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finalexit · 4 years ago

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The Most Familiar Sound (A TanZen Fanfic)

As Tanjirou attempts to manage his trauma, Zenitsu finds the strength to comfort him in all the ways he wishes someone would do for him. When he least expects it, Tanjirou decides to return the favor, and together, they unravel Zenitsu's unsavory view of himself.

"There was no one in the world who would waste their time comforting someone as low as him."

Can also be read over at ao3!

There was nothing particularly special about that day, so Tanjirou’s abrupt silence seemed very out-of-place. While Tanjirou wasn’t speaking, though, Zenitsu could still hear him. His heart rate was faster than normal, even when taking into account their time actively fighting demons. The only times that his heart rate was that quick and that loud were when Nezuko was in immediate danger. So... that was worrying.

And it’s not just that his pulse was loud -- it was unbearable. The inescapable sound seemed to echo within the confines of Zenitsu’s head, trapping him in the assaultive wave of Tanjirou’s adrenaline. He felt his stomach turn, and he listened (with dread) as his own pulse began to join in with Tanjirou’s, discordant, asynchronous, too much.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. Normally, he wouldn’t be able to catch this crescendo of thrums until it was too late, until his head was aching and even the throbs would join in on the cacophony, leaving Zenitsu trembling, tearful, and often times incapacitated. He slowly let his breath pass back out, again through his teeth. Though he was somewhat (read as: very) used to passing out, he didn’t want to keep being a burden on the people around him. Again and again, he’d lose consciousness, and again and again, his teammates would have to pick up the pieces for him. Without him. But not anymore.

At least, he hoped not. As his heart rate slowed to something more gentle, more manageable, he noted that this situation wasn’t exactly dire. Tanjirou and Zenitsu were sitting side by side on the tatami in Hisa’s house after acquiring a new set of injuries that would need weeks to heal. So, if Zenitsu were to pass out, it’s not as if it would really matter. He took comfort in that thought, and his pulse finally reached normalcy. Things were fine. He was fine.

He turned his attention to Tanjirou, whose heart was still hammering in his chest. What’s his deal? Needless to say, it was unusual for anyone to be as overwhelmingly anxious as Zenitsu, and it was even more unusual that Zenitsu was the (relatively) relaxed one in literally any situation (because how relaxed can you really be when you’re never afforded a moment of silence?). He smiled at the role reversal, and, overcome with a misplaced sense of pride, clapped Tanjirou on the back, exclaiming, “What’s up, Ta • n • ji • ro • u?”

Because of this sudden positive spike in mood, he wrapped his arm around Tanjirou, expecting some reciprocation of affection. Or, much more realistically, some blanching in response to his touch. What he did not -- could not -- expect was Tanjirou’s shuddering breath as he turned toward Zenitsu and sobbed into his sleeve.

He tensed at this before gently, and awkwardly, patting Tanjirou lightly on the back. What the hell am I supposed to do??? What is this situation?? Zenitsu was usually (always) the most socially conscious person of the threesome, though that wasn’t saying much when his competition was (innocent, naïve, adorably oblivious) Tanjirou and (fucking insane) Inosuke. He was reasonably able to read the room, but that did not prepare him for this. He had never needed to console anyone before, and it’s not like he had any experience receiving that care, so he had no example for how to properly handle this. But… it was Tanjirou, and if anyone was deserving of some comforting, it was him. Of course, it was him.

“Hey… um. Are you okay?” Good. Simple. Easy. He could handle this.

He jumped as Tanjirou sobbed in response. Ok. Not good. Not simple. Not easy. He could not handle this. No, he had to. Tanjirou deserved someone who could handle this, and there was no one else here to be that for him.

“Talk to me.” He fully turned to Tanjirou, wrapping his other arm around him firmly. Gently. He hoped.

Tanjirou took another shuddering breath, attempting to gather himself, before giving up and burying his face in Zenitsu’s shoulder. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

Zenitsu snorted. “Seriously? This is ‘fine?’” He knew that laughing probably was not the right move here, but it was hard to resist. It would be like Zenitsu claiming that he was calm while perpetually being on the brink of an anxiety attack. Who would ever believe that?

Tanjirou sighed and pulled away, arms still clinging to Zenitsu, now able to look him in the eye. Zenitsu wished he hadn’t. He watched the tears fall away only to be replaced by an identical stream of more tears. He watched Tanjirou’s lip twitch, his face crumble, his hiccupping attempts at breathing normally. His stomach churned and nausea perched at the back of his throat. Since when was watching someone cry this painful? He sensed that his own eyes were threatening to gloss over, and he inhaled sharply. Hedid not want his own dam to burst. Not now. Not when Tanjirou needed him to be the rock for once.

He straightened his posture and blinked the tears away. Tanjirou, seeming not to have noticed this moment of weakness, glanced downward (thank god) and decided to chance another attempt at speaking.

“I really am okay. Nothing’s… nothing’s wrong. I just got a small cut and... blood -- human blood -- hurts.” He must’ve noticed Zenitsu’s eyebrow raise because he quickly continued on. “It’s, like. It just-- When I smell it, I panic. Sometimes it’s not that bad. Most of the time, I use Total Concentration Breathing and that centers me. But sometimes it doesn’t, and I’m back on the mountain running to my house, seeing the blood, seeing my family--”

His voice cracked, and he couldn’t suppress the onslaught of ensuing sobs. It was bordering on hysterical, which would’ve been more concerning had Tanjirou not reigned it back in as quickly as it had begun. “Seeing my family…”

“I know,” Zenitsu said, when Tanjirou gave no sign of continuing. He pulled him closer, as awkward as that felt, and rubbed his back. This was what he would want to be done for him. This was what he wanted to be done for him. He craved the proximity and warmth of another person, but he wished for it to be accompanied with gentleness instead of the aggression he’d usually receive close contact with. He resisted the impulse to whimper, as Tanjirou’s tears were still tugging at him, painfully close to ripping his heart right out of him. Instead, he rested one hand on Tanjirou’s head and laced his fingers slowly through his hair.

Zenitsu tried to think of other things he’d want done for him, other things he could do for Tanjirou in turn. What did he usually imagine? His grandpa hugging him closely? Check. Running his hands through his hair? Check. Telling him that things would be okay, that he would be okay, that he was okay the way he was (because “perfect” would be a huge stretch), that-

“Thank you,” Tanjirou said, barely above a whisper. Zenitsu could hear the grief clinging onto his words, dragging them down, filling them with a tearfulness that he was all too familiar with. Zenitsu nodded in response, though he wasn’t sure if Tanjirou could even tell.

“Of course… anytime. You’re always there for me, anyway.” He smiled, a private smile meant for no one’s eyes, as he recalled all of the times Tanjirou afforded him a small pat on the back whenever he was panicking. It didn’t always happen -- there wasn’t always time anyway -- so the times that it did occur, Zenitsu tried to soak it up. In those moments, he wanted to lean into Tanjirou, cling to his checkered sleeves, and let the tears fall as he would rest his head in the crook of his neck. Obviously, he could never do that, and he was beyond embarrassed each time the thought, that imagery, flickered behind his eyes. As nice as it was. As much calm as it brought him. As much as something inside of him needed desperately for it to happen.

Tanjirou broke away once again, this time with a relaxed smile on his face. Well that was quick. “Yeah. Yeah! You already know I’d do the same for you.”

He did not anticipate the violent clench of his stomach. He turned away, aware of how conspicuous this sudden change must’ve been. But he had to look away because he did not know how to stop himself from freezing over, how to stop the frost that originated in his ribcage from spreading elsewhere. Spreading everywhere. He was turning to ice inside and out, the muscles of his back (and legs and arms and chest and-) abnormally tensed, and he knew Tanjirou had probably already noticed… But he also did not know how to change that. The most he could manage by way of calming himself was a shallow breath, in and out, before his face was in his hands and tears were spilling over them.

Because he knew Tanjirou wouldn’t do the same for him. No one would. He could laugh at the absurdity of the notion, but the assertion was way too cruel. There was no one in the world who would waste their time comforting someone as low as him.

He tried, once more, to pull himself together but was startled by a nearby sound. What is that? Eyes still closed and still buried in his hands, he tried to locate the sound. It was close. It was loud. Oh, it’s a voice. With a jolt, he realized that it was his voice, and that he was sobbing. Not just sobbing but wailing. He listened as the cries clumsily raised in pitch over and over, cracking at each peak before dropping drastically again. It was chilling that something so ugly could be coming out of him. Horror crept over him as he noted the growing distance between himself and his crying. He was right there. But he was far away. He was sitting next to Tanjirou. But it wasn’t him sitting there, it was just someone who looked like him. What is going on?

Something about this was ironic, probably. This was the first time he’d ever gotten any respite from the din of sound that typically plagued him. He could hear his voice, yes, and he could hear Tanjirou saying something, but it was as if he was hearing everything from behind a thick wall of glass. And wasn’t that a sort of peace? Something he had always wanted, whether he admitted it to himself or not? He waited for relief to crash over him, to feel renewed by this newfound quiet, but part of him knew that he was awaiting something that would never come. Instead, the sense of eeriness that was already present seeped into him, dribbling into the crevices that existed between the plates of ice within him. Maybe this would be nice if it wasn’t so alien.

Then, all at once, it stopped. With Tanjirou’s warmth encasing him, he was forcibly dragged back into his own body, the ice falling away and crashing down at his feet almost instantly. He sat still for a moment while he tried to recover from the suddenness of the moment. It was hard to parse where he had just gone and how long it had been. It felt like he had been alone, locked away in some other dimension, for hours. But he got the sense that it had only been a few seconds or a few minutes at most. He kept his gaze lowered and locked on his hands in an effort to steady himself as he tried to gather the rest of the present situation. Like… why he was so wet (wow, he was drenched in sweat) or why he was shaking so severely (when was the last time he had trembled this much?) or why he-

“Hey, talk to me” He startled at Tanjirou’s voice. Right, Tanjirou was there. And Tanjirou was… at his side with his arms wrapped around his shoulders and his large sleeves blanketing him in an embrace. Huh? He blinked as he tried to process this. Huh? Another second passed, and he still didn’t quite underst-

“HUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH???????????”

Tanjirou jumped at the exclamation, eyes searching wildly for some reason Zenitsu would be screaming (not that he ever needed much of a reason). “What?? What’s wrong?? What happen-”

“YOU’RE HUGGING ME!”

Tanjirou hurriedly released his grip on Zenitsu. “Sorry!! You were just hugging me??? So I-”

“DON’T LET GO, IDIOT! HUG ME AGAIN!!!”

It was clear that Tanjirou probably would’ve preferred to back away slowly at this point, but he resumed his embrace, this time with some trepidation.

“HARDER!!!” With that, he tightened his hold. There was a moment of uncomfortable stillness wherein both held their position without even so much as a twitch. And then Zenitsu shifted in his arms, seemingly uncertain, before slowly returning the hug. He crept closer to gingerly rest his head on Tanjirou’s shoulder. Tanjirou had already pulled away once, and the idea that he would do something to make Tanjirou retract his warmth again was buzzing between his ears as he worked to restrain himself.

What he wanted to do was fling his arms around Tanjirou and just fall apart within the security of his presence because he knew he was always safe there. But that… who would want that from him? Who would even be able to tolerate that from him? He wanted this with too much fervor, and he had no choice but to reel it in because he was Zenitsu and if someone was willing to be there for him, he could not ruin it by being too much. By being himself. That was too much to ask anyone to sit through.

Once his head landed on Tanjirou’s shoulder, though, his resolve broke. Well... he was never under the illusion that he was strong, anyway. He let his body sink into Tanjirou, dig into him, and he briefly wondered how it would feel to melt into Tanjirou. To be part of him. To not be himself for even just a couple of minutes. Then he wouldn’t have to face the wall of sound that seemed to press into his ears, surrounding him on all sides. He imagined somehow extricating himself from this wall (if only it truly was tangible, perhaps he could’ve sliced his way out) and hearing nothing. Or whatever someone with a normal capacity for hearing would hear. Maybe his own breathing, the light breeze licking at their faces from the open door, the creak of the house settling every now and then…

As much as he wanted to immerse himself in this daydream, he felt that something vital was missing from it. He pondered over this, searching for what could possibly be lacking. What more would he need when all he ever wanted was to know what “silence” really meant? As he inhaled, breathing in the scent of Tanjirou’s freshly washed hair (in a totally normal way that wasn’t weird), he realized all at once what it was.

Tanjirou’s sound.

Right. Of course. It was hard to imagine living without Tanjirou’s sound now. He listened closer to the the gentle flow of Tanjirou’s blood in his veins, the rhythmic thump thump thump of his heart, the musicality of his thoughts (how was it possible for Tanjrou’s thoughts to harmonize so pleasantly when his own were so discordant?). Even when Tanjirou had been panicking, the melody of his nerves was almost beautiful in retrospect. It seemed laughable that he had been so overwhelmed by Tanjirou’s sonorous heartbeats earlier when he was now aching for it. He wanted to be consumed by it. Forget his previous fantasy -- his new ideal world was one inwhich Tanjirou’s sound was the only thing he could hear. That would be enough.

“You know how blood ‘hurts’ you? That’s how it is for me with hearing. But, like, with almost everything. It’s not any individual sound usually -- it’s just… There are so many sounds. It hurts.” He felt pathetic admitting this. He knew, he had always known, that he should only feel grateful for his heightened sense. What demon slayer wouldn’t want something that could afford them more awareness? Every possible advantage mattered when your enemies were often much stronger, faster, and more durable than you could ever hope to be. But he was a human before he was a demon slayer, if he could even call himself that, and he didn’t know any human strong enough to handle this without going insane. If there was ever a time before his hearing grew so sharp, too sharp, he didn’t remember it. But, whatever he was like then, his hearing had reduced him to the bundle of nerves that he was now.

“I should be able to handle it, but I can’t. Big surprise.” He chuckled bitterly at this before continuing, “It’s like… I know that no one else would be able to deal with this either, right? I mean, you’re not supposed to be able to hear every strand of hair raise on someone’s arm when they get chills, right? Or hear each individual muscle in someone’s body contract, right? But still, I-”

Tanjirou pulled away in surprise, perhaps to get a better look at Zenitsu’s face, but Zenitsu tugged him forward again. He knew that he must’ve been balling Tanjirou’s clothes in his fists by this point, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was unraveling in front of Tanjirou’s eyes, and he just didn’t care anymore. He didn’t need to be liked, he just needed to be held.

“Wait, you really hear all that?” Tanjirou had already given up on trying to look at Zenitsu face to face and had settled on patting his head lightly. “You really hear that much? All the time?” That sounded… devastating. Sure, Tanjirou had his sense of smell, but he didn’t necessarily mind its strength. When he was confronted with the familiar copper of blood or when an unpleasant odor clung to the air and every inhale through his nose polluted his mouth and lungs, it… sucked to say the least. But he could run away, theoretically. He could run away and smell something else, something pleasing or at the very least neutral. But could Zenitsu do the same?

“Is that why you’re always so....” Tanjirou paused, wondering how to put this delicately. He had never viewed Zenitsu as cowardly or weak, but it was beyond apparent that Zenitsu did, and he didn’t want to reinforce that. But it was true that Zenitsu was constantly anxious. “...on edge?” He felt the boy nod. “That sounds hard.” He winced at his own understatement but was met with a whimper from Zenitsu.

“It is,” he said, his voice fragile and so so quiet. When Zenitsu cried or worried aloud, it was usually ear-piercing at best, so this was new. Different. And, though it was considerably much easier on the ears, it was hard not to be concerned by the disparity. He wished, ardently, that he could jump into Zenitsu’s mind and see through his eyes. Listen through his ears. Tanjirou had always considered himself empathetic, and others’ emotions would typically be laid out in front of him as plainly as if their feelings had been written on their foreheads. But, if Zenitsu was struggling so much this whole time, and he had no idea, then he could only imagine what emotion could render Zenitsu so frighteningly quiet.

His chest tightened at the thought. He knew grief. He knew pain. He knew fear. While he was occasionally afforded brief reprieves from these things, they normally weighed heavily on him from the moment he woke up to the moment he drifted off to sleep. And sometimes even during sleep, when he’d watch grossly distorted versions of the one event he could never shake away. He wasn’t there when his family was slaughtered, and yet what occurred in his childhood home while he was away was all he could think of. It hurt that he couldn’t have been there with them. It was somewhat of a moot point considering he couldn’t reverse time and, even if he could, he most likely would’ve died among the rest of his family anyway. Except Nezuko. She would’ve been left alone, then, and that was the only thought that could convince him that dying that day wouldn’t have been preferable.

He shook the thought away. This was too dark. The point was… he knew grief and he knew pain and he knew fear. And yet, the thought of Zenitsu carrying similar baggage scared him. He could’ve been carrying something heavier. He could’ve been carrying it for longer. He could’ve even been carrying it alone, with no one there to share the load. He had Nezuko, and he had the comfort of knowing they could always, and would always, grieve together. Who did Zenitsu have?

“I’m so sorry. I wish I could take that away from you.” His lips pressed together, holding back everything he could say but shouldn’t. Like, if he could somehow switch senses with Zenitsu, smell for hearing, he would. Like, if he could go back in time, maybe instead of using that power to die alongside his family, he would instead use it to meet Zenitsu earlier and carry this burden with him. Like, if he could sit here cradling Zenitsu forever, he really would. And it felt so wrong that he could do none of these things. What use was any of his training if he couldn’t do something as simple and as necessary as that?

The two proceeded to say nothing in the coming minutes as Tanjirou found himself lost in thought, the only notable noise being the rustling of their clothes as they adjusted positions to hold each other closer. Zenitsu broke the silence by asking, “Do you know what you sound like?”

Tanjirou’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What he sounds like? “What do I sound like?” He didn’t quite understand what Zenitsu meant by this, but inquired all the same, figuring that Zenitsu’s answer would contextualize the question.

He didn’t expect the affection in Zenitsu’s voice as he said, “You sound like… a sunny day. Blue skies, fluffy white clouds, you know…” Tanjirou’s hearing was no match for Zenitsu’s, but he didn’t need heightened senses to hear the smile in Zenitsu’s voice. He suddenly was very grateful that they couldn’t see each other, as he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and creeping along the rims of his ears. Though, he had to wonder if Zenitsu could hear even that?

He opened and shut his mouth a few times as he fished for an adequate reply, but Zenitsu saved him the trouble by continuing on. “That’s why… even though it hurts to hear so much all the time, I guess I’m actually kind of thankful for it too. Like, I knew I could trust you because all I had to do was listen, y’know?” Tanjirou smiled at the admission. He did know. It was the same for him. One sniff was enough to confirm that Zenitsu was kind and strong and intuitive and- But he had already told Zenitsu this months prior, and all he had received in response was, “No, I’m not strong. Don’t give me that,” so he wondered whether it was worth mentioning again or not. He decided that if it could soothe his friend at all, it would be worth it, and he relayed the message again.

He felt Zenitsu’s back stiffen at his words, which hadn’t been entirely unexpected. He recalled the prior experience, wherein Zenitsu’s demeanor had taken a dramatic shift. He hadn’t understood why then, and he couldn’t say he really understood why now either.

“Please. Not right now.” Zenitsu’s posture seemed to slowly relax again, slumping forward into Tanjirou. “Don’t lie. Just-”

Tanjirou ripped Zenitsu away from him, and he realized that it was probably a bit too forceful when he saw Zenitsu wince at the contact. But his heart was speeding up and he felt like he had to do something because how could Zenitsu really think this is a lie? He had always suspected that Zenitsu’s self-esteem was low, but it seemed bizarre that he could genuinely have absolutely no faith in himself. “I would never lie, Zenitsu! Not about this or about anything else! Isn’t that obvious?” He noted that maybe he was being too loud.

He stared intently at Zenitsu as he awaited an answer, though it was clear Zenitsu didn’t have one prepared. His lip quivered, and Tanjirou felt his stomach sink as Zenitsu’s face fell. He marveled at how far down a stomach could fall. There it was, by his feet, There it was, disappearing into the earth below. There it was, steadily making its way to the earth’s core -- all occurring as Zenitsu spoke his next words.

“Stop, seriously… I know already. I know what kind of person I am.” Again, that bitter laugh along with an irritatingly dismissive tone. Something about this was just so wrong. Why was Zenitsu putting on a front all of a sudden? And why did it hurt so much more that Tanjirou could see through it clear as day. There was nothing Zenitsu could do to mask the fragility of his voice except hope that it wouldn’t break, and something about that made Tanjirou’s throat tighten.

“I don’t know why you’re friends with me, or if you even consider me a friend, but I already know what I’m like. And I’m not… any of the things you say that I am. Maybe you’re just being nice? You’re the kindest person I know, so I guess it does kinda make sense that you would say all that. But I don’t get why you’re going out of your way to comfort me. That’s too nice. You don’t have to push yourself.” The dismissal was gone from his tone, replaced with… was it sadness? Shame? Tanjirou sensed some longing too, though that seemed out of place amongst the array of emotional wounds, all of which were raw and greatly needing someone to tend to them.

“It just… Please don’t anymore. All it does is hurt because I know it’s not real.” Zenitsu had scooted backwards, away from him, by this point, so he looked down at his now empty hands. Guilt over the rashness of his initial reaction weighed on him, gluing his legs to the floor beneath him. It had startled him, at first, to be confronted with the possibility that his friend thought so low of him that he’d mistrust his words. But he realized, then, that it wasn’t him Zenitsu thought poorly of. It was Zenitsu himself.

He watched tear drops land on the back of hands, but he didn’t attempt to stop them. How could he have been so blind -- so stupid -- to not see it until now? Zenitsu didn’t just have poor self-esteem. He didn’t just underestimate his abilities. He hated himself. He couldn’t imagine a world wherein someone would truly value him. Every time he rushed to Tanjirou’s side for protection, it was because he could not fathom even the slightest possibility that he might be competent despite how many demons he had proven himself capable of defeating.

Something about this hurt worse than Zenitsu freezing up or crying in his arms. If Zenitsu really believed these things about himself, and likely believed it for much longer than Tanjirou had known him, was there anything he could do? What, really, could be said to change Zenitsu’s mind when he was clearly so resolute and so resigned to this image of himself. There was so much powerlessness there, and it was choking Tanjirou into silence. He thought that he had left this feeling behind, that as long as he worked hard, there wasn’t any situation he couldn’t surmount. It was something he held onto during the most challenging battles, yet it was quietly dissipating between his fingers now. How could life-threatening situations feel so easy when compared to what should’ve been a simple talk with a friend? How?

He had to remind himself that it wasn’t a matter of whether he could or couldn’t -- he had to reach Zenitsu. His friend was shouldering such a dark inner world, and there was no way he was going to leave him in there alone. He grabbed both of Zenitsu’s hands in his, and searched his eyes. Zenitsu’s gaze wouldn’t meet his, though, so he urged, “Look at me,” to which Zenitsu acquiesced. It made something in his chest squeeze to see the fear and the overwhelming shame behind his friend’s eyes. What did the world do to him? And what could he do to make up for it?

“Zenitsu, even if you don’t believe that you’re a admirable person, please at least believe that I would never lie to you. I can’t make you see yourself differently - I know that. I know that’s too much to ask of you right now. I just need you to trust in my honesty. And if you can’t then…” He paused for a moment, racking his brain, before delightedly exclaiming, “Wait! Sometimes, if I hone in on someone’s scent, I can tell if they’re being truthful or not. Can you do that with your hearing?” Zenitsu nodded hesitantly. “Then, listen to me, and you can judge for yourself whether or not I’m lying, okay?” Zenitsu nodded once again, and Tanjirou breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that he wasn’t lying, and soon Zenitsu would know too.

“I’ll start by saying that we are friends. I considered you a friend ever since you protected Nezuko’s box… And I really do believe that you’re strong -- I’ve seen enough to prove that to be true. And… funny! And smart! And really really brave!” He had worked himself into a frenzy, his speech coming much faster and louder, and he was making no effort to stop himself from beaming. Zenitsu’s face, on the other hand, was almost comically downtrodden, practically screaming “Stop messing with me,” though he had enough restraint to let Tanjirou continue without interruption.

“I really mean it! I mean, when you think about it, bravery isn’t about not being afraid. It’s about being afraid and doing what you need to do anyway. You’ve been terrified for so long, right? And yet you’ve trained, and you’ve become a demon slayer, and you’ve done so many missions already. Isn’t that impressive in its own way? When fear is constantly telling you to run and hide instead?” Tanjirou watched Zenitsu react to this and, while he still clearly wasn’t convinced, he did seem to be taking Tanjirou’s words into more careful consideration.

“Okay. But I still don’t get why you’re going so far for me. Why did you hug me… why did you let me hug you?” He could tell Zenitsu was asking this in earnest, and Tanjirou wanted to respond in kind, but he was just so confused. What did he even mean? Why did he hug him? What else would he have had him do? Tanjirou supposed that he could’ve fed him some onigiri like the first -- second -- time they met. Should he have done that? But didn’t Zenitsu tell him to keep hugging him? So then… Huh?

“You wanted a hug, and I wanted to hug you? And before that, when I was upset, I wanted a hug, and I’m guessing you wanted to hug me? Isn’t that normal?” Was he missing something?

“You wanted to hug me?”

“Yes.”

“You swear?”

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t out of obligation?”

“It was not.”

“Pity?”

“No.”

Zenitsu looked about as mind-boggled as Tanjirou felt by this point. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

Zenitsu opened his mouth to answer but hesitated. Tanjirou watched the progression of emotions on his face -- the sadness, the disgust (why disgust?), the attempt to recollect himself, the inevitable return to sadness. Now that he knew there was more to Zenitsu than he had previously known, he was tuned in. It was perplexing to him that his sharp nose and intuition could’ve somehow missed all of this to begin with. But, he considered the very real possibility that it was only so apparent now because Zenitsu was no longer hiding it. Whatever the reason, he was glad to understand more about his friend. Even if that meant feeling his insides contort in commiseration each time he had to confront the fact that Zenitsu was just a tumultuous ball of self-hatred.

“It is hard to believe, yeah. I don’t really know how to explain it. But I know you’re telling the truth -- I don’t have to listen for it. I trust that you’re being honest. I guess it’s just weird, you know? It feels weird to be held like that after not being held for 16 years.”

Tanjirou blinked. Wait. But “Aren’t you 16?”

“Yeah.”

“And you haven’t been held like that in 16 years?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m the first one?”

“From what I can remember at least.”

“HUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH???????????????” Tossing all etiquette aside, he grasped his friend and roughly pulled him into an embrace, all but dragging the boy into his lap. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?? We have to make up for all the lost time!!”

Zenitsu snorted at that. “Do you know how much we’d have to hug to do that?”

“I’ll do it.” He nodded to himself. “No matter how much!”

He sensed his friend tensing up against him once again, huffing a laugh into his neck. With some uncertainty, he asked, “But seriously… Would you- Can I ask you for a hug sometimes? Not a lot! Just sometimes. Occasionally. Every once in a-”

“Of course, Zenitsu. Ask me for a hug anytime. You don’t have to hold back.” He thought better of this before adding, “Well, if we’re fighting a demon, maybe don’t. But, any other time.”

“Then can we just stay like this for a while longer?”

Tanjirou felt a smile emerge. “Yeah. No problem.”

“And umm... can I cry?”

It was Tanjirou’s turn to snort. “Since when do you ask for permission?” He felt Zenitsu giggling at this, at the irony of such a question. He couldn’t stop himself from joining in, at first doing his best to contain it to a chuckle, but almost immediately failing. He threw his head back and laughed openly, Zenitsu’s snickering only egging it on. They sat there, holding each other, shaking against one another with unrestrained mirth, for way too long. Every time it would die down, one of them would inevitably succumb to another fit of giggles, and the other would laugh along.

Once the laughter died down for good, Zenitsu sighed and drooped onto Tanjirou, finally seeming to relax. The hilarity of the moment prior stood in stark contrast to the howling that began then. Much like earlier, Zenitsu’s cries were loud and so pained. He closed his eyes as he listened to his friend and felt the sound reverberate through his body until it felt as if he might be the one hollering instead. He wanted to cry as that familiar desire to take Zenitsu’s pain away returned. When he paused, though, he recalled Zenitsu’s words. That Tanjirou sounded like a sunny day. That he was glad he had his heightened sense of hearing for that reason. The heartfelt sentiment that he didn’t want this to be taken away from him.

Maybe he didn’t need to take anything away from Zenitsu. Maybe it was enough to be sitting in each other’s arms. Maybe it was enough that Zenitsu finally believed there was someone on this earth he would hold him like this. Maybe it was enough that they could carry their burdens together.

He let a tear drop onto Zenitsu’s shoulder as a smile spread across his face. Yeah. There was no maybe. This was enough.

#tanjirou kamado #tanjiro kamado #zenitsu agatsuma #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #tanjirou x zenitsu #tanzen #zentan

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