nicol-chan

[nicol-chan]

Dibujillo

[nicol-chan]

Zenitsu Hashira. (Alternate Universe)--Tomioka.

Single part

Zenitsu Agatsuma. Thunder Hashira. And yet… he trembled.

It wasn’t that he had been seen fighting. Zenitsu rarely fought in the presence of others. He always seemed to disappear before the direct clash and return after the battle, covered in someone else’s blood, but with trembling hands.

Reports described him as a demon slayer as fast as lightning, a human thunderbolt who left no room for his enemies. But Tomioka hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

Only the aftermath. The trembling. The silence. The emotional exhaustion.

His steps were unsteady. His voice fluctuated between a tremble and a shout. He wore fear like a second skin. And even so, he was still there.

Sitting among them. With the Pillars' buttons. With that nervous smile that seemed to ask for permission to exist. And worst of all… was that everyone accepted him.

Mitsuri treated him like a younger brother, always worried about whether he ate well or stayed warm. Tengen —as flamboyant as he was— would throw him pieces of fruit and make lighthearted jokes, as if he were a fellow actor. And Zenitsu, without fail, would hide behind him every time Sanemi raised his voice, which only irritated the Wind Pillar further. But even Sanemi, when shouting at him with his usual harshness, seemed to acknowledge his presence. To acknowledge him as one of their own.

Zenitsu was not excluded. Not like him.

Every time Tomioka went to the Butterfly Mansion to treat his wounds, he saw him there. Zenitsu helped carry bandages, held bowls of water, tried to comfort the younger ones. Sometimes he stuttered, sometimes his eyes looked tearful, but he didn’t back away. He didn’t run from the wounded bodies or the cries.

He stayed. Why was that wrong? Because it reflected him.

Because seeing him there, with the title of Hashira, forced Tomioka to look at himself. To remember all the times he had doubted. All the times he had asked himself if he truly deserved that name, that place, that sword. And then, inevitably, he thought:

“Was he also a mistake?”

“Was he put here by accident… like me?”

It wasn’t contempt. Tomioka rarely felt contempt. It was fear.

If Zenitsu didn’t deserve to be there… then neither did he. And that idea tore him apart more than he was willing to admit. He said nothing. He just looked at him, impassive. The conversation came like a crack in the silence.

Tomioka, seated in the infirmary of the Butterfly Mansion, silently observed the garden. There, Zenitsu was kneeling, picking up sheets that the wind had blown away. Every time a girl from the mansion approached to help him, he would apologize, laughing awkwardly, though he kept trying to help.

—That boy… is too soft —murmured Tomioka, more to himself than to Shinobu. She didn’t look up at first. She finished wrapping the bandage on his arm, and only then spoke, in a calm tone, without her usual sarcasm.

—Does that make him less worthy?

Tomioka didn’t reply. There was something about Zenitsu that made him uncomfortable. Not because he was bad. But because… he reminded him too much of himself. Shinobu, as if sensing it, set the bandage aside and looked directly at him.

—Tomioka-san. Did you know Zenitsu was promoted to Hashira shortly after his master took his own life?

Tomioka raised his eyebrows slightly. He didn’t know. Shinobu continued, without drama, but with a clarity that hurt.

—Jigoro Kuwajima was his master. He committed suicide after learning that his best student, Kaigaku, had become a demon by his own will. Zenitsu had no intention of rising in rank. He hadn’t even become an official slayer when that happened. She paused for a moment, as if unsure whether to go on.

—Zenitsu trained alone, after his master fell. He forced himself to stay on the path and began hunting demons on his own. By the time he finally took the selection exam, he had already killed several. When he received his sword, he didn’t seek power. He only wanted to avenge his master. Tomioka looked down, tense.

—He killed Kaigaku, who by coincidence happened to be a Lower Moon. —said Shinobu—. Not for glory. Not for rank. He went after him knowing it would be a fight to the death… because he couldn’t allow his master’s name to be stained by a traitor. A silence settled between them. Outside, Zenitsu tripped again and ended up with dirt on his face. The girls laughed softly. So did he.

—Then why is he still like that? —Tomioka whispered—. Why didn’t he change?

—Because that’s his heart. He didn’t stop being who he was. He didn’t turn cynical. He didn’t stop crying. He didn’t stop being afraid. Many of us hardened. But he didn’t. And still, he kept going.

And finally, with a strange sweetness in her voice, Shinobu concluded:

—That he remains himself, after all that… is precisely what makes him worthy of being a Hashira.

Tomioka didn’t reply. But something inside him, an old and painful suspicion, began to waver.

The sunset dyed the corridors of the Demon Slayer headquarters orange. Tomioka walked silently down the hallway connecting the Hashira meeting area with the inner garden. A recent report spoke of a mid-rank demon who had been escaping the extermination corps for weeks. He had volunteered to take care of it… but, to his annoyance, Ubuyashiki-Sama had assigned Zenitsu Agatsuma, the Thunder Hashira, as his partner.

Tomioka found him waiting in the garden, sitting on his heels. He was perfectly dressed in his yellow haori, hands clasped, watching a butterfly that had landed on a flower. His expression was strangely calm.

—Tomioka-San —Zenitsu said, standing up abruptly.— Thank you for coming. Tomioka didn’t answer immediately. He observed him from the doorway.

“So obviously fragile…”, he thought. He had never said it out loud. But his silence had already made it clear.

— I wasn’t the one who decided this —he finally said, without approaching.— I have nothing to add.

Zenitsu forced a smile. Although his posture was calm, his shoulders barely trembled. Tomioka noticed.

—Is there something wrong with me…? —Zenitsu asked suddenly, barely audible, without looking at him—…

Tomioka barely frowned.

—I don’t make hasty judgments —he replied, almost automatically.

—But you think I shouldn’t be a Hashira. That I don’t deserve to be in this position.

Silence was his answer. A silence so cold it hurt more than a statement. Zenitsu’s eyes filled with restrained tears and he forced a sad smile. This time, he kept silent. Said nothing. Finally, in a low voice, almost trembling but clear, he said:

—I’m here because I want my master to be proud of me. Because Lord Ubuyashiki trusted me… and I can’t betray that trust. Even if sometimes I don’t trust myself, they did. And that’s enough for me to keep moving forward.

Tomioka clenched his fists. A memory exploded in his mind. Sabito, covered in blood, still smiling at him as he faded away.

“Why wasn’t I the one who died…?”

—It’s not about fear —Tomioka said, almost a whisper.— Not everyone who fears is weak… But I can’t understand how someone who cries in the halls can be a Pillar of the Demon Slayers.

Zenitsu looked at him calmly. Although his eyes were wet, his voice did not tremble.

—Maybe you’ll never understand. But even with all that fear… I’m still here. And that says something, doesn’t it?

He bowed his head, as if offering a soft nod, without sarcasm or submission. Just a sign of respect.

—Thank you for coming. Even if you don’t believe in me yet… And without another word, he turned around and walked down the garden path, leaving Tomioka alone among the shadows stretched by the sunset.

*****************************

The forest smoked. The trees, blackened by the strike of lightning, creaked as the fire died under the fine rain beginning to fall. The demon’s body lay charred, reduced to ashes beside the rock where it had tried to devour a girl.

Tomioka watched silently the figure of Zenitsu standing among the remains. It had been a matter of seconds. One. A single movement.

Zenitsu had not screamed. He had not cried. He had not shrunk back in fear. He simply vanished, like a lightning bolt. And appeared again when it was all over. But now, standing before what was left of the enemy, Zenitsu did not seem victorious. He stood with his back turned, shoulders slightly slumped.

—He regrets it —he murmured.

Tomioka frowned. He did not understand.

—Who?

—The demon —Zenitsu said without looking at him—. I could hear it...There was a heavy silence between them.—That doesn’t justify it —Zenitsu continued, in a soft voice—. I just… heard it. Sometimes I wish I didn’t. Because it hurts. But if I ignore it… it wouldn’t be fair. To anyone.

Tomioka looked at him for a long moment. That boy who once seemed weak, crying, fragile… Now appeared to carry a weight even he didn’t know how to hold. A weight not born from the fight, but from everything he felt. And Tomioka began, for the first time, to understand something. Zenitsu was not a Hashira despite his tears. He was one because of them.

That sensitivity he had mistaken for fragility was, in truth, a kind of strength that could not be measured with swords.

—You risked yourself to protect that girl —Tomioka finally said—. I could have intervened, but… it wasn’t necessary.

Zenitsu lowered his gaze, as if unsure whether it was a compliment or a criticism.

—Thank you for accompanying me —he whispered—. I know it wasn’t necessary, but I’m glad you were here.

He turned to leave, his steps soft on the wet earth. But before walking away completely, Tomioka spoke.

—You’re right. I don’t understand many things… But now I understand why Lord Ubuyashiki trusts you.

Zenitsu stopped. Just for a moment. Said nothing. But his shoulders no longer trembled. And when he resumed his steps, Tomioka noticed he did so with more resolve.

************************

Tomioka stood there, motionless. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel completely sure of his own judgment.

The Hashira barracks were quieter than usual. A gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly brewed tea, and a chorus of cicadas filled the air with summery sounds.

Zenitsu sat on the porch, legs crossed, a small tray resting on his lap. He held a piece of sweet potato dessert that Mitsuri had given him and ate it slowly, as if chewing too fast might ruin the afternoon.

Tomioka stayed at a respectful distance, watching him with the same intensity one uses when looking at a stone on the path that might be a sleeping animal.

Zenitsu blinked. He waited for him to speak. Nothing. Tomioka seemed to hesitate… then, without a word, he approached stiffly and… sat down beside him. But not in the solemn silence he was used to. With visible awkwardness, he pulled out a small package wrapped in cloth and placed it between them.

— I made this this morning — he said, almost whispering — It’s not… it’s not much. But I thought…

He stopped himself. Zenitsu looked at him with wide, surprised eyes. He carefully opened the package. Inside were some sweet rice balls filled with plum. Clumsily shaped, a little uneven.

— You made these? — he asked, as if he couldn’t believe it.

Tomioka nodded without looking at him.

— They’re not poisonous.

— I didn’t think they were! — Zenitsu said quickly, with a nervous smile.

There was a silence. A comfortable silence, this time. Zenitsu took one and tasted it. His cheeks brightened just a little.

— It’s good… — he said, almost as if talking to himself.

Tomioka didn’t know what to say. He had brought that gift just because he read in a book — probably one Shinobu had left for him strategically — that sharing food was a way to show appreciation.

But the sparkle in Zenitsu’s eyes caught him off guard.

— Thank you — said Zenitsu with a shy smile — Sometimes I think you don’t really like me, but… this makes me think maybe that’s not quite true.

Tomioka looked down. It was easier to fight against the waning moons than to respond to that. Finally, he murmured:

— I don’t mind noisy people. It’s just… I have trouble understanding them.

Zenitsu laughed quietly. Then he offered one of his sweet potato treats.

— Want to try? Mitsuri says sharing desserts makes friendship grow faster.

Tomioka hesitated. Then took a small piece. He chewed with an almost solemn slowness. Zenitsu watched him expectantly.

— …It’s okay — said Tomioka.

— Only “okay”?! Tomioka-san, that’s the most you’re going to say! — Zenitsu laughed again, more relaxed.

They spent a few minutes like that, sharing bites and soft breezes. Then, without looking at him, Zenitsu murmured:

— Sometimes… I hear your sound.

Tomioka blinked.

— My sound?

— Yes. We all have one, you know? Yours is melancholic. It sounds like a stream of water unsure whether it’s flowing toward the sea or into nothingness. And… it sounds full of doubt.

Tomioka stayed still, as if those words had reached deeper than expected. Then, in a low voice, he confessed:

— I shouldn’t be here.

Zenitsu looked at him, confused.

— When I took the hunter exam, my best friend died fighting. I… I just survived. Not because of skill. Because of luck. He fought, he screamed… and I… passed. I passed because they didn’t find me. I passed because I hid.

Zenitsu was silent for a few seconds.

— I don’t believe that — he finally said, with an uncommon seriousness for him. Tomioka lifted his gaze.

— Your sound… it sounds strong. Not like Tengen’s, or Gyomei’s, or Mitsuri-chan’s. But it’s strong all the same. Because it persists.

He turned to him, with the clearest expression Tomioka had ever seen on him.

— Not all of us are equally strong. Not all of us were born to stand out. But we all have something to offer. You are here. You are still here. That is strength too.

Tomioka clenched his fist slightly. Zenitsu lowered his gaze to the rice balls.

— Sometimes I also think that… maybe Kaigaku should have been the Hashira. He was more serious, stronger, more determined… he had everything to make it. And I… I was just the clumsy one hiding in the trees.

A pause.

— But when I feel that way, I think of my grandfather. How he always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. And then I remember that being here isn’t about deserving it… it’s about honoring those who loved me.

Tomioka looked at him for a long moment.

For the first time, not like a talking stone, nor like a whirlwind of screams. He looked at him as an equal.

And in that instant, beneath the soft afternoon sun, they were no longer just two Hashira sitting and eating sweets.

They were a young man who needed to be heard, and a man who, little by little, was beginning to allow himself to be understood.

*********************

Curiosities:

The first time Zenitsu hugged him without warning, Tomioka froze. The second time, he patted him on the back. The third, he returned the hug. They didn’t say anything.

Tomioka doesn’t understand how Zenitsu can trip over the same step three times… in five minutes. Even more puzzling: how he can dodge five demons.

When Tomioka is eating alone, Zenitsu always sits next to him without saying a word. Sometimes he talks about his day, sometimes they just eat in silence. Tomioka doesn’t say it, but… if Zenitsu doesn’t show up, he loses a bit of his appetite.

Tomioka doesn’t know how to react when Zenitsu cries over small things. Once he comforted him with a “It wasn’t that bad,” and Zenitsu cried even more… but this time out of tenderness. Now he just hands him a handkerchief.

**********************************************

I'm not that good at English, so if there's any mistake, sorry.

[nicol-chan]

@freshie-owo fanart for chapter 17~💜

"He writhes under Tengen’s touch, limbs flailing, laughing and laughing and laughing.

Tengen can’t help it. He laughs, too."

I can't help but just imagine Zenitsu having brought the spark of life back into Tengen's eyes with his birth, only to take it with him and disappearing. I just can't help but imagine the kind of expression Tengen must have made then, having Zenitsu laughing by his administrations instead of being deathly afraid of his touch. To have the final piece of his heart beginning to accept him must have been the most exhilarating feeling in the world.

Suma don't play about her baby she fucking TOSSED HIM TO THE OTHER STREET(LITERALLY). Honestly I love how for her gentleness and whining, she does not hesitate to charge because she knew she could K.O. this man in an instant. Once again, Zenitsu sharing similarity with one of his mothers. 'Weak' until his family is involved.

Next chapter prediction Tengen does not play about his baby either he just got him back he ain't about to let ANYBODY come in and be a roadblock to his dream of a peaceful life with his family let this man murder a hoe/silly

[nicol-chan]

@freshie-owo fanart for chapter 17~💜

"He writhes under Tengen’s touch, limbs flailing, laughing and laughing and laughing.

Tengen can’t help it. He laughs, too."

I can't help but just imagine Zenitsu having brought the spark of life back into Tengen's eyes with his birth, only to take it with him and disappearing. I just can't help but imagine the kind of expression Tengen must have made then, having Zenitsu laughing by his administrations instead of being deathly afraid of his touch. To have the final piece of his heart beginning to accept him must have been the most exhilarating feeling in the world.

Suma don't play about her baby she fucking TOSSED HIM TO THE OTHER STREET(LITERALLY). Honestly I love how for her gentleness and whining, she does not hesitate to charge because she knew she could K.O. this man in an instant. Once again, Zenitsu sharing similarity with one of his mothers. 'Weak' until his family is involved.

Next chapter prediction Tengen does not play about his baby either he just got him back he ain't about to let ANYBODY come in and be a roadblock to his dream of a peaceful life with his family let this man murder a hoe/silly

[nicol-chan]

idk why ppl keep assuming zenitsu got groomed when thats probably not the case at all. from canon material, we know that he was abandoned by his parents without a name, engaged seven times, and was put in debt before meeting jigoro. we also get the information that the ex-fiances talked behind his back, tricked him, used him as a slave, robbed him, and didn't let him hold their hands... so why would they groom him if they didnt let him touch them? sure, we can say that hes groomed because of the detail that he knew what the red light district is but remember that hes canonically a city boy, so of course hes gonna know what that place is.

Confession 60.

[nicol-chan]

😍😍😍😍It sounds so good to you, and using those words in my writing makes it even better. Because those were the very words I wanted to convey Zenitsu's pain.

🥺🥺🥺🥺

"He had forgotten for a moment.Zenitsu was a Hashira.He was one of them.Despite everything.Despite looking like a lost child.

Despite trembling and crying and seeking shelter behind others.

He had gotten there with hands stained by decisions none of them wanted to make.

He had killed his superior."

"Maybe… seeing Kamado fight for his sister, maybe that hope had touched him more than he himself understood."

@nicol-chan ! Part 1 of Tengen and Zenitsu wua

Much love! I enjoy your AU very much

[nicol-chan]

"¿Sabes? Mi Zenitsu y tú no son tan diferentes."

"¿Eso crees?"

Es un wip pero mi AU Aoi conoce a tu AU Zenitsu :>

Mi niño ... Creo Aoi estaría algo enternecida al ver mi Zenitsu, ya que le recordaría como era Zenitsu antes. Pero también al ver a pesar del dolor aun es capas de ser el mismo.

aun que también creo que mi Zenitsu se pondría avergonzado y rojo ya que escucharía los sentimiento de Aoi cuando habla de su Zenitsu,

[nicol-chan]

AAAA FDIOS ESTÁ HERMOSO. HERMOSO. ME ENCANTÓ.

Por puro coincidente, justo momento que voy a postear esto me dio un follow! Jejejeje

@nicol-chan si me encanto su diseño de Zenitsu! El y Mitsuri son los cuties del equipo jajajaja

[nicol-chan]

Zenitsu Hashira. (Alternate Universe)

Part Second

His wives weren't responding.

Nothing since they had been sent on a mission to the Red District. And for someone like him, used to being in control, uncertainty was a slow poison.

Oyakata-sama, with his serene tone, had given him permission to act.

—Do not face this alone. Choose wisely whom you will take with you.

And so, Tengen prepared himself.

His first choice was quick: Aoi Kanzaki.

She was capable, discreet, had been trained by Shinobu. But the moment he suggested she come, the girl turned pale.

—T-Tengen-sama… I don't want to… please…

She tried to mask her fear with politeness, but Tengen had a good ear, and the tremble in her voice was as clear as thunder on a moonless night.

For a moment, the shinobi trained to see others as pieces felt tempted to insist. But something inside him... stopped. And as if summoned, that voice cut through him.

—Don't do it! Tengen-san—Tengen might've found it amusing that the boy dared use his name so casually. But he was worried about his wives, and could only look at him with irritation. The Hashira. The second youngest. The most emotional. And, lately, the hardest to deal with.

—Don't take her! —he repeated, eyes glossy, posture tense—. Aoi is a Demon Slayer, yes, but she's also a healer. She's here to save us when we come back half-dead. Tengen narrowed his eyes. There was arrogance in his words… and yet, they didn’t ring false. They were desperate. Human. Like everything that came out of that boy who cried easily, but didn’t back down when it mattered.

—Stay out of what doesn’t concern you, Zenitsu —he said in a low tone, more exasperated than threatening.

And yet, he glanced sideways at him.

Zenitsu was still pale, with dark circles. The wound from the battle against the Upper Moon still affected him, though he hid it well. Rengoku had told him everything: how the boy had thrown himself into the fight without hesitation, how they fought side by side when things became unsustainable.

And, despite everything, here he was. Standing. Defending a girl who could barely raise her voice. Once again putting himself between others and danger.

He’d already done it with the Kamado siblings.

And on the Train, he fought until he passed out to make sure no one else died.

Tengen had barely opened his mouth to scold Zenitsu when Tanjiro and Inosuke appeared suddenly, like actors entering before their cue. Tanjiro firmly asked to go with him, and

Inosuke, yelling like a possessed boar, promised they'd kick asses and find his wives.

Tengen looked at them for a moment, somewhere between exasperated and… touched. Three brats—one injured, one with a will of steel, and the third roaring like a beast. He didn’t know if it was luck or madness.

And yet…

Zenitsu with the tears held back.

For a second, he thought of refusing. Of taking Aoi anyway.

But when his eyes returned to Zenitsu —with his hands clenched, lips trembling—, something inside him gave way. He was tired. Worried. And yes, guilty.

Because even though he was a Hashira, even though he was a shinobi, he couldn’t help but feel there was something cruel in using those who didn’t want to be there.

Tengen accepted and told them that the three of them would go with him, but warned that if they made noise, ruined the mission, or cried too much in public, he would leave them dressed as oiran and tied up in a brothel until someone rescued them. And when Zenitsu lowered his head, with a barely audible sob,

Tengen clicked his tongue.

Talking strategy with a trio of impulsive teenagers was not Tengen Uzui’s ideal definition of elegance. Even less so when one of them —a Hashira, no less— looked like he’d sucked on a lemon since he started talking about his wives.

Tengen unfolded a map of the Red Light District, marking the entertainment houses where his wives had been infiltrated.

—The Tokito House. The Kyogoku. And the Ogimoto. My wives infiltrated each one of them, but they have stopped sending information for days. We will split up. You will go disguised and work on gathering intel.

Then, he noticed Zenitsu’s gaze fixed on him. Furrowed brow, eyes narrowed. And not because of the strategy.

—Did you say… wives? —the boy asked, with a mixture of bewilderment and offense that almost made Tengen laugh.

—Three —repeated Tengen with a triumphant air.

The Hashira blinked. Then did it again, as if hoping he would correct himself.

But no. Tengen smiled with all the shine of his eccentricity.

—If you had accepted any of my many dinner invitations, you would’ve known that a while ago —he added dramatically.

Zenitsu murmured something, not looking at him.

A sour grumble, almost inaudible… to anyone but someone like Tengen.

—Three… Three… You can’t be that handsome, strong, brilliant, and on top of that have three wives… That’s hogging… I give up. —The boy seemed to be throwing a tantrum —Why keep trying? If someone like Tengen-sama already has triple of what one could dream of… And here I am, keeping a promise not to marry to honor my grandfather… and I don’t even have anyone to break it with.

Tengen, who wanted to be serious, couldn’t help but laugh. Still laughing, he leaned toward him and ruffled his hair.

Tanjiro watched them closely, and for a moment it seemed he was going to intervene to say something, but then he smiled warmly. Inosuke, meanwhile, was already crouched, sniffing the ground like an animal, eating the scraps that had fallen.

The group set off toward the district. And that’s when he noticed it.

Zenitsu’s face was red to the ears. His eyes were fixed on the ground and his hands covering his ears.

—What’s wrong now, Bright Hashira? Did someone else’s makeup scare you? —Tengen asked with a half smile, unable to resist teasing him.

Zenitsu trembled slightly, still covering himself.

—My ear… doesn’t just pick up sounds —he whispered—. I hear emotions. Desires. Intentions. Here… everything is confusing. My head burns… I’m trying to concentrate to listen to the demon… but I didn’t regulate my ability well.

Tengen stood still for a moment.

That caught him by surprise.

An ear like that… even more refined than his. He hadn’t expected it.

He gave him a different look. Not mocking. Not annoyed. But one of true respect. But since it wasn’t his style to give compliments, he just clicked his tongue.

—Then you go first —he said sarcastically—. If you can hear that much, I want detailed reports on who’s lying with their eyelashes and who really keeps secrets. Zenitsu looked at him as if he didn’t know whether he was serious.

Then came the fun part. The disguise.

Tengen dragged them to one of the contact houses that still owed him favors. They sat in front of the mirrors and the transformation began.

Tanjiro was easy. He stayed still, smiling, not saying a word while they painted him. Inosuke squirmed, protesting that he wanted to eat.

And then…

Zenitsu.

—No. Not even dead. —he said, pushing the brush away— I’ll do my own makeup! —What kind of diva are you? —Tengen growled— Let someone with experience do it, bright boy!

—You’re going to make me ugly on purpose! With those horrible colors! I have dignity! —the blond snapped, puffing his cheeks— I know how to put on makeup without looking like a snotty ghost. Look at how you left Tanjiro and Inosuke! Tanjiro tried to mediate, as always.

—Surely you can do it well, Zenitsu… but if you draw too much attention, we won’t be able to… —Tanjiro tried to reason with him.

—MAKING ME UGLY DRAWS MORE ATTENTION!! —Zenitsu shouted, on the verge of tears— People will wonder why the three of us look like someone threw makeup on our faces.

Tengen put a hand to his face.

—This isn’t a beauty contest, brat, it’s an infiltration mission!

—Then don’t ruin my face!

Finally, Tengen raised both hands as if surrendering.

—Do whatever you want. Put on your own makeup. But if a single person suspects because of you, I’ll have you selling sweets at the entrance while we work.

Zenitsu huffed, crossed his arms, and began to do his makeup with the skill of someone who clearly had practice… which worried Tengen for reasons he decided not to explore.

Tanjiro sighed. Inosuke was eating everything in his path.

And Tengen… well, Tengen felt exhausted, yes. But between worrying about his wives and the chaos with these kids, there was something else.

Tengen watched them one by one, arms crossed and the serious expression of a theater director seeing his cast for the first time.

Tanjiro and Inosuke… well, he wouldn’t lie to himself. He had purposely done a bad job with their makeup. Inosuke looked like broken porcelain. Tanjiro was… too neat, too obvious. They didn’t want to draw attention for the wrong reasons. A touch of sloppiness here and there was more armor than mistake.

But Zenitsu…

Zenitsu was another problem. Since he had done his own makeup, that was the problem. He wasn’t outrageously beautiful, nor did he have sharp eyes or the brutal magnetism of a courtesan.

But there was something about him.

An honest warmth, perhaps.

And when he walked, even nervous, eyes followed him.

House owners, hostesses, even some assistants… they didn’t see him as just a “girl.” They saw him as an investment.

Tengen stayed close, arms crossed, eyes scrutinizing every gesture.

And then Zenitsu approached him, lips tight and a slight tremor in his hands. But when he spoke, his voice was determined.

—I heard a sound… almost imperceptible —he said seriously— Very faint, almost asleep, like when a demon holds itself back for a long time. It’s coming from that house —he pointed to one half a block away, the Kyogoku House.

Tengen squinted.

—And you think you’ll infiltrate there alone? —he asked, raising an eyebrow. Zenitsu nodded.

—I can say my skills are cooking, cleaning… although I hate it… —he added with a pout— I also know how to play the shamisen. Professionally. Tengen stared at him. The boy, all nerves and complaints, had just put on a serious face in the heart of the Red District.

—Play the shamisen? —Tengen repeated, half amused— What’s next? You’re going to sell yourself alone? Maybe you’ll get a good price.

Zenitsu puffed his cheeks indignantly.

—I’m not saying that! But knowing you, you’d probably sell me as a cleaner!

—You could get a good sum —Tengen joked, elbowing him— Limited edition bright Hashira. We accept payments in silk kimonos.

The tantrum was seconds from exploding. Zenitsu started trembling, his mouth twisted in a grimace of protest.

But before he could blow up…

—Oh, wow… what a special doll we have here —said a soft voice, powdered with years of authority.

The owner of the Kyogoku House was approaching with elegant steps, calculating eyes, and a smile too sweet to be real.

—This boy… how much does he cost? —she asked Tengen bluntly. Tengen tilted his head.

—Excuse me?

—I want to buy his temporary contract. One month. Maybe two if he keeps that little face. You said he plays shamisen? And cooks?

Tengen clenched his jaw.

This wasn’t a real sale, of course. Just a façade. But still, something burned a little inside him. Maybe it was exhaustion. Or the fact he was already worried about his wives enough to also worry about a crying Hashira with more expression than half the district.

—He’s yours —he finally said, without much enthusiasm. He shouldn’t feel guilty, right? Wasn’t he doing what the boy wanted?

—…Prioritize your life…

The words slipped out on their own, when Zenitsu looked at him and gave a small watery smile, because of course, the boy was already about to cry. He turned away. But Tengen heard him murmur.

—Trust me

As he watched him walk away, with his back straight, Tengen ran a hand through his hair. He’s a Hashira.

He forced himself to look at Tanjiro and Inosuke, who were waiting discreetly a few meters away.

—You two, with me. Don’t stray a step.

************************

Nothing. Not a single sign.

Not from his wives.

Not from the demon.

Not from Zenitsu.

Missions were like that, especially the ones involving strong demons, you lose brothers in war… it was normal in this job…

So why was guilt tearing him apart?

"You took the boy’s life, just like your brothers’"

He looked up at the sky, unable to stop himself from clenching his fists.

He told Tanjiro and Inosuke that the mission was cancelled, and that they had to return. He wasn’t going to risk more lives.

But just when he was planning to force his way into the house where Zenitsu had disappeared, one of the attendants handed him a letter folded in two.

With a hand-painted flower in one corner.

He opened it immediately.

Tengen-san:

I'm fine. I've been playing the shamisen every night. They say I have talent, but I don't like being looked at too much. The lady of the house says I’m useful. She made me learn to serve tea. She made me cook. She made me sweep. She made me clean walls. She made me fold kimonos. I think I’m learning domestic hell. But she says if I play shamisen every night, I won’t have to learn servant trades.

Tengen raised an eyebrow. That damn kid… even in a letter, he sounded like he was making a quiet fuss. He kept reading.

I already know who the demon is. It’s not that hard. When I enter a place, everything tightens. Like a string tuned to its limit. It’s a woman who changes her voice. Her footsteps don’t sound like the others’. I hear her smile when no one is laughing. The house adores her. And fears her.

Tengen let out a sigh. Of course he heard it.

I know she has your wives. Or at least one of them. But I haven’t been able to confirm anything. She’s angry with me. She’s watching me. Yesterday she hit me because I defended a girl. She says I make too much noise. That I distract the clients.

There, Tengen stopped breathing for a second.

I have a plan. Tomorrow I’ll let her ‘choose’ me. Let her kidnap me. She won’t hurt me at first. She just wants to make me disappear because I draw attention. If she does it, she’ll take me to the place where she hides everything. And then we can rescue your wives.

Trust me.

Respectfully — Zenitsu

Tengen closed the letter slowly.

The paper trembled a little in his fingers, though he wouldn’t admit it.

Part of him wanted to run and pull him out of there. Grab him by the ears, yell at him that he was a Hashira, not bait. That he was supposed to give orders, not sacrifice himself with handwritten letters.

That crybaby brat.

The one who sobbed when Sanemi scolded him.

The one who cried because his sparrow pulled his hair.

Now he was offering himself as bait with a calm that was terrifying.

—Shit —muttered Tengen, looking at the letter like it had spat on him—. He’s rubbing off on me. He’s making me sentimental.

He folded the paper carefully. Tucked it into the folds of his clothes. He turned to Tanjiro, who was watching him from the corner with an attentive expression.

—News from Zenitsu? —he asked.

—Yes —Tengen replied—. He has a plan.

Tanjiro nodded, serene, as if he had expected that from him.

Tengen sighed. He was no longer sure if the world had gone crazy, or if Zenitsu had simply grown brave.

********************************

The edge of the poison climbed up his arm like liquid fire. Gyutaro moved like a pest given form, resentful, alive. Tengen panted. His vision trembled.

The sickle almost caught his hand when, at the last second, a yellow flash tore through the air like lightning.

He was going to lose the arm. Or his life. Or both. And then… An explosion! A thunder that didn’t come from the sky.

—DON’T TOUCH TENGEN-SAN!

A golden light, a figure silhouetted by it.

Zenitsu.

The screechy kid. The one who always trembled.

Now he had a limp in one leg and his face covered in dirt and blood, but his sword cut like fear had never existed.

They fought. No time to speak. Only to cut. Gyutaro roared. Daki screamed. And the Five blades spun in a desperate dance. Until, for an instant, everything stopped. Two heads rolled to the ground.

Tengen fell.

Everything smelled of iron, dust… and ash.

Tengen could barely breathe. The poison coiled inside him like a snake of fire, pulsing with every heartbeat. The tips of his fingers were already numb. The whole world tilted sideways.

And then he heard footsteps. Uneven, staggering. A dry sob cutting through the night.

—Tengen… Tengen-sama…!

It was hard to turn his neck, but he managed. He saw him approaching: golden boy. Zenitsu.

Dragging his injured leg, robe stained, eyes shining with pain. He dropped clumsily beside him, grabbing his hand, with an expression that hurt more than any poison.

—Don’t die too…! —his voice shook, yet he didn’t lower it—. Not you! Not you too!

Tengen tried to speak, but his throat only let out a dry grunt. Zenitsu looked at him like he was losing something sacred. Like he couldn’t bear to watch someone else leave in front of him.

—I always told you no when you invited me to eat… —he muttered through tears—. That I was busy, that I was sleepy, that my head hurt… I lied. I was scared… Zenitsu’s fingers gripped his tightly.

—I didn’t want to get more attached. I’m not strong, I can’t protect the people I care about. And you’re… brilliant. You’re unbearable, loud, flamboyant…

Tengen felt a pull in his chest. Not from the poison. From guilt.

Guilt at seeing Zenitsu like this, kneeling and broken, begging him to live. He didn’t want to cause him that. Not him. Not the boy who had already lost so much. Who was just starting to believe he could love without being abandoned.

—Zenitsu… —he tried to say, but his voice broke. He swallowed venom and air—. I didn’t

want… you to cry for me.

—Just live! Take me to eat that ridiculous shiny ramen you said was the best! Take me with you, even if you’re loud! Just… don’t go too!

Tengen felt his eyes clouding. His skin growing cold. He couldn’t hold Zenitsu’s gaze anymore.

The poison was winning.

His pulse felt farther and farther away.

Then… something warm burst in the air.

A soft orange light. The smell of blood vanished, replaced by something alive. Nezuko appeared from the shadows. Her flames danced over Tengen’s body, not burning — cleansing. Purifying. It felt like the pain was being ripped out by its roots.

Tengen gasped. The pressure in his chest eased. His hands regained sensation. The poison… was retreating.

Zenitsu froze. Tears still streamed down his face, but his eyes, for the first time in minutes, shone with a spark of hope.

—Nezuko… —he whispered, barely believing it.

Tengen barely managed to turn his head toward her. He couldn’t speak, but he looked at her with gratitude. Then his eyes returned to Zenitsu. The firelight reflected on his face, dusty and tear-stained.

—I guess… we still have that meal pending —he whispered, trying to smile. Zenitsu laughed through his sobs, lowering his head like he couldn’t contain the emotion. And amid ash, night, and embers that didn’t burn, Tengen thought that living — even wounded, even tired — was worth it.

***************************************************

Curiosities:

• Tengen started lowering his voice because of (or thanks to) Zenitsu.

He would never admit it out loud, but after seeing Zenitsu cover his ears and tremble at hearing arguments or shouting...

• He hides behind Tengen when someone yells at him, but throws himself forward if someone hurts Tanjiro. Contradictory and irritably endearing.

• When he cooks, he screams every time the oil splashes. Tengen can’t concentrate with all the “AAAH!”

• He discovered that Zenitsu wears makeup, because the girls at the Butterfly Mansion do his makeup and hair… Tengen also found out that many of the rookie hunters mistake Zenitsu for a girl.

• Tengen always had to drag Zenitsu to train. The boy said he “wasn’t that strong” or “would get hurt.” But one serious fight was enough for him to leave Zenitsu behind in speed. The worst part: after winning, Zenitsu would come up with a thousand excuses not to train again.

• From day one, his uniform seemed flashy… even by Tengen’s standards. When he tried to suggest something more sober, Zenitsu complained for half an hour about how much the clothes tore during training.

• He had to threaten — with total elegance, of course — the uniform officer to get Zenitsu’s pants made a bit longer. Zenitsu never said it, but he hated how short they were. (This was after the Red Light District.)

• Once, while eating under some trees, Zenitsu made flower crowns for his three wives… and for himself. He didn’t wear his, but he didn’t take it off when Zenitsu placed it on him.

• The three wives quickly grew fond of him. Hinatsuru spoke to him with a tenderness she didn’t even show him. Makio yelled at him… but made him sweets. And Suma said Zenitsu was like a “little shining bird.” Tengen suspected they were adopting him.

• When his wives hugged him for too long, Tengen watched them closely. Not out of jealousy. Just… caution. Not that he would mind if they ended up adding a new member to the family.

++++++++++++++++

I think… this is very long, but I wanted it to convey how Tengen gradually grew fond of Zenitsu.

[nicol-chan]

Zenitsu Hashira (Alternate Universe)

Part One

When Tengen Uzui first saw Zenitsu Agatsuma in the Hashira meeting room, he sincerely thought someone had walked into the wrong building.

The boy looked lost. Worse yet: he looked like a lost child.

With that golden hair that seemed dyed with poorly combed sunlight and those big eyes that stared with a mix of terror, Zenitsu didn’t look remotely like someone who should share the same title as him.

Tengen was about to send him back to the lower-rank Demon Slayers —with elegance, of course— until he noticed the golden buttons on the uniform. He froze.

—What the hell…? —he whispered, trying to keep his mind focused. It was true. He had the official uniform.

The symbol. The recognition. That brat, who looked smaller than just one of his arms, had been promoted to Hashira.

The yellow hair made him stand out immediately, the uniform rather extravagant—even for him—but beyond that, Tengen only saw a child who desperately needed a decent adult in his life. He tried to approach him with what he knew best: food and extravagant company.

—Hey, lightning boy, wanna come eat with me? There’s good sake, rice with a touch of wasabi, and some beauties for visual company —he winked as he spoke.

But Zenitsu, nervous, always found some excuse to refuse.

“I’m sorry… I don’t feel well.”

“I’m sorry… I think I already ate. Maybe.”

However, something curious started to happen: every time Sanemi scolded him, Zenitsu would retreat until he placed himself behind Tengen, as if his large figure were a natural shield.

And when Obanai glared at him, jealous that Zenitsu could speak naturally with Mitsuri, Zenitsu would sneak behind him too.

He didn’t say a word. Not a single word.

He would just raise an eyebrow, cross his arms, and let the kid hide there if it made him feel a little safer. Sometimes, he couldn’t help a small amused smile from escaping. He would just mutter something like “sorry” and stay hidden.

In meetings, Zenitsu sat beside him almost as a reflex. Sometimes he behaved like a spoiled brat: complained about the tea, asked if they could leave already, or whispered absurd things during the silences. Tengen didn’t know whether it annoyed him or made him laugh.

******************************

The Kamado siblings had already left, and the air was still thick with the weight of what had been said.

But now that everything was over, when only the Hashira and Oyakata-sama remained, it was as if the facade shattered. Zenitsu stood still. He was breathing fast. His eyes were glassy.

And then Tengen broke the silence.

—What the hell were you thinking, brat? —he said, not raising his voice much, but with the sharp edge of irritation present—. You can’t let your emotions take over in the middle of an important decision.

Sanemi was less patient.

—This isn’t a game! —he snapped, arms crossed and brow furrowed—. You’re not a child! If you can’t keep a cool head, then you’re not ready to be here. This isn’t a game, Agatsuma!!

The boy didn’t respond.

He brought both hands to his chest, as if in prayer.

And his tears began to fall, one by one, as his body trembled.

A bit dramatic, thought Tengen. And it was. But there was something else in that crying… something that wasn’t just childish emotion. It was guilt, it was sorrow, it was something he didn’t know how to carry.

Tengen narrowed his eyes.

—Are you crying because we scolded you? Or because you really believe you did the right thing? —he murmured with a stern tone. But then, the soft voice of Oyakata-sama interrupted.

—He is also a Pillar, Tengen and Sanemi. Even if his tears accompany him… his decision is no less.

Tengen fell silent.

He had forgotten for a moment.Zenitsu was a Hashira.He was one of them.Despite everything.Despite looking like a lost child.

Despite trembling and crying and seeking shelter behind others. He had gotten there with hands stained by decisions none of them wanted to make.

His master had taken his own life upon learning that one of his students had chosen the path of a demon.

He had killed his superior.

Maybe… seeing Kamado fight for his sister, maybe that hope had touched him more than he himself understood.

His anger faded, not because he thought Zenitsu was right, but because he began to see him through different eyes.

He still saw him as a brat, But he also saw someone on the verge of breaking from feeling too much, and still choosing to fight.

But he wasn’t angry anymore. He was worried. And that was worse.

Since that day when Oyakata-sama spoke, Tengen hadn’t raised his voice at Zenitsu again—at least not in shouts.

Not because the boy had stopped being a problem, but because… well, now he was watching him through different eyes.

And something was beginning to show clearly: Zenitsu was getting attached.

To the Kamado siblings, most of all.

Tanjiro smiled at him and spoke with patience.

And Zenitsu… became clingy. Literally. As if someone had flipped a switch and activated his instinct to follow them everywhere. And there was another one.

That boy with the boar head and a voice like crushed rock. Inosuke, or whatever. Tengen barely remembered his name, but he did remember his thunderous presence.

Zenitsu complained about him all the time, and yet, he sought him out. They shouted at each other constantly and seemed to compete over who could be the most unbearable of the duo. It wasn’t subtle.

Zenitsu was looking for a pack. And it seemed he had decided that his pack was the Kamados and that wild child. Tengen watched him from afar, without interfering too much.

Until the reports arrived. An Upper Moon. A bloody battle. And in the report: Zenitsu Agatsuma and Kyojuro Rengoku, injured. Tengen crumpled the paper with contained rage.

—What the hell are you doing fighting an Upper Moon, brat…?

He didn’t take long to head to the Butterfly Mansion. When he entered the room, he found Zenitsu with his face bandaged and his arm in a sling. He was dozing on and off, snoring softly, his cheeks still damp. He looked like what he was: a worn-out kid trying to act tough.

Tengen sat beside him without asking for permission. After a few minutes, Zenitsu opened one eye, recognizing that bright, noisy presence even without seeing him clearly.

—Tengen-sama… —he mumbled, voice thick.

—How did you end up on a mission that clearly wasn’t assigned to you? —Tengen asked, arms crossed. There wasn’t explicit anger in his voice, but that tension before a scolding was present.

Zenitsu lowered his head. He stammered something, but it wasn’t clear. But Tengen heard it. He had excellent hearing. And what Zenitsu said, in a tiny, defeated voice, was:

—I got on the train… because I didn’t want to walk to my mission…

Silence.

Tengen stared at him. His face hardened. His brow furrowed… then, slowly, one eyebrow arched in disbelief. Had he ended up in a deadly fight with an Upper Moon because… of laziness?

A laugh almost escaped him, though mixed with irritation. It was so absurd it hurt. But the kid wasn’t joking. He was sobbing again, hiding his face in the blanket.

—Sanemi-san scolded me… —he murmured between hiccups—. He said I was a lazy idiot… that I only caused trouble…

—And then Rengoku had to defend me! —he cried louder.

—Enough, enough! —Tengen raised a hand, exasperated. Was he really crying because he got scolded for being lazy? Tengen clicked his tongue, then looked at him with a touch of fake annoyance.

—You’re the first Hashira to end up saving another Hashira because of laziness. That’s gotta be a record. Zenitsu looked up, confused.

Tengen smiled, but it was a strange smile for him. It didn’t have that narcissistic shine. It was… warm. A bit resigned.

—Thanks to you being lazy and hopping on that train, Rengoku is still breathing. —He let out a sigh, almost amused— And you’re still alive.

So it wasn’t just luck. It was the right idiocy at the right time. The boy started crying again, now more silently. Tengen stood up, giving him an exaggerated pat on the head.

—But if you sneak into another mission without authorization, I’ll drag you back myself. And it won’t be gently, got it? Zenitsu nodded, still sobbing.

Tengen sighed, walking toward the door. Tengen Uzui wasn’t used to feeling this way. It wasn’t fear. Not exactly. But there was a constant hum in his chest, sharp and persistent, like the string of an instrument about to snap.

[nicol-chan]

TE ATACO DE VUELTA CON FANART >:D

Ataquen de fanart.

[nicol-chan]

Wip de WTST Aoi y Zenitsu. Usé la escena de Kanao y Shinobu como base.

Es una conversación en el fic que está en borrador pq aún no la he terminado.

Me quiero tirar el pelo, el trabajo me consume tanto nisiquera me habia dado cuenta que me dejaste mensaje !!!!!!!!!!

Me gusto como esta quedando Aoi. Espero tener el tiempo para leer tus actualizaciones.

[nicol-chan]

Awwww Inosukeeeee

Les quiero abrazar

no creo que te deje, pero si lo sobornas con comida, puede que te deje estar sentando a su lado.

[nicol-chan]

Zenitsu Hashira (Alternate Universe).

The first time Inosuke sensed Weeping Thunder was during the Final Selection.

He didn't see him face to face, didn't need to hear him speak. He simply sensed him. Like an underground hum, like a silent storm. That presence, head bowed, teeth clenched, fists shaking, didn't roar as it should have. But inside, it seethed with a mixture of savage rage and sticky pain. Inosuke didn't understand the people who swallowed their screams. But that silent trembling stuck to his body like a thorn.

The second time, he recognized it instantly. He recognized the strange presence in a box. Demon. It had to be destroyed. Simple. But then Weeping Thunder intervened. Not to fight with glory or with a lust for battle. It stood between them, trembling, shrieking, but it didn't move.

Inosuke roared for it. If he wasn't going to fight, why get in the way? And yet, the blow he received was sharp, dry, precise. Weeping Thunder knocked him out without hatred. Only because he had to. And that hurt more than losing.

For someone so cowardly to be so strong… it made no sense.

The third time was after the mountain. Inosuke was in the Butterfly Mansion, locked up like a wounded animal. He hated being still. The bandages were too tight. The ceiling felt like a trap. Then it came.

Without warning. Without a roar. Weeping Thunder.

He appeared with a tray. First, he placed one next to Ganpachiro. Then another, identical one, in front of him. Inosuke frowned. "I've already eaten," he grunted, motionless. Zenitsu didn't reply. He simply placed his chopsticks carefully and stepped back a little, turning around as if nothing had happened.

"I didn't ask," he said quietly, almost as if talking to himself. "But it'll get cold, so… if you want it, eat it. If not, I'll give it to the girls."

That affected him. "Don't you dare give my food to anyone! It's mine!" he roared, grabbing the chopsticks as if it were part of a challenge.

Zenitsu simply sighed. "I thought the great beast had better manners than a boar…"

Inosuke gritted his teeth. That guy… that guy made his blood boil! And yet, he ate.

He kept doing it after that. No forcing. No extra words. He just appeared, put down the food, stayed for a while. Sometimes he talked to Tanjiro. Other times, he tuned that softly moaning instrument… which Inosuke called a singing bug.

"WHY are you sometimes a mouse and sometimes a lion?!" he yelled once, after Zenitsu threw him against a tree during training.

"Because I'm not a flat drawing, Inosuke! People feel things! And I'm not a lion, I'm lightning! An elegant lightning bolt!" Zenitsu yelled from the branch.

"Lightning bolts don't scream that loud!"

"Shut up! You fight shirtless! That's much more outrageous!"

It was annoying. But impossible to ignore.

One afternoon, after several days without seeing him, Inosuke sat with his arms crossed on the mansion's porch, frowning. Zenitsu had been on a mission. He hadn't said anything; he'd simply disappeared.

When he returned, he found Inosuke like this.

"What's wrong with you now?" Zenitsu asked, tired, but in his usual tone.

Inosuke grunted. "Play the bug," he muttered, not looking at his face.

Zenitsu blinked. "Huh? You want me to play the shamisen?"

"That one! The shabimen! The one that sounds like beautiful rain. Play it."

Zenitsu collapsed theatrically on the ground. "You want me to play for you? Oh, Inosuke, I didn't know you'd become a secret admirer of my art!"

Inosuke threw a leaf in his face. "Just play, crybaby!"

And Zenitsu, with a small but genuine smile, sat down and carefully tuned the strings.

"Good, good. For the impatient boar… one that sounds like a tropical rainforest."

And he played. Softly. As if no other words were needed.

Inosuke didn't understand why… but he liked it.

*************************************

When Zenitsu protected Tanjiro’s box, Inosuke tried to break it… until Zenitsu knocked him out. Since then, he considers him dangerous—even if he doesn’t look like it.

Inosuke has challenged him many times, but he’s never managed to beat him. “He moves like invisible lightning… so unfair!!”

Once, during the Hashira Training arc, he was really excited to have his turn training with Zenitsu. He had prepared, toughened his skin, and was ready to scream in his face...

But Zenitsu never showed up. He had convinced Lady Amane that he wasn’t fit to train others. Inosuke got so mad he broke three tatami mats. “Then why does he have thunder in his veins if he doesn’t want to roar with us?!”

He’s secretly watched Zenitsu train alone. Zenitsu just repeats the same thing, over and over, without stopping. Inosuke doesn’t get that kind of calm… but he can’t look away either.

Sometimes, Zenitsu would give him his food without saying a word. Inosuke would accept it with excitement, even if he pretended not to care. The truth was… the Crybaby cooked well. Really well.

Even if he doesn’t say it out loud, Inosuke respects him. “He’s got thunder inside… and when he lets it out, it splits the sky.”

Inosuke realizes Zenitsu doesn’t seek a fight with him—but he doesn’t let himself be intimidated either. That makes their relationship a constant tug-of-war full of unspoken respect.

[nicol-chan]

AAAAAAAAAAAAa solo quiero abrazar a Zenitsu maaan

Quiero envolverlo como burrito y esconderlo del mundo un rato. 🥺🥺

[nicol-chan]

Zenitsu Hashira.(Alternate universe)

The first time Tanjiro noticed Zenitsu was after he passed the Hunter exam. He was injured, but even then, he noticed the scent of sadness and rage.

It smelled like pain was devouring him. Like rotting peaches, like something that was once sweet but now corrupted. And the electricity… that electricity was now stronger, more uncontrolled… as if everything inside him was about to explode.

The second time he saw him was when he was heading to the mission at the drum house. He didn’t recognize him right away, since he was yelling at a little sparrow. The small bird was pulling at his hair angrily.

When the boy in the uniform — which seemed odd to him — stared at him, Tanjiro couldn’t help but feel that his whole body became rigid. Tanjiro could smell that the boy was strong, but he also smelled like ripe peaches and something floral.

— I want you to know that I'll give you a chance only because your sound is kind, and there hasn't been a change since I saw you last.

— Do we know each other?—Tanjiro couldn’t help but feel like he did know him, like he had smelled the storm… and peaches. But in another way.

— How rude!— the boy shouted, and his eyes filled with tears. —I can't believe it. First, Chuntaro scolds me for forgetting to bring food, and now you don't recognize me! —He jumped onto his heels and hugged himself. —And this uniform is ridiculous!— He shouted at the sky, then shook his head. —Every mission, they confuse me with a girl.

— Please, calm down, —Tanjiro tried to approach, part of him relieved to know he hadn’t mistaken the gender. The bird started chirping angrily. —Your sparrow is just worried because you haven’t eaten.

After giving him an onigiri to eat, Zenitsu introduced himself. It hadn’t been easy for him to associate that sad scent with the energetic boy standing before him.

But he wasn’t lying.

He smelled like something soft and sweet… like jasmine flowers and ripe peaches. It was a warm scent, like the affection of someone who misses the person who cared for them but keeps moving forward for them. And it also smelled like a storm, as if something strong was hidden, waiting to come out. It was a scent that carried a bit of sadness… but also hope.

The walk had been peculiar. Zenitsu was quite energetic, gesturing with his hands to make his point. He complained that demons would someday kill him.

— I can't even get married… I hate my life…

It had been quick. Tanjiro could only appreciate how the scent of a storm grew strong in Zenitsu, like a signal. Zenitsu turned around and looked at him seriously.

— I’ll go ahead.

All that was left was the dust Zenitsu left behind.

He ran as fast as he could, only to see a couple of children who seemed scared. Trying to calm them as best as he could, he left his sister with them.

After killing the demon and stepping outside, he found an unusual sight. Zenitsu seemed irritated while holding down a… boar… boy? He wouldn’t know how to say it.

— I told you I won’t fight you. I don’t want to. — Zenitsu complained. — I won’t let you damage this box. Tanjiro said it's the most important thing what his life.

"But he hadn't been there when he told the kids."

After a fight, in which Zenitsu eventually knocked the boy out, they buried the bodies and headed to an inn. Tanjiro was exhausted. His ribs didn’t do justice.

—Tanjiro,— Zenitsu, who hadn’t been checked since he was uninjured, spoke from his bed, — why do you bring a demon in that box?"

His body froze for a single second, but then relaxed.

Zenitsu had known. Still, he waited to ask first. He even defended Nezuko, knowing she was a demon.

— She’s Nezuko,— he said, affectionately touching her head. — She’s my sister… she’s the only family I have left.

Zenitsu fell silent, his gaze empty. Tanjiro noticed something had changed. Zenitsu no longer smelled like his usual mix of freshness and calm. Now there was something else: rotting peaches, like something sweet and familiar had been corrupted.

— I’m sorry… Tanjiro,— Zenitsu whispered, his voice trembling.

The third time Tanjiro smelled Zenitsu was during his trial. When he opened his eyes, he saw several figures staring at him, but he could only focus on Zenitsu among them. He no longer smelled like rotting peaches. He smelled of nervousness, but mostly conviction.

He thought that would be the end of his sister and himself. Since all the Hashira who had spoken only wanted his sister dead.

Tanjiro looked up when Oyakata-sama spoke.

—Zenitsu,— Kagaya said calmly. —Before you speak… I want to apologize. I knew sending you to investigate the Kamado case was asking something painful from you. It was cruel of me.

Zenitsu lowered his head. His shoulders trembled slightly.

— You don’t have to apologize, Oyakata-sama,— he replied in a quiet but firm voice. —Even if it was difficult… I trusted your judgment.

Zenitsu slowly raised his gaze. His eyes landed on Tanjiro.

— I killed Kaigaku. He was my superior, someone I respected. When he became a demon, I had to face the truth. And do what I had to."

His hand went up and down the sleeve of his uniform, showing a clean cut on his forearm.

— I hurt myself. I wanted to check it myself… like Sanemi did. I thought if there was anything, any trace of hunger in her, I would smell it, see it, feel it. But Nezuko didn’t react. She looked at me… then looked away.

Zenitsu swallowed. His voice trembled just slightly.

— She doesn’t sound like Kaigaku. She doesn’t vibrate like a demon. There’s only silence… sadness… and affection.

He raised his voice with a little more strength, though his face remained tense.

— I think she deserves a chance. But if she ever changes… if she even slightly resembles Kaigaku…

He lowered his head, clenched his fists.

— I’ll cut her neck myself. Even if my hand trembles. Even if it breaks me inside… I’ll do it.

No one spoke for a moment. But Tanjiro, with his heart racing, knew those words didn’t come from duty… but from someone who had already lost everything, and yet, chose to trust.

***************************************************************

Curiosities:

Tanjiro constantly asks for training advice because he admires Zenitsu's skill with the Thunder Breathing.

Zenitsu hates training and feels he's not good at explaining, but Tanjiro thinks he's excellent at teaching, he just doesn't realize it.

Zenitsu only trains mechanical repetitions, which he believes are not worthy of teaching… although in reality, his discipline is flawless.

They eat together at the Butterfly Mansion when they cross paths, and Tanjiro always offers to help serve.

Zenitsu often helps the girls at the mansion with clothes and cooking, more out of habit than obligation. The girls love him very much and bring him flowers or drawings.

Tanjiro was very excited to train with him during the Hashira training arc… but Zenitsu confessed that he got out of it by begging Mrs. Amane, saying he wasn’t suited for that kind of thing.

Sometimes Tanjiro compliments him very directly ("You're amazing, Zenitsu-san!"), which makes him tremble with embarrassment and hide his face.

Tanjiro admires how Zenitsu managed to keep his heart pure despite everything he's been through. He has openly said this in front of other Hashira, which makes Zenitsu remain silent for a long time.

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My note.

It took me a while. The background wasn't clear. Honestly, it wasn't clear, so I had to blur it.

I'll talk about how Zenitsu and Inosuke get along later.

With a drawing included.

(English isn't my first language, so sorry if it's not spelled correctly)