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Inosuke couldn’t sleep.
The infirmary was nothing like the mountains: too clinical, too clean, too perfect. Plus, it stank of antiseptic. He couldn’t stand it. He was used to finding a good cave and curling up inside it for the night.
He rooted around for his boar mask. It had slipped off at some point, he was sure. Upon finding it - he was right, it had migrated all the way to the foot of the sickbed - Inosuke’s fingers ran through the coarse fur.
There was a quiet sniffling to the side of him.
Zenitsu again, if Inosuke had to guess. Sunflower-Head always did tend to be a–
Oh.
Inosuke blinked at the sickbed on his right.
Zenitsu was fast asleep, cuddling the covers. Inosuke looked closer, but there wasn’t a single tear on the boy’s face. In fact, he was smiling in his sleep.
Inosuke heard the sniffle again. Sure enough, as he creeped out of his bed and over to his left, to Tanjiro, there it was. A telltale bunch of tears, trailing down Acorn-Head’s cheeks.
Inosuke poked his cheek.
“Gonpachiro? Hey! I know you can hear me!”
He hissed.
“Wake up! Don’t ignore me, Gonpachiro!”
The look on Tanjiro’s face as he opened his eyes sent an uncomfortable pang through Inosuke’s body. It reminded him of that time he’d eaten some bad fish when he was still living in the mountains. Why was Tanjiro’s face trying to poison him?
“...Shigeru?”
Inosuke’s brows furrowed.
“Hah? What did I tell you, Kamaboko? I’m Inosuke, remember it!”
Tanjiro’s eyes were leaking. And he was still sniffling. The uncomfortable pang pulsed through Inosuke again, and he perched on Tanjiro’s sickbed as the other boy sat up.
“...What’sa matter? Why’re you crying?”
Tanjiro shook his head, wiping his eyes quietly. Inosuke puffed up.
“Don’t keep secrets from me! Tell me why you’re crying! Big Boss Inosuke can’t fix shit if you don’t tell me.”
“...Just a bad dream. I’m sorry to wake you, Inosuke. Please don’t worry about me.”
Tanjiro’s smile was soft, but Inosuke wasn’t stupid. He could feel the sadness coming off his friend in waves.
“Dumbass. I was already awake. And I don’t worry. I just don’t like secrets. So, out with it.”
Tanjiro sighed, the noise shaky and quiet.
“I-I, uh. I dreamed of my family. Dreamed of my brothers and sisters. Playing with them, y’know?”
His smile wobbled.
“Then of them… o-of…”
Inosuke flinched as Tanjiro began to cry quietly again.
“If I’d not stayed away that night, maybe they’d still–”
Inosuke cut him off.
“Shut up. You weren’t as strong back then. Y’ would’ve died. And then I’d be stuck with Monitsu and Nezumi. He’d probably keep try’na marry her, so it’s better that you’re here, dumbass.”
He pulled Tanjiro close.
“Maybe y’ couldn’t save your brothers and sisters. You saved one, though. And you’re pretty kick-ass now, even though you’re way too nice to idiots. And- and it sucks that they died, but you gotta do ‘em proud, right? ‘S what I decided to do after Boar Mama got killed.”
Tanjiro hiccuped, trying to pull himself together. God, Inosuke’s words reminded him so badly of Nezuko right now.
A few years before his father had died, his grandmother had, too. Everyone in the family had been in pieces, but especially the little ones. But Nezuko, in all her sweetness and her wisdom beyond her years had told them to cry all they could for one day, then focus on being happy and doing Baa-chan proud after that.
It had lifted even Tanjiro’s own spirits.
Even so, this felt… different. Baa-chan had died naturally, just getting too old. Even his dad had died of natural causes, though it hardly seemed fair even now.
His mother, Shigeru, Takeo, Hanako, Rokuta… they’d all been stolen from him. Even Nezuko had, really. All of them had so much more life to live, so much more happiness to share.
Tanjiro tried to focus on the smell of Inosuke, rather than the smell of his family’s blood invading his memory.
“...What was your boar mother like?” He rasped.
Inosuke shrugged.
“Warm. Safe. She was kinda weirdly gentle, too. I used to curl up against her in the underbrush. I found out how to hunt from her. After she died, I cut her pelt so I could… dunno. Keep her with me, I guess?”
He glanced at Tanjiro, searching for any mockery in the other boy’s eyes.
There was none.
“She taught me how to be tough. And now I can make her proud, cuz I’m King of the Mountains and I slay demons.”
It was quiet for a moment, before Tanjiro broke it.
“...Do you ever miss her?”
Inosuke stopped.
Immediately, the hard nights came to mind. The first night after their ordeal on Mt. Natagumo, when he’d felt so weak and useless. He remembered how he’d curled himself in the sheets, squeezing his eyes shut and pretending the fur of his mask was still living, still warm, still going up and down so steadily. He’d deny it to anyone who asked, but he’d pressed the snout against his hair, pretending he was still little, and his Boar Mama was doing her best to soothe him.
He wanted to deny it. To puff his chest up and declare it’d be stupid and weak to miss people who were long gone. But one look at Tanjiro, and he knew that he couldn’t say such a thing. Maybe he wasn’t the brightest when it came to scholarly shit, but Inosuke was smart when it came to his instincts, and his instincts were screaming at him that his friend needed to be comforted. Besides, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t.
He nodded. The night was quiet, even the grasshoppers and cicadas not making a noise.
“...Yeah. I do.”
An idea came to Inosuke. He lay down on Tanjiro’s bed (much to the other boy’s confusion), curling up and pulling him down against his chest. For a second, he grappled around for his boar mask, eventually placing the snout of it against Tanjiro’s hair. Without a word, Inosuke wrapped his arms around him.
“...You should sleep better like this, Santaro. I always did.”
Tanjiro blinked as Inosuke made the finishing touches and pulled the covers around him. It was almost enough to bring tears back to his eyes once more, but he was pretty sure Inosuke would be even more worried if he cried right now.
Instead, he took a deep breath through his nose.
Everyone Tanjiro had ever come across had a different smell. His mother had smelled like fresh linen, Rokuta had smelled soft. Of course, his family had always smelled similar, with a hint of charcoal. Kibutsuji, the one time he’d come across him, had smelled like death and anger. Zenitsu always smelled faintly like petrichor and static, the scent of peaches somehow making its way in.
Inosuke smelled familiar. Tanjiro supposed it’d be on account of them both growing up near or in the mountains. Besides that, he smelled of forests, rivers, and sometimes of mud - though Tanjiro could never find it in himself to mind.
And in that moment, with the other boy curled protectively around him, Tanjiro could smell the warmth. It brought him right back to the old winter nights when his little siblings would huddle up with him in his futon.
Ah, that’s right, Tanjiro found himself thinking as he drifted off, he smells like home.