Chapter Text
The Butterfly Mansion was coming into sight, bathed in the orange hues of the setting sun.
A sense of relief came over Zenitsu and he slowed down into a trot; while he’d calmed down a little since his last mission ended, the fear had been building back up in a crescendo for the past couple of hours, when he saw the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. So he’d ended up breaking into a sprint, heart racing.
As a trembling hand fumbled with the door, he attempted one of the breathing exercises Tanjiro had shown him, and his breathing evened out a little.
He was pathetic. If Gramps could see him now, having just had a fit over the mere possibility of being left outside at night, he’d be so ashamed.
He was supposed to be a Demon Slayer. Yet here he was, in tears, having just run from nothing.
Self-revulsion swirled.
No wonder Kaigaku hated him. He hated him, too.
He pushed open the door.
“Hi, Zenitsu-san! Welcome back!”
He didn’t need to look up to know it was Sumi who’d spoken—or that she was flanked by Naho and Kiyo.
His glum mood shifted instantly; had Sumi been worried about him? He felt a twinge of guilt at making her worry, but smiled at the trio of twelve year old girls.
“You were worried about me?!”
“Well…not really,” Naho said.
Zenitsu deflated.
“But we do hope your mission went well!” Kiyo added.
His mission…had gone about as usual.
Ever since Rengoku-san had been killed by Upper Three about three months ago, Zenitsu had been trying to be braver about missions, he really had, including solo ones. But by the time he’d made it to the location, he’d been a bundle of nerves, shaking nonstop and feeling like he was about to throw up at any second, and when he’d encountered the demon he could only scream and was certain he was about to die—but woke up to see the demon turning to ash.
He’d been saved by a civilian. Again.
(When he’d fallen to his knees sobbing thanking the only nearby villager for saving him, the villager had acted confused, but Zenitsu knew he was just being modest. There was no one else there who could’ve killed the demon, after all.)
He was about to respond when Zenitsu got distracted by a familiar comforting heartbeat, accompanied by footsteps coming down the hall.
“Zenitsu, you’re back!”
Zenitsu whirled around to see Tanjiro and wasted no time in launching himself at his friend.
“Tanjirooooo!” he wailed.
“Zenitsu—wait—” Tanjiro said, but it was too late.
Tanjiro grunted, but wrapped his arms around Zenitsu as he buried himself into Tanjiro’s chest.
“It was so scary, Tanjiro! I almost died! A civilian killed the demon for me after I fainted in sheer terror! If Gramps knew, he’d be so embarrassed…” Zenitsu sobbed. “And the sky kept getting darker and I wasn’t back yet and I’d definitely get eaten if I were still out there when it turned to night and I think I stopped breathing at least three times—”
Tanjiro’s dark red eyes took in Zenitsu’s exhausted face, the pallor, the tears building, the already-existent tear-stains underneath the loud panic.
“Zenitsu,” he said. “Slow down. You need to breathe.” He gently rubbed Zenitsu’s back. “You’re safe now. You made it back.”
“Barely,” Zenitsu bawled, sniffling as he tried to get a handle on his breathing.
Sumi, Naho, and Kiyo watched with a mixture of resignation and exhaustion; this was a routine they were used to at this point.
“Are you hurt, Zenitsu-san?” Sumi asked. “We can go get Aoi-san or Shinobu-san if you’re injured.”
“No,” Zenitsu said, brown eyes darting nervously down the hall for Aoi Kanzaki. For a girl only a few months older than him, she was certainly terrifying. “I’m fine…I guess my legs are a bit sore, but that’s probably because I ran here…”
Next to him, Tanjiro’s sound warmed and softened in a way Zenitsu knew meant concern and sympathy (because it was Tanjiro, and Zenitsu knew him). But underneath that, Zenitsu could still hear traces of the darker sounds that had been present in his friend since Rengoku-san’s death. It was a low, constant ache in Tanjiro’s heart, one that worried Zenitsu, and made Zenitsu feel both helpless (could he do anything to help Tanjiro?) and feel guilty for daring to feel miserable about anything at all.
The sound of footsteps leaving; the girls were moving along to treat other patients.
Zenitsu pulled out a furoshiki and undid it, taking the topmost bundle and practically throwing it at Tanjiro.
“Here! Take it! I only bought it because the shopkeeper kept staring me down!” he shouted.
Tanjiro blinked, gently unwrapping it—it was a soft and thick green and black checkered scarf—clearly expensive.
Tanjiro’s eyes widened—and his sound turned into something lighter and happy.
“It matches my haori!”
Zenitsu felt his face flushing.
“It’s a basic Ichimatsu pattern you country bumpkin, it just happened to be sitting on the front rack! It’s not like I spent three hours searching for your exact shade of green or anything so don’t get carried away!”
Never mind the fact that he had, in fact, done exactly that.
Tanjiro smiled at him—the exact one that made him feel like how he often felt around Nezuko.
…Because Tanjiro was Nezuko-adjacent, obviously.
“Thank you, Zenitsu,” Tanjiro said. “I’m glad you thought of me!”
“I told you! I didn’t—I—the shopkeeper was glaring at me—” Zenitsu stammered, but without any real bite.
Because for the first time in months, Tanjiro’s sound had a reprieve from that ache—and that made Zenitsu’s own heart feel much lighter.
“Come on,” Tanjiro said brightly, taking his hand (and Zenitsu ignored how that made his heart twang). “You’re probably hungry.”
When they walked into the kitchen, Tanjiro was still holding his hand.
He tried not to focus on that.
When they grabbed bowls of miso soup, Tanjiro finally let go of his hand.
And Zenitsu certainly did not feel disappointed by that.
“Where’s Inosuke, anyway?” Zenitsu asked.
“Oh, you just missed him,” Tanjiro said, as they carried their food back to one of the rooms. “He was sent out on a solo mission a few hours before you got back.”
“Oh,” Zenitsu said, feeling a mixture of disappointment and the usual concern he felt whenever one of his friends went on a mission. As loud as Inosuke could be, he was still his friend and Zenitsu would’ve liked to see him.
“Don’t worry,” Tanjiro said. “He’ll be back soon.”
Zenitsu’s spoon stopped partway to his mouth.
“I’m not worried!” he lied. “Why would I be worried about that overgrown boar?! If anyone should be worried, it’s the demons! That idiot’s probably out there swinging his swords and screaming loud enough to wake the dead! Actually, it’s peaceful without him trampling all over the place, maybe now I can get a good night’s sleep!”
“And for that matter,” Zenitsu continued, “I can even eat that box of surume I bought back at the village without worrying about that idiot stealing any!”
Tanjiro blinked.
“Zenitsu, you don’t even like surume,” Tanjiro said. “You can’t stand the texture.”
Zenitsu’s mind glitched.
Then, the blood came rushing to his face.
“I—I’m building up a tolerance! Tastes can change, Tanjiro, you don’t know everything about me! I’m—I’m full of secrets!” he shrieked, and took a large gulp of scalding soup, only to end up wheezing as he burned his throat.
He heard the sound of concern from Tanjiro, who poured him a glass of water and pushed it towards him.
Zenitsu snatched it and gulped it down, relishing the cool sensation down his aching throat.
Tanjiro smiled at him, eliciting a dangerous flip from Zenitsu’s stomach.
“You bought it for Inosuke,” Tanjiro said. “That was really kind of you, Zenitsu.”
“I didn’t!” Zenitsu snapped. “Besides, he’ll probably eat it so fast he’ll choke!”
Zenitsu kept his gaze fixed on his remaining soup; he knew that if he looked up and saw Tanjiro looked at him with such sweet affection, he’d probably die on the spot and ascend straight to the afterlife.
A part of him wanted to be angry with Tanjiro for it—why did he make him feel like this, how could he make him feel like this, how dare he make him feel like this—but he couldn’t.
He knew it wasn’t Tanjiro’s fault—and he liked feeling like this.
And for some reason, that made him feel guilty, like he was betraying Nezuko somehow.
But…that didn’t make sense.
He was still totally dedicated to her.
This feeling was just…a result of his feelings for Nezuko.
Right. It was because Tanjiro was Nezuko-Adjacent.
It was totally normal.
Zenitsu went back to his soup.
“Nezuko-chan!”
Shortly after finishing dinner, Nezuko emerged from her box and grew to her full size, looking as radiant as ever.
She smiled—or…he thought she did. It was hard to tell from behind the bamboo gag.
She waved at him—and his soul nearly left his body. She was so cute.
“I made it back, Nezuko-chan! For you!” he cried. He pulled out the furoshiki and untied it once again, and picked up a small box, which left a wooden box (the wooden box contained Inosuke’s surume) at the bottom. He shyly offered her the box, removing the lid, revealing a pink floral ceramic pin. “On my last mission, I saw this and thought of you. It’s really pretty, like you. Right?”
Nezuko tilted her head.
A knot formed in his stomach.
“Do—do you like it?” he asked.
A moment later, Nezuko took it and pinned it to her black haori. She nodded with a happy “mmph!”.
“You do?!” Zenitsu shrieked, his heart soaring. “You like it?! You really like it?! Should I go find some more?! I have more yen, I can get you more if you want—”
“That’s sweet of you, Zenitsu!” Tanjiro cut in, tightening his new scarf so that his chin was practically buried in it. “It’s so kind of you to think of Nezuko! But it’s late now, and you won’t get paid again until your next mission! We have to be responsible with money, you know!”
Zenitsu froze.
Something darker had slithered into Tanjiro’s heart; was he being too much for Nezuko? He didn’t want to overwhelm her.
She didn’t seem bothered, and he couldn’t hear any sounds of distress no matter how hard he listened, but…
Nezuko was kind, unfailingly so, right? Like Tanjiro. It was unbelievable how kind she was.
It was why he liked her.
Maybe she was too nice to be mad about it.
“I’m sorry, Nezuko-chan,” he said.
“Wait, no, Zenitsu, I didn’t mean…” Tanjiro began as Nezuko’s brows furrowed in confusion.
“Huh?” Zenitsu said. “But you sounded…”
“No—Zenitsu, listen. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just…I’m not used to people courting her.”
Nezuko patted Zenitsu on the head.
His eyes watered at Nezuko’s angelic kindness.
He…was fine? He hadn’t done anything wrong? A sort of quiet relief settled over him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten upset,” Tanjiro said.
“It’s okay, Tanjiro,” Zenitsu said. “I’m not mad.”
Tanjiro tugged the scarf up even higher, and Zenitsu felt a sort of triumph at that—and felt a sort of flip in his stomach. Tanjiro really did like the scarf. And making Tanjiro happy also made Nezuko happy, so it was a win-win!
“Still,” Tanjiro said, voice slightly muffled by the scarf. “I…do really love the scarf. Thank you.”
At that, Zenitsu let out an entirely undignified squeak as his face felt like it got set on fire, and an overwhelming pleased warmth crescendoed into Tanjiro’s sound.
“Y-you’re right that it’s late though,” Zenitsu said hastily. “We should get to bed.”
Tanjiro nodded, and they changed into their yukata and climbed into bed (or flung themselves into bed, in Zenitsu’s case).
Thankfully, sleep took him quickly.
Zenitsu awoke to chirping.
“Huh…Chuntaro…? Knock it off, I’m trying to sleep…”
His eyes slid shut—only for a sharp pain to erupt in the center of his forehead.
“HEY! WHAT THE HELL!” he shouted, shooting up on the futon. Chuntaro was standing next to the futon, turning his beak up at him.
Tanjiro’s crow was here, too—and Tanjiro himself was already up and getting ready (why was he always up so early?).
“Joint Mission! Joint Mission! Tanjiro Kamado! Zenitsu Agatsuma!” Tanjiro’s crow, Matsuemon, cawed.
“What?” Zenitsu sniffled. “I just got back! I don’t wanna go!”
“It’ll be fine, Zenitsu, we’ll be together this time,” Tanjiro said, giving him an encouraging smile.
“Head to Ushigome, where young boys are disappearing!”
At that everything seemed to stop, and Zenitsu’s blood ran cold.
…What?
The Corps was sending him where?
“Zenitsu?”
The universe truly hated him, didn’t it?
“Zenitsu?” Tanjiro said again, but it sounded distant, like it was coming from underwater. The encouraging smile was still on his face, but instead of making his stomach do flip flops or making him feel better like usual, it just made him feel sicker.
Ushigome was the feeling of constant hunger, the smell of the expensive perfumes of each woman who’d tricked him into ruin time and time again, of the footsteps the loan sharks chasing him down, threatening to beat him into submission if he didn’t pay up, to send him somewhere he’d never see the daylight again, to work him to the bone—it was the exact alleyway where Gramps had bought his debt and taken him to a life of grueling training at a peach orchard.
He couldn’t go back. That meant facing the miserable unwanted runt he was. And while she had gone and married someone else and left the city, there were six others who could still be in town who knew full well how worthless he was.
Unable to speak, he shook his head.
“Zenitsu?” Tanjiro said, his nose twitching. “Are you okay…? Your scent…You’re terrified. Is it the demon?”
“No…I mean yes!” Zenitsu said, latching onto the excuse. “Of course it’s the demon. “Young boys are disappearing, Tanjiro! They’re being eaten! They’re a full scale five star course for some demon! Of course I’m terrified!”
Zenitsu yanked at his hair, his breaths coming in short bursts.
“But—But that’s not—if I go back to Ushigome, I—I’ll be dead, I—the demon probably won’t even have time to eat me—”
Chuntaro swooped in, pecking at his fingers.
“Stop it, Chuntaro!” Zenitsu bawled.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe.
Tanjiro grasped his hands, pulling them away from his hair.
“Zenitsu. Breathe with me, okay? Breathe.”
In. Out. In. Out.
Zenitsu attempted to match Tanjiro’s breathing, and it gradually returned to a shaky normal.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Tanjiro said quietly. “But whatever it is, I promise we’ll get through it together, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you, Zenitsu.”
And Zenitsu wanted to believe him. He really did. But while the words would have normally brought him comfort during any other mission, they just seemed to ring hollow on this one.
Because he wasn’t even sure if Tanjiro would even want anything to do with him after this mission was complete ever again.