, Nezuko had come to understand and accept that she had an important role to play in her family as the second-eldest child and eldest daughter.

They’d still had their mother, of course, but it wasn’t an easy job - being home-maker and raising so many children. It had fallen to Nezuko to be her assistant of sorts.

While her mother had been busy cleaning, cooking, and making sure their house stayed a home, it was Nezuko who cared for her siblings.

Tanjirou had helped where he could, of course he had, but as the eldest sibling and eldest son, the responsibility of providing for them all, making sure there was food to cook and clothes to wear, had fallen on his shoulders.

He couldn’t always be there for them as much as Nezuko could.

She had NEVER minded.

It was a labour of love to her, and she’d cherished being the nurturer. It gave her purpose, and a way of understanding what others needed without them having to breathe a word of it - she had ALWAYS been proud of that.

As a demon, however, she had been stripped of that. All of it.

As well as her voice.

Suddenly, everything she was at her core—her softness, her thoughts, her purpose—was trapped in a mind and body that no longer felt like her own.

At first, she’d tried to be who she was—to speak, to soothe. But her throat locked up, her hands didn’t understand gentleness anymore, and every instinct snarled where softness used to live.

When she’d try to say something, anything at all, the noises were sluggish and clumsy in the way her vocal chords responded. Full of animalistic growls and whines instead of speech.

When she’d try to hold and herd, her arms would not move, confused at the lack of violence in the gesture and stuck at her sides while she could only be a presence instead.

But she had always still been there, through it all.

Watching.

Feeling.

Taking it all in while Tanjirou fought so hard to get her back.

So she had to adapt into a new silent role.

In that bare-minimum survival – in-between a war, monsters with human faces, and words that could not come – she had kept her mind open and LEARNED.

Recovery was not just healing wounds and fading scars – it was learning how to live ALONGSIDE them.

As time went by and she grew used to the new flesh—and a mind haunted by rage and hunger she didn’t naturally understand—she found new ways to offer her support and comfort through being present alone.

It was an evolution of the instincts already woven into every fiber of her being since childhood, her want to soothe and encourage, into something that no longer needed words to function.

It had to.

There was no other choice when you had to see yourself so, so clearly that it hurt to keep your eyes open and focused, all in order not to lose sight of it entirely.

And in a way, she was grateful for that, even though the transformation had been painful. Traumatic.

It had only made her more capable of choosing kindness, both towards herself and others.

But it didn’t mean it wasn’t the hardest thing she ever had to do. The scars were still there, and she wore them like a badge of honor – cradled it like a baby and rocked it into peaceful stillness.

They showed themselves freely even now, after over half a year of having her voice and body back.

Nezuko still wasn’t fully sure how to use them any-more, so she often found herself still leaning on the silent but unshakable approach, still watching and feeling, but there in a way she couldn’t be before, because now she could nurture and reassure with the necessary words once again.

She was not a girl of many words, never really had been at all, but she understood the impact that the right ones at the right time could have even better than before everything changed, and she wielded this new addition to her arsenal with care and attention to detail.

After all, if there was only one thing she’d learned as a demon, it’s that people tended to cloak and hide the deepest, most fragile parts of themselves under a blanket pile of distracting words to keep them silent and out of sight.

She’d especially come to learn how deep that ran for Tanjirou.

In those years, she’d realized just how little he really cared for himself. How little he looked out for his own well-being.

And it had broken her heart to know she couldn’t help in any way that would bridge the canyons he was making. All she could do was be there for him to lean on when the burden got too heavy and he didn’t even realize he was falling over. Wait for him to come to her on his terms.

He’d still acted like himself for the most part – he still smiled easily, still spoke with patience and gentle encouragement, still helped wherever he could like it was the easiest thing in the world – but when no-one else was looking, Nezuko made sure she did.

The sparkle in his eyes grew dimmer, something hollow and exhausted slowly eclipsing it, day by day.

He never once complained, never stopped to rest, and he reached for no-one unless they were reaching to him first. Even-though Nezuko could physically feel in her bones just how desperately he wanted to be the one that was held, instead of the one that had to hold.

She watched while he quietly tried to slip away and into the ether, dreading that someone would notice and hoping to high heavens that they would at the same time.

Then it was like a switch had flipped somewhere between the still-life of sudden domesticity and watching the nostalgia of watching fireflies. He started to want despite himself, and he didn’t know how to handle that.

Suddenly he’d held himself so stiffly around Inosuke, and then Zenitsu—coordinated himself so carefully, like if he cut the strings that held him up and he used to manipulate himself with it would be his ultimate, unforgivable sin.

Like he was rotten for daring to be just as human as everyone else.

And once again, her heart bled and broke for him.

Especially after she came back from a wonderful trip to find that he’d destroyed everything he held dear—just to feel something.

Especially when he tried so hard to finally express the pain that just existing put him through – but slipped on every frozen step.

Especially when he kept trying anyway, until he found a way to do it.

Silence was Nezuko’s language now. Sometimes it was the things that you didn’t say that were the loudest, and Tanjirou’s quiet scream of longing—that hovered right between the things he’d said and the things he couldn’t manage to – rung high in her ears.

She felt it with him, like a punch in the chest. Because his was not the only one she’d been hearing, after all.

Zenitsu completely devoured every scrap and morsel of attention he got from Tanjirou and Inosuke like a boy that intimately knew just how much he was starving. He held it like a lover, because that absence was the only love he’d ever known.

And it wasn’t even the same as when he’d begged for her attention. He’d been obnoxious and loud about it – not a single care for how desperate he looked, as long as he got to eat his full and have even more.

He was more reserved when it came to them – it was more meaningful to him. He’d tasted something that made everything else turn to ash on his tongue.

He was so scared of actually losing those two that he never said a word of it at all.

He drowned himself in his fear and uncertainty, in the anxieties that whispered sickly sweet horrors into his ears about his place in their worlds—but if you looked past that he was so close -

One foot dangling over the ledge like an offering to the open sea, allowing himself to want; but the rest of him stood fast and clung to the rocks with a white knuckled grip like it was a lifeline and not his doom—unwilling to take the risk of jumping like he wants so badly to do.

Hell, he wasn’t even presently at home with them while they sorted through and tried to patch together the mess it ended up being – hadn’t been for a while according to Tanjirou’s shaky recollections – and she could STILL feel that buzzing on the edges of the atmosphere – the remnants of what he must have been walking around with—because Zenitsu could never leave the space he inhabited unchanged.

Just like Inosuke couldn’t, either. Both of them unknowingly leaking pieces of themselves all over and into the essence of Tanjirou and Nezuko’s childhood home. Echoes that refused to fade away.

And oh, free and willing but absolutely clueless Inosuke—who was just starting to notice that he wanted something, but had absolutely no context for what the shape of it might be.

Inosuke, who got so frustrated with himself for not just getting it with the same ease everyone else seemed to, because no one ever gave him the tools he needed.

He’d lingered in little the touches and small moments for just a second longer than he used to.

There had regularly been small, developing windows in time where he’d let himself pause and marinate in it, head tilting in confusion or consideration as he tried to slowly figure out what that meant - before he violently shook it off and went back to being boisterous and over-confident with a little more insistence.

Like if he forgot about it hard enough it would start to make sense, eventually.

Like he hasn’t already grown roots here that he’d refused to admit to himself existed.

Denial was a heady drug when you’ve decided deep down that you’re not capable of something, and love wouldn’t grow right if you didn’t nurture it properly. It was so easy to make it twist and morph into something else if you kept trying to squash it into a form you could understand.

Something like anger and frustration.

Something that could be dismissed as weird and wild, but that was Inosuke for you, so why think about it just a little further?

She’d seen his note. He was already over the edge of the cliff – he just didn’t think anyone would catch him, so he felt like he needed to leave to figure out how to soften his own landing.

And all together?

They circled and passed by each other with so little space between their orbits, but the gap was still a little too wide for them to bridge just yet, especially with none of them moving to even try.

At least one of them just needed a gentle push. Something from an outside force so they would have to admit to themselves that denial was not working.

Trying to do it from the inside the way Tanjirou had done, by trying to push the others closer with his own absence, only disrupted the fragile gravity they balanced in so carefully.

But the connection was still there! Still breathing and clinging to life with broken teeth and an openly beating heart. It just... looked like all three of them were too scared that they’d accidentally snuff it out if they tried to hold it.

Nezuko had always been good at cradling and guiding delicate things until they could thrive on their own. And she would do that for them. Not because they needed her to, not because she was compulsed to.

But because she saw it clinging to life with everything it had, and it was beautiful. That effort deserved to be nurtured.

She just needed an opening to sneak her way in and lay the groundwork so someone could follow it, like a blueprint, and rebuild the structure even taller and stronger.

She has once again been watching and waiting, feeling carefully for a crack over the past few short months that was just big enough for her to slip through.

She didn’t need big speeches. Just one crack in the wall—and her voice, steady and sure, would slip through like sunlight whether anyone gave her permission or not.

She finally knew where it laid now – just enough that she could tell who it ran off with.

She was strong enough to at least drag all three of them where they needed to be if she had to.

Hell, small as she was, she was sure she could even fit them on her shoulders and carry them properly.

And Inosuke had taught her enough about following a trail that she could find his if she looked—the minute she sensed an opportunity she would take it with both hands and not let go.

It was as something yellow moved in the corner of her eye and yelled her name that she turned her head – and saw that chance running right at her.

Chapter Text

“NEZUKOOOOOOOOO!” Zenitsu wailed as soon as he saw her.

He’d startled awake that morning after dreaming that – in his busy life of wallowing in things past – he’d completely forgotten she’d be back and only remembered two days after the fact.

He’d looked at the nearest calendar in a panic only to realize that he had, in fact, done just that.

Zenitsu had never packed his belongings faster. He had barely remembered to pay for his room for last night as he barrelled out of the building and up the mountain trail, all but sobbing.

There had been a creative string of curses and self-flagellating remarks—huffed out between laboured breaths—that followed him as he went, because he was an awful person and he deserved the scorn for forgetting the valiant return of a dear friend FOR TWO WHOLE DAYS.

But there she was – sat in the mid-morning sun like a vision of grace.

Zenitsu’s legs burned but he pushed them farther, faster, because in the wake of the heartache that had gripped him by the throat and held him in the air for the past week, she was a balm on the wound. A cool cloth on a face flushed with fever.

He threw himself at her with an anguished cry as if to bow his head at her feet in atonement for his sins against her, and she caught him in a hug before he could make a fool of himself and actually do that, because she was made of nought but mercy.

“I am so sorry! I completely forgot you were coming back until this morning! We – the three of us had a fight and we needed time to cool down so I’ve been staying at the inn but oh my God I have no excuses and I am so, so sorry please forgive-”

“Zenitsu, breathe!” she laughed like wind chimes dancing in the breeze, “It’s okay! I know about what happened, Tanjirou told me all about it. You’re fine!” She assured and pushed him back to arm’s length and gave him a once over.

Zenitsu suddenly felt self-conscious – he had not been looking after himself as well as he should have, and his hair must still have been a mess from the furious rush he’d been in.

“How are you doing, though? After all of that?” Nezuko asked kindly, because she was a benevolent goddess in mortal skin.

“I, uhm, well I’m—” Zenitsu began, only to trail off as his gaze shifted past Nezuko to the house behind her.

The front door was ajar, technically intact, but clearly held together with hopes, dreams, and sheer foolhardy determination. Its wooden lattice was splintered and cracked in several places, missing entire segments that had been clumsily replaced with slivers of bamboo and bound tight with twine. It was sagging in it’s frame, and a large patch of the washi paper had been patched in a mosaic of mismatched parchment.

Looking further past that into the kitchen, he could see a suspiciously empty patch of wall where he could swear there had been a cupboard that had seen better days. Even the walls showed signs of hastily covered damage. He could swear the table they all sat by for meals had not stood that lopsided the last time he had seen it.

“What the hell happened here?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

As if summoned by the question—or by guilt—Tanjirou’s head appeared sheepishly around the doorframe. He, too, looked like he had seen better days.

He looked exhausted—so much so that Zenitsu almost forgot their last conversation. The urge to shove him under a blanket, thrust a bowl of soup at him, and demand he sleep for a week buried everything else like a landslide.

But it didn’t take long for the memory to crawl back in like the first stragglers of a swarm of insects.

“Oh – hi. Tanjirou,” Zenitsu greeted awkwardly, doing his best not to look directly at him for too long.

He was repaid for his efforts with a tight smile. “Hi.”

There were no further words as Nezuko looked cautiously between them, gauging the atmosphere. It was thick, heavy and crushing – pushing at Zenitsu’s shoulders like he had a boulder strapped to them. She seemed to be satisfied with it’s stability after a moment – or perhaps she could just smell the tension circling the two boys like a hungry predator.

Regardless she squared herself and squeezed Zenitsu’s shoulder with a sympathetic smile.

“I think you guys might need some space to talk it out. I’ll give you that. Take your time, I’ll be back later,” she said meaningfully, and walked off to inspect the edge of the treeline with interest before disappearing in between them.

Leaving just the two of them alone. If you didn’t count the tension as it’s own entity.

They were trying so hard not to look at each other—as a courtesy. As mercy.

There was so much in the air between them—things said, things unsaid—the air was so thick with it that breath fel t like a blessing.

Zenitsu shifted his weight between his feet, considered avoiding this confrontation entirely, but he was stuck in place as if held by a magnetic force.

Tanjirou nervously scratched at the back of his neck. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but ultimately the only sound that came from him was the clack of teeth as he hastily shut it. His hand clenched into a loose fist before being consciously released, and this happened a few times before he settled on rubbing it over his shoulder.

He looked to the spot where Nezuko had disappeared with a desperate grimace pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Zenitsu settled for focusing his gaze on his unsteady feet as he wrapped his own arms around himself in an attempt at a comforting self-hug.

It felt like their hearts were still bleeding all over themselves, and they couldn’t tell if the ache of it got better or worse in each other’s presence. But neither of them moved to leave – whether out of the gravity that pulled at them, or out of the mortification of the sudden predicament they found themselves in, was still left to be seen.

Zenitsu wouldn’t be surprised to find it was a solid mixture of both.

Tanjirou huffed out a noise that sounded bitter at it’s own amusement before he started speaking with the utmost caution—it was like he was trying to test the stability of the ground underneath him with nothing but words.

“You know... I’ve been – I’ve been trying to think of what to say for days, now. I just. Keep going over it all – wondering why I didn’t say anything. About the things I could have done instead, but didn’t... why I just let you walk away.”

His hands fidgeted like they wanted to sign the rest that he couldn’t seem to finish.

“And I – I still can’t come up with anything. I don’t know what words I could use to possibly... it’s like I keep fighting myself on it—and I somehow still end up losing. Every single time.”

Zenitsu didn’t know what to say to that—so for once, he kept his mouth shut and just watched. Listened.

They were pretty words – honest words – but they weren’t enough. Not yet.

Tanjirou looked even more awkward, if that was possible. His face twisted like he was in physical pain and his chest almost rattled with every careful breath as he waited for a reaction.

Zenitsu, in a rare show of mercy, offered a lifeline: “You could just... say exactly what’s on your mind. There’s no need to and dress it up, Tanjirou. I don’t want you to.”

Tanjirou nodded sharply, still unable to meet his eyes. “Do you... maybe want to come inside? I can—make us some tea. If you want.”

Wordlessly, Zenitsu stepped over the threshold.

He looked around carefully, eyes trailing over the quiet signs of a house trying to look whole again. Tanjirou followed a few steps behind, stepping past him with quick strides as he headed for the stove and pulled out a pot. The sound of metal rang a little too loud in the quiet.

Zenitsu took a seat at the far side of the table, as far from the stove as the room would allow.

It was as Tanjirou placed the pot on one of the heating plates to boil that Zenitsu finally managed to ask: “What happened to the tea pot? And the house?”

He tensed so suddenly, you would swear Zenitsu had just struck a particularly sensitive bruise.

Tanjirou cleared his throat, eyes glued to the pot like it might rescue him.“I... uh. I sort of— I broke it. The whole set. And, uh... some other stuff.” A pause. The words fought to leave his mouth. “I... had a bit of a moment. While everyone was gone.”

He didn’t turn around. Didn’t sit down.

Zenitsu didn’t know why there was a faint flicker of surprise that Tanjirou could have done that. He’d seen him fight literal demons for years – there was no question that he was capable of violence if the mood struck him. But... against his own home? Something that represented not only himself and where he came from but his sister too—and the home all four of them had made together?

Zenitsu could only imagine the rage he must have been feeling – turning inwards towards himself.

Why did that not come as a surprise?

“I... see. Well... did you at least feel better afterwards?”

Tanjirou barked a bitter laugh at that instead of giving a proper answer.

Eventually he deemed the tea ready, poured two cups, and shuffled to the opposite end of the table, setting a tin cup in front of Zenitsu before retreating with his own—holding it like a safety blanket.

The silence settled back in like snow in the night – cold and haunting. For a while they just sat and sipped their tea. They had so much to give to each other still – too much. It left them both in a pause as they considered where to start – only looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes like they were trying to figure out who was going first, only to end up in a deadlock.

After a few more dying heartbeats, Tanjirou set down his teacup with resigned force – the sound echoing too loudly. He stared at the surface of the table with furrowed brows, mouth pulled into a tight line, and such a tired determination that made it seemed like he was trying to read the answers from the grain of the wood.

Finally, he cracked.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he sighed, “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to change. Because I know, deep down, it’s going to be so, so hard. And I feel so... empty - these days that even just being awake feels like... I don’t even know how to describe it. But it’s like I have this weight on my back that just keeps getting heavier, and I can barely breathe anymore.”

As if to prove his point, he sucked in a shaky breath like he forgot that was something he needed to do. His hands were no longer wrapped around his teacup. Instead, his good hand reached up to scratch at his hair as the weakened one laid on the table top – almost like it was reaching towards Zenitsu.

He wanted to reach back and hold it. Show some support. He almost did – almost managed to scrape together the nerve – but Tanjirou quickly folded his hands together underneath the table as if he’d suddenly realized what he’d been doing.

Something in Zenitsu’s chest ached. He tried to quiet it with the thought that Tanjirou was still making an effort in other ways. Trees do not grow overnight, and as long as the seed was sprouting the rest just... needed some time and patience.

“I want to try, though.” Tanjirou continued quietly. “I know – I know I made it hard to be around me with the way I acted and the things I did. I didn’t mean... I never wanted you – or Inosuke—to feel like you didn’t have a say in anything. I never wanted to shut you guys out – I just did it and refused to think about what I was doing because... I didn’t want to admit the actions I turned to wasn’t just hurting me, but the two of you as well. Because that would... well. That would just confirm that I’m a bad person, wouldn’t it?”

Zenitsu, after scraping together every ounce of bravery he's ever had, DARES to cautiously – meticulously—look at Tanjirou properly and see him for who he was, now, in this current point of time.

And he sees someone who is in pieces.

Arms wrapped as far around his own body as they would go, holding himself tightly. Tanjirou hadn’t looked directly at him since he’d started talking, and while Zenitsu hadn’t been looking he’d squeezed his eyes shut and kept his head bent low. And the way he spoke – it was like he wasn’t speaking to Zenitsu directly. Like he couldn’t.

A part of Zenitsu wanted to be offended, wanted Tanjirou to look him in the eye and acknowledge that he was there, that it mattered that he was. Zenitsu wanted to feel like Tanjirou actually meant for him to hear this, instead of trying so hard to pretend that he wasn’t even there.

But Zenitsu also knew what it felt like to not be able to watch as someone ate your heart off of the silver platter you served it on – waiting to see if it would satisfy them or if they’d spit it out.

Maybe this was the only way Tanjirou could get the words out. He seemed so ashamed of himself, and Zenitsu knew what that was like, too.

Again, he wanted to reach for him – with hands or with words – just to show he was still there, still listening; but he didn’t know what to do or say that wouldn’t kill Tanjirou’s momentum, and he was trying so hard to keep it going.

So Zenitsu just sat and listened. He barely breathed for fear that the sound would throw him off.

“I didn’t know how to tell you guys what was wrong because what if it would just become a burden for the two of you, too?” Tanjirou said thickly, voice fragile and cracking at the edges. “So I kept my mouth shut and hoped I could keep you guys distracted with each other, instead. But now I’m starting to realize I wasn’t sparing you a burden – I just froze you out and didn’t give either of you a choice in ANYTHING, I didn’t – I didn’t let you choose to be there for me, I didn’t let you choose whether or not to act on your feelings on your own—and you were right. I wasn’t treating you like people with your own thoughts and feelings. I was just treating you like you were my punishment for not being – not feeling good enough. I never once even considered that keeping it all to myself would be the thing that ended up hurting you in the end.”

Tanjirou’s breath hitched in a sob, and Zenitsu could feel a sting behind his own eyes.

He was obviously conflicted about what the next steps he needed to make looked like to figure out how to make things better —and not just for everyone else, this time, but seemingly—tentatively—for himself, too.

Zenitsu could see it —see Tanjirou sitting in the middle of a scattered, mismatched puzzle trying so hard to find the pieces that fit together as he tried to swallow down the overwhelming anxiety that came with a lack of self-confidence.

Zenitsu listened so, so closely as Tanjirou did his best to offer a piece of his own soul in a way that finally doesn't let anyone take the whole thing. He sees him TRYING, for once, to keep himself whole for his own well being.

He felt so... proud of him.

He was in awe that Tanjirou tried to adapt so quickly—and somehow, he was managing to do it right, even if he did it flailing and uncertain, balancing on eggshells so he didn’t trip and smash them under his weight again.

And he wasn’t even done yet – already taking a steadying breath, gearing himself up to keep going despite how much it clearly hurt.

Zenitsu couldn’t look away. He couldn’t speak. It felt like he was watching a tragedy unfold in real time—and to try and stop it would be a dishonour towards this boy that he loved so goddamn much.

“I didn’t – I NEVER thought it would get so out of hand. I thought I could handle it, I thought I was being strong – but I was such a fucking coward. There was no way I could have kept all of it under control and I was a fool to even try. I backed myself into a corner and then blamed it on you for not playing along. And then it all just – started spilling out in the worst way and I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop myself because I – I just didn’t—and still don’t—feel like I deserve to want things for myself. So I lashed out when you started resisting, and I kept doing it until it was too late to take it back. I only saw what I was doing AFTER you begged and screamed at me to stop. AFTER I threw a fucking tantrum like a goddamn child and destroyed the house-”

Tanjirou’s jaw clenched so tightly Zenitsu started to get concerned that he might break some of his teeth. His breath was laboured—angry—and he was putting in so much effort to control it and keep it underneath the surface that it left him trembling. He was openly crying now – hot, frustrated tears spilling out between his screwed eyelids like he was leaking out poison.

Zenitsu had never wanted to embrace someone more than he did right there, in that moment. But it still wasn’t quite the right time to bridge that gap, so he clenched his hands into fists over the table top instead and told himself that soon – soon – he could do it. Even if he couldn’t actually hug him like he wanted to – because he didn’t know if Tanjirou would want that, if his nerves would be too frayed to handle the contact.

Tanjirou was quickly running out of steam, though, he could see it in the way his jaw finally went slack. In the way his shoulders slumped and he curled into himself even further – like his strings had finally been cut and he could finally try to make himself as small as he felt.

Zenitsu just needed to wait one more minute—one last breath, and then he could test the waters, see how deep he'd have to go to reach him.

“I built so many habits around this... bizarre relationship I have with pain and what I thought it should mean– then I made them the cornerstone of who I am. And now that I see that? Now that I don’t want it? I don’t have the first fucking clue of who I am anymore.” Tanjirou finished, finally opening his eyes – not to look at Zenitsu, but to stare hollowly into the abyss like he wanted so badly for it to swallow him whole – consume him until it was like he never even existed in the first place.

It was like he...

Tanjirou didn’t think there was anything left of himself what was worth a single god forsaken thing, did he?

Not of love.

Not of forgiveness.

Not even of desire, both that of his own and of others.

And it left Zenitsu terrified. It felt like... was Tanjirou a danger to himself right now?

His eyes were glazed over but there was this small gleam of focus in them that had the hair on the back of Zenitsu’s neck standing on edge.

Zenitsu didn’t say anything at first—because what could he possibly say that would fix this?

That wouldn’t just push Tanjirou further into the dark corners of his own head, where no one could reach him at all?

He didn’t… he didn’t have the experience to guide him through this. Sure, he’d been in the depths before—felt like shit stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe—but he never...

He’d never sunk far enough to think there wasn’t a way out. Never hated himself so fiercely, so violently, that he saw his own existence as the enemy.

And they all knew how Tanjirou dealt with threats to the people he loved.

With absolutely no mercy.

No forgiveness.

Not even for himself.

And suddenly Zenitsu felt like HE was suddenly swallowed by the void. He didn’t know if he was on the verge of tears again or if his body had decided that this moment was beyond such trivial things. He felt dizzy, sick to his stomach with a mixture agony and horror.

He needed time to think about this, he needed to be careful, he needed -

There was an urgency in his bones because there wasn’t TIME for him to collect himself here. He had to act, and he had to do it now.

Do something – ANYTHING but just sit and stare and be useless.

He didn’t know what to do.

On instinct he reached out across the table and laid his hand – palm up – on the surface of the table directly in Tanjirou’s line of sight.

If all he could do was offer a hand to hold, then by God, he was going to do that.

At first Tanjirou didn’t react at all, didn’t even show a sign that he registered it laying in front of him. But Zenitsu waited. Now was not the time to spiral into a panic.

He watched, with a patience that only came with mortal terror, until he saw a small flicker of recognition spark in his eye. It was barely there, but it was something to hold on to, something he could he could try to bring back to life.

And Zenitsu would take it gratefully and greedily, grab it with claws and teeth and every ounce of determination he’s never felt he’s had.

He waited for that flicker to turn into a furrow of the brows, a brighter light shining through even if it was just confusion. At least it was something.

“Hey,” Zenitsu finally said, shaky and unsure, but he wasn’t going to let his own lack of nerve stop him. “Tanjirou. Look at me? Please?”

Tanjirou blinked slowly, like he couldn’t hear him clearly just yet.

“Please?”

Tanjirou reacted like he was stuck in an underwater vortex – he moved in barely there fractions until finally, FINALLY, he looked Zenitsu in the eyes.

Zenitsu took a moment to just study the blankness in his features, willing himself not to look away even when Tanjirou blinked again and he saw the little bit of light in him threatening to dim even further once more.

This wasn’t Tanjirou. This was not the brave, foolhardy, stubborn, ray of sunshine he fell in love with – but he was still in there somewhere and he WANTED to reach back. Zenitsu could feel it. He just needed to coax him out a little further.

“Tanjirou. You with me?” Zenitsu asked as firmly as he could while still being cautious.

“Hmm?”

“...I see you in there, you know?” Zenitsu started, nervously chewing on one of his lips. He was making this up as he went, talking out of instinct—but if he was good at one thing it was talking.

“And it’s not what you see when you look at yourself. I see YOU. Not the boy who gives away pieces of himself because that’s all he thinks he’s worth. I see the boy who helps others like it’s as easy as breathing because he’s kind, and compassionate.”

Tanjirou’s eyes started to drift elsewhere again, and that urgency came back, so Zenitsu snapped his fingers in front of his face to get his attention again.

“Hey, hey. Look at me. Listen to me. You’re not a bad person, Tanjirou. You’re flawed and you made mistakes, yes, but that’s okay. Everyone does. It’s just... part of being a human being and there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re not – it doesn’t mean you’re worthless, okay? It just means you got hurt, and you didn’t know how to stop the bleeding. And I think... I think you thought that maybe if you went off and bled on your own then no-one had to worry about you. But we do. And you can see that now. It doesn’t make you a burden.”

Zenitsu swallowed around a lump in his throat. Drank in every sign of life he could find like he was in the desert. He’d say every single thing he could think of that might possibly help if he had to.

“You might feel broken right now – but what I saw in you, just now while you were talking? You’re trying to pick up the pieces—and putting them together into something even better. It might not feel like much, or like you’re doing anything at all – but it’s HUGE! And I – I’m so fucking proud of you right now, do you hear me? You’re not gone yet, you’re not giving up and that means EVERYTHING to the people you care about. And if it helps? None of us are ever going to give up on you, either. So. Don’t give up on us, either, okay?”

Zenitsu didn’t know when he finally started to actually cry, but his face was warm and wet now and he was sniffling to keep the snot from running.

Tanjirou finally seemed to actually be looking at him instead of through him, and Zenitsu knew, somehow, he’d gotten their heads through it.

“Okay.” Tanjirou answered quietly.

They were handing each other bricks and broken off slivers of themselves with shaking, bloody hands to try build something even stronger. Together.

Zenitsu could see it clearly.

Tanjirou still couldn’t look at it directly because it looked too much like all the hope he feared so viscerally—the hope he's been trying so hard to accept that he has. But that was okay. Because he was sending it curious glances every now and then and that was enough.

And Zenitsu feels it in his core. He was watching someone chose to be brave in real time and it was powerful.

He lets that defiance and courage fuel his own, because how could it not? And it dawns on him that this is it -

He's ready to say it.

Ready to throw himself to the wolves for someone else, consequences be damned, this boy in front of him needed to know he was loved, deeply, even if he couldn't fully see the shape of who he is yet - even if he wasn't ready to.

Everyone who cares about him could see it. Zenitsu needed Tanjirou to know.

And Zenitsu needed to say it.

He SHOULD say it. Confess. Right here and now.

While it still felt like the right time.

While he still felt brave enough.

The words were already barreling over his vocal cords and up his throat at record speed.

He could feel them coming—shockwaves in his chest, vibrations slithering over his vocal cords, curling in his cheeks, teetering on the edge of his tongue. Ready to break free like a tidal wave. Or a holy prayer. Or both.

“Tanjirou,” Zenitsu said firmly. “I really, really need you to hear what I’m about to say—and know it. Feel it. I’m not saying it because I want something from you, I’m saying it because you deserve to know. Even if you don’t know who you are anymore – YET – you deserve to know.”

He hoped it was enough of a warning that Tanjirou could prepare for what was coming.

Tanjirou went pale—mouthing the word no, soft and horrified, like it was both a denial and a plea. He didn’t feel like he was ready to hear it yet – but he needed to know.

Zenitsu burned. His face flushed with something fierce and unshakable. He couldn’t stop now. It was already happening.

This was it.

They both knew what was coming.

There was no stopping it now.

“Zenitsu—wait—no—please don’t—!”

“It’s too late! I’m doing it!” he insisted with a tremor in his voice— all pure bravado dressed up in cracked, fragile willpower.

He sucked in the deepest, most desperate breath his lungs could hold – trying to brace himself. They didn’t feel big enough to hold the words with – felt like they’d shrivel up and die within his chest after the release—but they’d just have to be enough.

He straightened his back and squared his shoulders. Lifted his eyes to meet Tanjirou’s and saw an all to familiar tsunami of anxiety in them, hurtling right at him with all the force and power of an actual ocean.

Fear and guilt and something that just ached deep down.

He could sense the oncoming fight, flight, or freeze response waiting across the canyon that had become the table—wearing Tanjirou’s skin.

And Zenitsu steeled himself against it.

“Tanjirou,” he began again, voice shaking. “I—”

SLAM!

The door exploded open like it was too scared to hold out what was coming in.

All of Zenitsu’s momentum, all his fragile hope, shattered in one thunderous crack.

Neither of them turned.

They sat frozen—anchored in a limbo carved out by a moment that almost happened. Grief, disbelief, relief. Equal parts.

Probably the most sacred moment of Zenitsu’s meagre life – murdered in cold blood.

“YOU! AND YOU!” Inosuke roared, his booming voice sweeping away all that remained in the ashes of a something that would never breathe between them again.

Chapter Text

Inosuke hadn’t slept in two full days now, and the heat of his breath being reflected back at him by his mask was getting on his nerves. His scalp itched where the mask kept shifting, tugging at his hair—it never used to bother him, but right now it felt like the most goddamn annoying thing in the world.

His bangs were plastered to his forehead with sweat. He’d been climbing this fucking mountain since the minute he’d left, the sun was already setting again, and he still wasn’t at the top because his dumb-ass boar mask kept falling over his eyes and making him trip over shit while he walked.

It’s as he adjusts his mask again that his foot hits the edge of a rock and he nearly trips again, so he rips it off of his head and chucks it at a tree – it bounces off of the bark and starts rolling down the mountain because of course it would.

“Fuck!” he yelped as he watched it tumble. “My face! Get back here!”

He barrels after it, dodging roots and mud puddles—leaps to tackle it before it can escape.

He starts to trek up the mountain again, furiously rubbing the dirt off of it, shoves it back on – and promptly eats shit tripping over the same. Fucking. Rock.

“I’m gonna FUCKING kill you, you stupid rock!” he growls and goes to pick it up and throw it – its stuck in the ground.

Inosuke’s blood boils so hot it felt like he was about to pass out.

Instead, he starts digging like an animal—fistfuls of dirt flying everywhere. The damn rock turns out to be a boulder the size of his chest. It takes him thirty full minutes of cursing and flailing before he finally heaves it onto his shoulder.

Almost there. Almost there. He’s nearly at the top.

He stomps his way towards the nearest cliff with heaving breaths, until he’s standing near the edge, and proceeds to fling the boulder off of it with as much force as he was physically capable of—hears a satisfying, muted THUNK as it crashed to the ground and split in three.

Inosuke sucks in as much air as his lungs could hold and lets it out in a loud, drawn out roar – hears it echo back at him through the empty air when he’s done.

Breathes like an ox.

Collapses against the nearest tree and settles at it’s foot with the intent to pass out for a few hours.

-I!A!O!-

The bright midday sun burns behind his eyelids, twitching.

Inosuke wakes with a start. His mouth’s dry as dust, his body aches with every twitch, and his skin’s sticky with yesterday’s sweat.

Looks around in a daze, tries to remember how he got there. Makes a noise of disgust when he does.

He’d dreamed he was was with the boars again – as a piglet. The runt of the litter. He didn’t know where they were going. Just followed—his mother, his littermates—scrambling to keep up in rough terrain. At one point in his struggle he’d looked up – only to find he was all alone, with no sign of them anywhere.

Inosuke had looked, frantically, for any trail he could follow to catch back up but eventually – against his will – he’d realized he’d been left behind.

Abandoned to fend for himself.

And then he got eaten, torn to shreds by a pack of wolves before he could even squeal.

He stands and tries to shrug it off. It was just a dream. It didn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t mean anything.

His fist flies into the trunk of the tree, and it does nothing but send a shock of pain up his arm – splits the skin on his knuckles.

Even in his dreams.

Discarded and dismissed, even in his unconscious mind. There was no escape.

He takes off his mask and sets it down, tries to breathe through it, looks at the cliff’s edge. Considers for just a moment too long. His lip curls and bares his teeth, revolted that he’d even play with the idea.

Weakling.

Inosuke looks into the eyes of his boar’s head. He reaches. Lovingly runs his fingers through the fur. Yanks it back into his head in one sharp movement.

No more of this. He was done feeling things like an idiot.

-I!A!O!-

Inosuke was feeling things again. Like an idiot.

In his restless wandering he’d somehow found his way into the clearing where they’d all come to watch the fireflies, and found nothing but darkness when the sun set, and he dared to be disappointed when they didn’t show up after dusk.

Inosuke fell backwards onto his ass in the soft grass and stared tiredly at the night sky like it was the house’s ceiling.

How could they just...?

Inosuke didn’t sign up for this bullshit.

He – he’d been GOOD hadn’t he? He tried. He knew he was a lot to handle, but he tried to be less—and when he did that, he was too little! Like, no matter what he tried to be, it was never good enough.

He tried to learn, tried to adapt and be someone they could approve of, tried – tried to be someone they could...

Love.

AND HE STILL DIDN’T UNDERSTAND WHY THAT WAS SOMETHING HE WANTED!

Maybe it was better that he left, after all. Maybe he SHOULD just never go back – he’s better off – they’d be better off -!

He never needed anyone before this! He never – he never felt like he was lesser than anyone before he tasted affection and approval. Like it was a poison, slowly corroding him from the inside. And he wanted even more? What the hell was wrong with him? Why -

Why did they suddenly not want...?

What changed? What did he do?

It couldn’t have been his fault – he’d TRIED! He gave them everything he had and then dug down for more. And sometimes it felt appreciated – they’d smile at him, they’d praise him, and he would lean into the tender touches like a loyal lap dog that just couldn’t get enough of it.