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Inosuke couldn’t breathe. Or he could- but every breath felt like a death sentence, like he was being hugged from behind.
Which was absolutely stupid, because he was a Demon Slayer! Breathing was his whole thing! If he couldn’t do that, what even was he good for?
Heck, he might as well be worthless than stupid Monitsu at that point. Moreover, he was crying. He didn’t remember giving his body permission to do that , either. It made him super duper annoyed —— What right did his body have, going off and not listening to him, the King of the Mountains?
He’d woken up like this seconds before, falling from one image of blood to another until he fell into a stiff futon, breath laboured and choked and his mind swimming with things he’d never wanted to think about again.
The blood-headed demon’s face. His cold smile.
His mother.
How that awful demon’s smile must’ve curled, how the blood would’ve looked as it dripped, as Inosuke’s mama was ripped apart by his greedy fangs.
He wanted her to be there. To hold him, and tell him it’d be okay- or Shinobu, maybe, to say some weird words that felt right and pat his head.
But the blood headed demon had tore her up too.
And Inosuke was alone.
It was dark. And cold. He scrambled to his feet. He needed to get outside.
He needed to check, to make sure the world around them was still intact. That it hadn’t crumbled apart. That things were still here, still whole.
The night sky was dark. The air chilly and prickling his skin.
He tried to take a deep breath — to sense the air, let the touch of the cool grass ground him. But his skin felt clammy, every sensation like a knife, every sound like pricking needles, every scent clouded by his running nose.
Every single icy breath brought him back to that bloody demon from his dreams — he’d made the air icy too, cutting through Inosuke’s lungs, piercing him to the core. It’d hurt back then. It hurt now, too. The pain had never left him — just receded into the background, ready to rear it’s ugly head as it pleased.
It wasn’t even the physical pain. It was a deep jagged scar that stretched the span of his heart, cut by jagged ice and sharp fan blades.
Inosuke wanted to scream and swear and howl his displeasure to the Mother Goddess, to the little weird statues that Monitsu and Nezuko called the Buddhas and the Kami on their fancy witch table.
There were footsteps. Soft, padding. Behind him.
Not his own.
Inosuke froze.
“Inosuke?” A voice cut the air, clear like an ice pick. Somehow, Inosuke didn’t feel any of the frosty chill that should bring him. There wasn’t anything cold about that voice.
It clicked into place seconds after— Tanjiro.
Every muscle in Inosuke’s body relaxed faintly, leaving him shivering, limbs trembling as they wrapped over him protectively. He couldn’t have Tanjiro seeing him like this— seeing him so low, so close to the ground. So close to breaking apart.
“Inosuke!” The footsteps came faster, and a hand touched his shoulder. First, Inosuke flinched away- then he remembered that this was Tanjiro, and his body shakily relaxed into the touch, accepting it.
“Inosuke, what’s wrong?” Tanjiro’s voice was soft, sweet. Inosuke wanted to find every shade of that voice in every bit of earth he tred. To recreate it in the colours of falling leaves and the sound of whistling wind.
He shook his head, hissing slightly, the sound mixed into a faint growl.
“…. nightmares?” Tanjiro guessed softly, finally. How did he know? How could he look into his eyes and know every part of him?
Inosuke grumbled, turning away in indignation. Tanjiro let out a soft huff- a simple sound. It wasn’t a cacophonous melody, like a conversation, or a swing dance like the heat of battle. It shouldn’t make Inosuke’s heart pound.
It does.
“Breathe,” whispered Tanjiro, hand moving to Inosuke’s back, tracing up and down. Gentle. There. Like no one else was.
“What was it this time?” he asked. As if he knew this had happened before. As if he’d just been waiting for the right moment to reach out and give up this kind of tender comfort.
“That damn upper 2,” Inosuke finally hissed between grit teeth. Tanjiro grimaced, understanding written into his brow. “He took your family from you. Of course you won’t forget that.”
That was it, wasn’t it? And how did Tanjiro know how to simplify that too? The emotions seemed to streamline in his chest — the grief and anger like two chords humming side by side, rather than tangled webs.
“Hurts,” he whispered.
Inosuke clenched his fists, not having the words for the conundrums that were tearing inside him. Could he even grieve for a mother he barely had known? Could he grieve for Shinobu, when despite her being the one he remembered most of all, he’d never been properly her child? Did he deserve to grieve her the same way that Kanao did?
Did he have any right to it? Did he have a right to these nightmares?
Did he have a right or even the ability to let go?
“That pain isn’t something you forgive, or forget. You gotta learn to understand it, not to… move on from it,” Tanjiro murmured. “That’s why I kept fighting. My family was always with me. Their hearts beat through me, so I had to avenge them so they could beat easy.”
“Shinobu ain’t my family,” he said gruffly. “She… I wasn’t one of the butterfly girls.”
“You loved her like you would family,” Tanjiro said. “I think? If you did, that’s enough.”
Inosuke’s throat felt like it was closing up.
He couldn’t accept that. If he accepted her as his family, that meant he’d really lost her. She wasn’t just someone he knew who had died. She was his person, and she’d still died, only now it hurt twice as much.
“Why did both of em’ go?” Inosuke choked out. “Mama and Kocho. That can’t be right. I lost one, got another, then lost her again. Why?”
Tanjiro stroked his hair softly, sighing. “I don’t know, Ino. It isn’t fair, but…” he broke off, seeming caught for a second on his own grief. “You don’t have to choose one or the other. You can grieve two people, even if they filled the same role in your heart. Because they weren’t the same. You don’t have to put them in the same box. Okay?”
“But-“ Inosuke broke off, fingers tightening on Tanjiro’s kimono. When had he started grabbing onto Tanjiro’s kimono? “Douma…”
“Is a bastard that deserved every stab wound you gave him,” Tanjiro said, words filled with venom, and it was enough to make Inosuke raise his head.
And Inosuke could remember the feeling of his blades ripping through Douma’s neck.
Douma was dead. He really was dead. Inosuke had killed him! He’d finished him off, so that should be it! Why did it still hurt? Why didn’t the ache go away?
Why was he still weak ?
“I’m sorry for… being weak.” His voice was cracked, tight. Tanjiro stilled — then pulled him to his chest, arms capturing him in the folds. Inosuke cried. Tears streaming down his face, throat raw and chest aching with each heaving sob.
“You aren’t weak,” Tanjiro said fiercely. “You’re so strong, Inosuke. You’re the strongest.”
“When you were a demon- I couldn’t- I couldn’t do it, Tanjiro,” Inosuke wailed, shoulders shaking.
“That’s okay!” Tanjiro said back. “I couldn’t kill Nezuko either, when she was one! It’s not weak to want to protect those you care about. You’re strong. Okay? Don’t say anything else! You’re the strongest. You’re the King of the Mountain?”
“If I was strong, I woulda protected you from even being that big stupid demon!” Inosuke sobbed out again, clutching Tanjiro’s shoulders.
Shinobu and his Mama and the damn bloody demon faded from his head. Because now he had a new flavour of guilt springing to his tongue, another poison to choke him, the same way Douma had choked, the same way Shinobu had choked on her blood before Douma had eaten her. How he’d choked, falling down onto the ground as he drove the sword past Tanjiro, because he couldn’t do it.
Nothing in the world could take him and turn him into someone able to kill Tanjiro.
“No, no, Inosuke,” Tanjiro insisted, holding him so close, so warm and tight, and he smelled like oak and firewood and earth. “Don’t say that about yourself. It hurts me when you say you aren’t good enough. If they saw you like I saw you, they’d never say that. They’d… they’d think you’re the most beautiful, strong person in the world.”
Inosuke sucked in a breath. His chest, so tight with pain, now swam with warmth. It was confusing. It was overwhelming.
It was too much, and yet he wanted to keep it there, keep everything close and covered. “You’re so sweet!” he accused, jabbing a finger into Tanjiro’s chest, flustered and angry. “Why are you always so sweet?”
“Because I care about you, Inosuke,” Tanjiro told him, reaching a steady hand to cup Inosuke’s face. “Will you let me do that?”
Inosuke’s mind went blank, jaw going slack as he stared at those gentle sparkling eyes. Beautiful. That’s what Tanjiro had called him. Why was he using that word for Inosuke when it was obviously a word built for Tanjiro? Nothing was more beautiful than him right now. Certainly not Inosuke, tear stained cheeks and hunched over.
“Bastard,” he choked out, shoving again at Tanjiro’s chest, though lightly now. “Don’t do this to me!”
Tanjiro tilted his head, all lost puppy, big eyes and confused furrow to his brow. “Do what? What am I doing?”
Inosuke covered his face with his hands, not wanting to look at those eyes anymore. “You always make me feel so damn giddy! You bastard!”
Tanjiro stared.
Then gently reached out, taking one of Inosuke’s hands away from his face. “Does this,” he whispered, gaze even and intent. “make you giddy?” his voice thrummed gently with anxiety despite his composed look. He brought his hand to his mouth, pressing lips to Inosuke’s fingers.
Inosuke froze, that soft warm feeling spreading over him again. Then he yowled, jumping back. “What are you doing? What is that? Tanjiro!”
He’d heard from Kemitsu about what that thing meant. When you put your lips on someone. It was called a kiss, and mates did it. But he and Tanjiro weren’t mated. Right? Unless…
“Sorry!” Tanjiro yelped, scrambling back. “I just thought- I was wrong- I’m sorry, Inosuke, I-“
Inosuke made up his mind in the time that Tanjiro flailed and fumbled, grabbing him, and pushing his lips to Tanjiro’s. He half-missed, and their noses pressed awkwardly together, and he let go just as Tanjiro began to lean in.
But it was enough.
Tanjiro stared, cheeks and ears all pink. It was a good colour. Maybe Inosuke’s new favourite colour. He wanted to find out all the other colours he could turn Tanjiro.
“You…” Tanjiro’s hand moved to touch his lips. “Did you mean that?”
“Do I look like the type to not mean the things I say?” Inosuke snapped back, deeply offended and still a bit shaken from his nightmare and giddy all over from the way Tanjiro was looking at him and the things he’d said.
“Well, you didn’t really say that, you more-“ Tanjiro broke off, and because Inosuke was getting really impatient at his floundering, he pressed another kiss to his lips.
Tanjiro kissed him back almost instantly this time, grabbing him with both hands, falling to the cold grass. But it wasn’t cold. Tanjiro’s skin was warm, his breath hot and his hands gentle. He was like the sun. Warm and bright and always there. There to burn the demons away, to keep everyone safe and make them feel okay and happy.
“Inosuke,” Tanjiro murmured, pulling back.
“ Tanjiro ,” Inosuke hissed, pulling at him.
“I like it when you say my name,” Tanjiro told him, breath hitching, and why did that make Inosuke feel so exposed?
“I like you,” he said back, meaning to use the same attack method, only to discover it didn’t work at all — just made him feel even more flushed. But Tanjiro was flushed too. So they were tied.
“I like you a lot,” Tanjiro said back. “I want you to feel okay.” He pulled Inosuke against him again. “I want you to be able to find me when you get nightmares, not run out where I can’t find you. I want you to be safe.”
Inosuke’s mouth ran dry.
And he said, against everything he’d ever thought he’d say or know or understand to be true-
“I want you to keep me safe.”
This was all wrong.
He was supposed to be the one who protected. Not Tanjiro.
But it was so easy to let Tanjiro protect him. So easy to be his. So easy to melt into his touch and stay there.
Tanjiro let out a surprised breath- but then nodded, leaning his head against Inosuke’s shoulder. “I will.”
So Inosuke stayed.