a/n:
I can make a spontaneous fic posting even if I'm busy. As a treat. I'll read over it more for errors when I have time
Might come back later and make some changes if I feel like it, and I'll probably adjust character tags as the story goes along. Not 100% sure how things'll go yet but I do have a rough roadmap
Also, for some reason I can't find Jigoro in the character listing anywhere. Am I blind or is he just not in there?
For once in his short life, Zenitsu wondered if it'd be alright if he died here.
The representation of his most impressive and sole accomplishment was falling alongside him. Kaigaku was certain to die with him, so he allowed the buzz of success to tingle through him even as the cracks on his body threatened to tear him apart.
Everything felt so unreal and dreamlike, and his eyelids had long since sealed from exhaustion.
Slowly, the image of a glowing moon and spiders rose from the recesses of his memory, and his grandfather's faraway but firm command echoed.
Zenitsu took a deep breath.
He did not hear the faintly surprised noise from Yushiro in the distance, nor the sensation of small hands clasping themselves over his closed eyes as clouds swallowed his body.
⁂
One of Nezuko's less-mentioned talents, Tanjiro thinks, is her strangely keen intuition. Whether it's knowing when a teacher is about to assign a pop quiz or being able to tell which route is safest, he's learned to trust her insights. So, when she wandered into the kitchen and told him something was going to happen, all he could do was assure her he'd be extra alert today.
Perhaps that was unnecessary. After all, it's hard to miss an entire human dropping into the seat next to you.
"Hey! Please wake up! Are you okay?"
Tanjiro grabbed the blond's shoulder, and progressively began shaking him harder as the lack of response continued.
As distracted as he was, he barely registered the beeping of pressed buttons until his sister's shaky voice drifted over. Tanjiro felt the urge to smack his head; the first thing he should have done was call an ambulance.
"Hello? We have an emergency over here. We found someone covered in these…" Nezuko wavered for a second, "...strange wounds. But it's bleeding all over and looks very bad."
He couldn't fault her for the lackluster description. Now that he paused for a moment, he could say he'd never seen anything like these lightning pattern wounds, nor the oddly clothed boy who carried them.
Stranger?
As Tanjiro watched the ambulance stop in front of his home, he could feel that somehow, that description didn't sit right.
An uncharacteristic moment of compulsion gripped him and he hopped into the ambulance with the odd stranger. "Nezuko! I'll come back later, don't worry about me! I'll call you later!"
If concern wasn't coursing through his veins, then his unneeded presence on board would've needled him to no end. The paramedics didn't seem to mind as long as he stayed out of the way. One even comforted him under the assumption the two boys were close, and all Tanjiro could do was make an awkward noise in response.
A clatter shook him out of his thoughts. A sheathed sword seemed to have fallen out of the stranger's belt. Almost reflexively, he caught it.
It's heavier than I thought. This must be a well-made toy.
Tanjiro could only guess he was dedicated to historical reenactment or something, considering his old-fashioned clothing with the authentically modeled sword. Looking for something to occupy himself, he partially pulled it out to satisfy his curiosity.
The LED light of the ambulance glinted across a wickedly sharp blade. But more than anything, the smell of ash and blood pervaded his thoughts.
With a flat, wan grin, he instantly clamped the sword into its sheath.
It's real! And used! He screeched internally. Who is this guy?
He stiffened suddenly. Squinting, he turned to study what was visible of the stranger's face.
…It was Agatsuma! How on earth did he miss that?
Tanjiro would love to consider himself a friend to all of his new classmates. That being said, the scent of fear and cowardice he'd associated with the boy was completely absent now, and that made the already unfamiliar boy even less recognizable.
The hospital was blessedly close by now. He'd really hate to lose a classmate when he had so much to learn about him.
⁂
"-eyes are opening! He's waking up!"
Zenitsu squeezed out a low groan as he came to. Despite the still-raw pain, that voice quickly set him at ease.
"It's me, Tanjiro! I'm so sorry for not instantly recognizing you!"
A smile crossed his face even as it tugged at his bandages. If he could say something like that, then he must be under a thousand layers of bandages to be that unrecognizable. "...'s fine. We're in a hospital, right? Your nose is probably filled with antiseptic."
The other boy blinked in mild surprise, then seemed to grip his hand into a fist in an odd show of determination. Zenitsu stared at him in confusion.
Actually, the entire situation felt strange. Where was this, anyway? This wasn't the Butterfly Mansion, and the fabric covering his body felt almost unnatural. He'd never seen Tanjiro wearing such western-style clothes before either.
"I-" he began, suddenly unsure. After a moment, he defaulted to asking, "Where's Inosuke? I didn't see it, but I'm sure he got dragged into that demon building too."
The bewildered look from Tanjiro sent Zenitsu into a ramble. "Huh? Was he not? Damn, that's lucky, but I'm sure he would hate that considering how he's like."
"Um, do you want me to call that person too? I already got in contact with your family, but I can call him too."
Family? That makes no sense, I have none.
He let out a happy gasp. The only option would be Nezuko if she decided she wanted to marry him!
"It's good to have more people who care about you when you're in bad shape, your grandfather seemed so shocked!" he carried on relentlessly, blissfully unaware that he had just shattered someone's world. "No doubt he'll be there soon!"
A strangled noise crawled out of Zenitsu's throat. There was no way that Tanjiro, of all people, would pull such a horrible, nasty joke. Which meant-
Someone must be lying to him.
"...Hey, Tanjiro."
He snapped to attention. "Yes? Do you need something?"
"Where's my nichirin?"
The puzzled look on Tanjiro's face didn't bode well. "Nichirin? What's that?"
Zenitsu would never consider himself smart, but as the lull in the conversation stretched on, he could feel thoughts whirl through his brain.
There's no way he wouldn't know that. The only way that would happen is some kind of memory loss induced by head trauma - highly improbable - or more likely, a blood demon art that affects memories.
But something was still off with that hypothesis. Everything was off. The sounds, the situation, the conversation, everything. There had to be more.
His panicking mind was interrupted by the gentle press of something long and stiff into his hands. Head snapping back up, he looked into the painfully worried gaze of his best friend. Memory issues notwithstanding, Tanjiro was still Tanjiro.
"By nichirin, you're talking about this sword, right?"
He nodded as he gripped the smooth sheath, much-needed relief flooding his veins.
Zenitsu's visibly soothed nerves seemed to make Tanjiro smile. "I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I think I can trust you with this."
Of course. It's not like he'd start slashing up random people. However, the turn in focus reminded him to stay focused on the issue at hand. "The person who claims to be my grandfather, when will he arrive?"
"Ah! I finally managed to get in contact with him about 20 minutes ago. I'm embarrassed to say it took so long," he said sheepishly, though Zenitsu's strange way of addressing his supposed grandfather seemed to have thrown him off. "He said he'd get here as quickly as possible, and definitely within half an hour."
So essentially no time for preparation, apparently. All he could do was hold himself together until the time came.
Air whistled between his teeth as he breathed, steadying himself.
Total concentration breathing was supposed to help humans mimic the abilities of a demon. While a person could never regrow limbs, slowing the spread of blood demon art-caused damage wasn't out of the question. Even so, the crackling sensation of the rips scattered across his body, and especially near his eyes, felt terribly disturbing. It was almost as if the wounds were actively struggling to enlarge themselves.
He could do this. How many times had Tanjiro fought on while heavily injured yet still came out victorious?
He beat Kaigaku! Even if he was an inexperienced demon, it was genuine proof of some skill. He could do this! He could!
As a familiar silhouette was revealed from behind the door, a spasm shook his grip. The nichirin lay useless across his lap.
No demon's illusion could replicate a person's sound so accurately in a million years, Zenitsu was certain.
As consciousness fled his grasp once again, one last thought graced his fading mind.
No, I can't.