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At first Nezuko mistakes the feeling as hunger. Her stomach turning, the hollowness in her chest. Later she realizes the emotion for what it really is.
Guilt.
She wonders what could have been different. Would it be different had her brother stayed? If she had gone with him into town? If anything they could have done would have affected the road they were on now, the path they were following that would certainly lead to their destruction. Or... were always destined to wind up just the two of them?
She doesn't know, and thinking about it doesn't help when her she can come to no conclusion.
"Neza! Nezako! Ko ko!" Her brother babbles her name syllables slurred as he giggles. She responds as best she can from behind the muzzle in her mouth.
He seems so carefree like this. Playing with her hands, her hair, snuggled against her side as though nothing has changed.
She should find someone proper to look after her brother, but a part of her still wants to indulge in being his caretaker. To pretend that everything is fine. That she's still human enough to care about something so delicate as the headspace she finds her brother in now.
Tanjiro used to regress before... at least Nezuko thinks he did, because they never really had to explain the role the two of them fell into at times like these. Like it was instinct to take over as the eldest sibling for a time. Pretending to be kids for a little while when they were both forced to grow up far to quickly.
That feeling was only worse now and she's never seen her brother slip younger than the age of eight before. He's small, and it scares her how far he can still let his guard down. How he can trust her when she nearly killed him...
He admires her hands, taking her fingers and tapping them against his own. Her hands are stained in blood and no longer her own. Nails sharp and curled, and so so dangerous for a baby to be playing with.
It wouldn’t take much to hurt him… the thought, unwelcome in her mind, lingers far to long.
Guilt eats away at her.
It would be better if she found someone else if she’s already thinking such thoughts. One of their friends maybe, though Nezuko doesn’t like the idea of either of them taking care of her brother. Inosuke is loud and Zenitsu tries, but he’s never had siblings and never dealt well with children and her baby brother will end up big before he’s ready to be due to something stupid one of the two will end up doing.
The pillars had a soft spot for the boy, even more so when he was regressed. Nezuko knows that hardly any of them would have a problem entertaining the boy for the hour or so while he was like this.
But she would always have an elder sister’s bias to her brother, and to willingly admit that she might not be the best person suited to take care of her brother like this might crush something in her chest beyond repair.
Because he was a sweetheart to everyone that he didn't want to make upset, who he didn't fully trust not to leave him when he wasn't perfect. He needed time to actually grieve, even if it was covered by a protective layer of childhood memoires and instincts.
No one seemed to understand.
Not her brother, who spent evenings crying over already tended and healing wounds. Her brother who longed to hold his younger siblings like she still did. Her brother who never complained aloud about anything that went on in his thoughts. Never let fear over worry grace his lips lest he worry anyone else’s that everything wasn’t just fine.
He used to. These softer moments reminding her of before, where one of them would run to their mother and cling to her skirt. Hide away tears into the fabric and be promised that the world would turn out alright.
They didn't have that privilege now.
They only had each other.
And yet Tanjiro still cried.
Her form changes, from preteen to nearly an adult in presentation, able to better hold onto her little brother the way it was supposed to be. Like a mother would to comfort her child. Like an older sister should be able too...
And Nezuko, despite everything, wanted nothing more than to pretend that these moments wiped away the memories tainted with fear, blood, and guilt. They were at home together, and Tanjiro just returned exhausted from a trip into town. Their mother would make soup and they’d play with their younger siblings and get just a touch too into the make-believe games instead of simply indulging the others. They’d fall asleep in a pile of tangled limbs and worn-out blankets, snow falling outside as the fire dimmed.
And everything would be just like how it always was.