a/n

Oh yeah baby, sunday. The one day where i actually have time to type at the moment lmao. Anyway, from now on I've decided to try switching povs less often. It feels like I use it as a crutch sometimes

And happy 10k to FtB, i actually thought i'd take another chapter to officially hit, but this turned out to be a longer chap than anticipated

As a note to ffn readers, I often actually upload to ao3 a bit earlier so if you want to see things quicker, that's your best bet

Even as a small child, Zen knew that he was deeply abnormal. Even as he experienced more in service of the Demon Slayer corps and saw the biggest whackjobs in his life, that old perception of himself lingered. After all, it wasn't normal to recall people's words while he was asleep, nor to fight while unconscious.

Those two aspects were odd on their own, but in a twist of fate, they had never crossed until now.

Zen woke up tangled in his sheets and pointing his sword at a nonexistent enemy, faintly trembling. Placing it down, he took a shaky breath and rolled out of bed.

While this place appeared safe, it was like he couldn't escape the bizarre dreams he'd been having lately. Sightless dreams seemed to dominate, but he could always tell what was going on. There was no way to be certain, but-

A shudder ripped through him as Daki's screeches echoed in his head. How close they had all come to dying disturbed him even without viscerally knowing what occurred, but he didn't have that layer of protection anymore.

Honestly, he couldn't explain just how terrifying it was to wake up and suddenly be hurt enough to die. Over and over again, he'd open his eyes and out of nowhere, he was dying from poison or battered enough to fall into a coma. Even when Tanjiro or Inosuke talked about what happened while he was out, it didn't feel real.

It seemed his subconscious had always been smarter and braver than he was. And now, it was warning him about… something.

Regardless of the apparent lack of demons in this world, he had to keep his ears peeled.

"Stop staring at me so much. I already left a note about where I left your breakfast, so you don't have to follow me into the orchard."

His grandfather's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Almost unconsciously, Zen's feet had guided him out to the tree gramps was sitting in.

"Aw, I prefer eating with other people and I wanna be with you, gramps!" Zen whined. The man made a happy "Oh?" noise before his grandson continued with, "You keep letting me sleep in and now nobody eats with me and I'm tired of it!"

The man shook off whatever bubbly feelings he got from the first statement, and shook a gloved fist. "I'm letting you sleep in because you need it! Even I wouldn't make you run drills right now!"

"So you admit you're a slave driver," he muttered with a degree of self-satisfaction.

"I heard that, you cheeky little-"

Zen almost felt the urge to laugh despite himself. It was painfully nostalgic, even if he knew what was coming when he was in better condition.

Being injured was always a weird toss-up for him. Injuries hurt super bad and he had to take nasty medicine and do awful rehab, but demons were insanely scary and would threaten to drink his brain out of his ears. Only being able to choose between the two was dreadful.

Staring up at gramps again, he could only think this all felt like a fading dream come back to life.

"Zen," the man said with mild annoyance, "you do have to eat to recover. Miss Kocho barely let you out even with your inexhaustible begging."

With a dissatisfied huff, he turned to go back into the kitchen. There was nobody at home aside from gramps and he hated it. The near-constant presence of others close by colored his life even as a demon slayer, and that made the long absences of people in the house bother him even more.

Even Kaigaku has to go to school. Who would have thought?

Kaigaku. In all honesty, he had no idea what to do around him. Even now, the thought of his traitorous pseudo-sibling fanned the flames of that fear-erasing rage, but at the same time, this version of him didn't seem half as bad. If demons didn't exist here then gramps would never have a reason to kill himself.

Tanjiro would probably forgive his old senior if he were in Zen's place. Zen didn't think he had what it took to do that, but then again, he never knew he could feel this level of anger. Even whatever he felt towards Tengen's marital situation didn't match it.

Gramps was the main reason he restrained himself a bit around Kaigaku, or more rather, the instant he heard his senior's sound approaching, he'd vacate the area instantly. Dinners were a bit touchier since his grandfather demanded family meals. However, to Zen's uncommon fortune, Kaigaku often returned home late and didn't eat with them most nights.

Sighing, Zen took the last bite of his breakfast and cleaned the dishes. The lack of tasks occupying him left him lost in his head constantly. He wasn't even allowed to wander around town for what gramps claimed were obvious reasons.

It's not like I was planning to anyway, he thought. It didn't mean the restriction didn't annoy him.

Most of his time wound up being spent tailing his grandfather as he worked on the peach trees and napping in their shade. Itsu might have shown him what "video games" were, but Zen couldn't be bothered to learn all the weird conventions that had already been instilled in his twin through practice. There was also a collection of games with lots of pretty girls on the covers that looked interesting, but Itsu was too strangely protective of them to let others near them.

Zen yawned, then almost choked as a peach slice dropped down his throat without warning.

"Ha! Tastes good, doesn't it?" came a voice from above. His grandfather was sitting on the branch above where he'd chosen to nap and was giving one of his stupid grins as if the man didn't just try to kill him.

"Of course it does! Don't drop food in my mouth without telling me or I'll choke and die, damn it!" he screeched.

"I have pretty good aim even now, don't I? But don't worry, it was just a tiny bit of fruit. You won't choke on it."

Zen refused to deign to respond. Pettily rolling onto his side to avoid a repeat incident, he closed his eyes again.

Lately, he'd been feeling the constant urge to sleep. He guessed it was his body attempting to repair itself, which made sense considering that constant total concentration breathing could only do so much on its own, and the speed at which his injuries were knitting themselves together was abnormal. Even the worst of it had been reduced to thin scabs.

Gramps still made him bandage it, though. Said something about how he'd pick at them if they weren't covered.

Despite his reservations about returning to sleep, he felt himself slipping away again to a familiar place.

Once more, this dream was devoid of sight, but even if he could see, the place would be barely lit anyway. He'd absolutely been to this creepy old mansion before.

If he recalled correctly, Tanjiro had wound up calling the place Tsuzumi Mansion. It was a fitting name even if it seemed too cute for a place swarming with demons. If his friend had a less complimentary naming sense, he'd have called it the monster house or something.

Just the sounds of creeping demons in the dark were nerve-wracking enough without a desperate scream of a young boy piercing the air.

"Zenitsu! Please wake up!"

Ah, right. Shoichi.

He was such a good kid. When Zen had passed out, the kid was kind enough not to ditch him, not to mention strong enough to-

A sharp cutting noise hit his ears, followed by the sound of meat slapping the ground, likely the flesh of a tongue.

Eh?

There was no way he couldn't pinpoint his own sword in action nor the sound of his own breathing.

Barely a moment later, electric crackling filled the room and it was all over.

Zen found himself blinking the sleep out of his eyes just like that.

As he lay immobilized, a million thoughts rushed through his head. That terrible tongue-demon was utterly nothing compared to some of the later demons he'd seen. But somehow, he couldn't help but find this the most earth-shaking revelation yet.

Shoichi didn't even have a nichirin. He couldn't have been the one who killed the demon.

It really was that obvious, and yet somehow, Zen never thought about it until now.

So this whole time, I was the one who killed him? he repeated to himself for the nth time.

He might have conjured up something impossible to explain something unbelievable, but the growing lightness in his step wasn't a part of his imagination.

Apparently, his little nap stretched far longer than he realized. A distant shuffling noise was enough to alert him that Itsu was home, and this time, he wasn't alone.

"Hi Zen! I finally got some time to visit!" Tanjiro called from an open window, waving.

First name basis already, of course.

Running out to greet him, Tanjiro instantly began his attack. "Oh, I'm so glad you're alright, You really gave us all a scare that day. How are your injuries doing? How have you been eating? Have you been sleeping well?"

The sudden barrage of concern made Zen halt in his steps. He noted the mildly dazed expression on Itsu's face and gave a sympathetic wince. While the concern was appreciated, he knew how Tanjiro could be when he was worried, and compounding that, nobody here had ever seen a day of combat.

As far as he could tell, anyway.

"I've been getting a lot of sleep at least," he said, " and-"

Zen halted as his stomach growled. Come to think of it, that nap made him skip lunch by accident.

Well, it's not like Tanjiro would take that as an excuse even if I felt like refusing, he thought as he watched Tanjiro dash in and out of the house with a basket of bread. It was covered in that shiny clear material he'd recently learned was plastic. Maybe cellophane? It certainly crinkled the same way.

"My family and I put it together," he explained almost sheepishly. "We run a bakery together, so this is our usual go-to gift. Hopefully you're alright with it."

A bakery? That fitted him quite well, actually. Zen had only known him as demon slayer, but his warm hands and patient attitude could easily mesh with breadmaking.

Itsu groaned. "I said it a dozen times already - I'm sure he'll like the bread even if he's a version of me from ancient history. It looks nice."

"But just looking nice isn't enough. If you're not used to eating some kinds of food, then you just might not like it," he lectured, placing his free arm on his hip.

"Then why did you bring it if you have so many concerns?"

It looked like a tired conversation at this point, so while Itsu and Tanjiro continued to go at each other, Zen picked a plump bun from the collection, flopped down onto the grass, and rotated it in his hands.

It wasn't as if he'd never seen bread before. In fact, he even roughly knew how it was made. He'd never actually tasted it though, since most of the time he never had a reason to seek it out among all the other familiar snacks he favored.

He unceremoniously took a bite, and froze in surprise as half of the stuff inside gushed out.

Tanjiro snapped to attention. "Ah, I'm sorry! I forgot to warn you to be careful with that one! It has a lot of coffee-flavored cream inside so you have to be a bit careful."

Bread filled with sweet cream? He'd never seen that one before, but he could definitely get used to this.

"See? I told you he'd like it," asserted Itsu with more exasperation than smugness.

Tanjiro just stared at them in confusion. "How can you tell? He hasn't said anything."

"He's me," they chanted in unison.

"Nevermind."

Even as they all sat together, a slight awkwardness enveloped the party as Zen continued to eat. Itsu swayed idly, unsure if he could also take a piece. The uncomfortable quietness was mostly Tanjiro's fault, considering the steady stare he was leveling at Zen, but after another minute he'd had enough of it.

"You know," Zen said, "if you have a question, you can just ask."

Tanjiro stiffened at the callout, then dropped his shoulders in admission and gave a smile tinged with embarrassment. "I've gotten to know Itsu a little more and he's been great most of the time," he said obliviously with a thumbs up. Itsu gave him a disgruntled side eye. "But, I can't help but be curious about whatever's going on with you."

Honestly, Zen had anticipated a query like this, but a proper way to answer eluded him. He settled on asking, "Any particular questions?"

"Your…" Tanjiro paused for a second, "twin explained most of it, but I feel like I'm missing a lot."

Zen nodded in acknowledgement. Honestly, he only explained what was utterly necessary at this point, even to his grandfather.

Humming in thought, Tanjiro pointed at Zen. "Like how I don't know what your favorite food is."

"Kabayaki. Pick a better question," they responded together, unimpressed.

"Even I know that," stated Itsu. "You didn't have to ask Zenitsu for that."

Tanjiro's shoulders sagged at the blunt response. "I guess so. Then, if you know us, "I'd like to know how my family is doing in your world. I'd love to hear what they do there, especially since I doubt they're bakers."

Oh god. Of course a family man like him would ask that.

"Charcoal selling, I think?" he replied, dodging the first question and hoping to any deity that existed that Tanjiro wouldn't pry. "You and Nezuko had already started traveling around Japan when we met, so you all haven't seen each other in years."

Seemingly accepting the veracity of the answer, Tanjiro crossed his arms in confusion and replied, "That's unusual. Why would we leave home and our family like that?"

He instantly began silently screaming at himself; he should've just said they didn't know each other if he was going to lie anyway. "Um, business purposes. Also, it's hard to send letters home to each other if you're always moving around, so that's why you all haven't talked in a long time."

Tanjiro stared at him with an indecipherable expression and just nodded his head. Simultaneously, Itsu was sending a suspicious squint in Zen's direction.

He felt bad for lying his ass off, but what choice did he have? While Zen might have been responsible for turning Tanjiro's sound sour in the past, this was a whole different game. He didn't think he could take being an indirect source of grief for any Tanjiro.

It's not as if our world affects this one. Telling him won't do anything helpful.

Said boy's expression was falling regardless. "Did we have a bad relationship in your world?" he questioned with a frown.

"Of course not, we're great friends," he immediately assured.

"Oh, thank god. I was worried that the version of me that you have was a meaner person," admitted Tanjiro. Suddenly, a flash of interest crossed his face. "Wait, Zen."

"What?"

"How do I compare to your world's Tanjiro? Personality-wise, I mean."

Zen rubbed at his chin in thought.

Even at first blush, it was easy to see the dissimilarities. This Tanjiro was a far leaner kind of muscular than what he was used to, and his hands lacked the notable callouses gained over years of intense training. Even the unique scarring on his forehead looked more ordinary, unlike that dark red and almost flame-like one possessed by his Tanjiro.

In other words, he looked more like a normal person whose life wasn't disrupted by a horrible, life-changing event.

And yet.

Those earrings dangling from his ears, the warm eyes, the deep color of his hair, and above all -

Zen's first actual meeting with him was a debacle for obvious reasons. But, even covered up under his momentary disgust, that nigh endless kindness in his sound was undisguisable.

Different circumstances, same person.

"Almost identical," he replied with a certainty he hadn't felt in ages.

Tanjiro's eyes lit up. "Ah, you finally smiled!" he exclaimed, pointing at Zen's face.

Zen touched his face reflexively, but the ghost of his smile was intangible. Tanjiro's happy expression remained regardless. "I'm glad to see it! You struck me as a bit of a morose person, but I was sure I'd see you smile at some point."

How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? In his unease, he shifted around in place and accidentally elbowed his nichirin's handle, causing the rest of his sword to jerk into view.

A certain level of tension arose as the other two's attention was drawn to the weapon.

Zen sighed. "I guess I can't really avoid this."

"Actually, I was trying to ignore it for the sake of my sanity," admitted Itsu. "I don't want to think about why someone like me would have something that deadly when just thinking about scary things turns my legs to jelly."

"You can have weapons for defense, you know," Zen muttered. Did his situation count as that? He was the one seeking out demons and killing them, so on sheer technicality, maybe not.

Tanjiro suddenly perked up. "Oh! Was the reason you were traveling around with me and Nezuko to protect us? I'm sure traveling wasn't as safe as it is now."

His nonjudgemental expression was easily explained by that train of thought. Someone should thank the guy for always assuming the best possible scenario, and Zen nodded along. "That's right, you had some stuff you didn't want stolen so out of the goodness of my heart, I decided to come along too."

"Wow, for years too. You really are nicer than I thought, Zen," Tanjiro said.

"Yep. I definitely am," he replied, face twisting into as close of a smile as possible. Tanjiro appeared to be appeased, but unfortunately, there was one among their number who wasn't done prying.

For most of the conversation, Itsu had been quietly observing the exchange bouncing back and forth with a suspicious amount of attention.

"You know, I've been wondering," Itsu piped up at last, "Zenitsu, you haven't killed any people, right?"

Zen twitched. "That's a bit extreme. Why would you ask that?"

"Why wouldn't I? Tanjiro mentioned he smelled blood on your blade. I know it was probably self-defense, but I can't help being curious."

"I…"

If someone were to have asked this a week ago, the answer would have been an easy "no."

Demons weren't human. They used to be, but obviously, that had changed. Those were simple facts, but with the death of a being he used to know as human on his hands, the waters had become agitatingly muddy.

He logically knew why people have trouble killing their family-turned-demons. But, until now he'd never viscerally understood it. Even if he despised Kaigaku, even if he wasn't truly family, Zen had become familiar enough with him that it was difficult to see him wholly as a demon.

"...I haven't killed anyone," Zen finally said. "Not a single human."

Distressingly, that barely seemed to halt the rising tension. Right as he saw Itsu opening his mouth to say something, the presence of another fully registered in his mind and he turned around.

A round but soft object was sailing directly toward Itsu's head. The sound of its tiny hairs tickling the air told him all he needed to know about it.

Zen's eyes sharpened, and his hand snapped out to block the mushy peach. The fruit rolled from his palm and dropped onto the ground, where its skin finally broke and the insides splattered out.

"You seem marginally more talented than Itsu, sadly."

He knew it. It was him. Zen took a deep breath to control himself while Itsu had been frozen in his spot, still processing what had just happened. Tanjiro was outwardly far more offended though.

"Hey! You could've hit Itsu with that, you know!"

"Sorry, my bad," Kaigaku answered with a snort. "I forgot he finally had company."

Tanjiro narrowed his eyes and made a motion to get up, but Itsu placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. Despite the evident confusion and anger on Tanjiro's face, he obliged and stopped.

"Anyway, grandfather told me to call you all in for dinner, including our current guest," he said, turning to head back inside.

Dinner? Zen looked up. Surprisingly, between the naps and the conversation, the sky was already beginning to darken.

Despite the shared apprehension, the three followed suit after Kaigaku disappeared from sight.

⁂

Yet another lazy day, Jigoro thought as he tossed another peach into the basket. His boys could enjoy this luxury while it lasted, and it'll be back to business very soon.

As he transported his haul to a tiny truck, he made a smug grin as the rest of his harvest came into view. His heirloom peaches were pleasantly productive this year without sacrificing quality, so he could afford to pat himself on the back. However, a flash of yellow in the corner of his made his mood drop.

He had noticed Zen behavior worsen over the past few days. Even as the boy slept, he could always somehow tell when the man had moved a significant distance away and adjusted his napping spot accordingly to stay close.

The kid kept trailing after him like an overgrown duckling. While that admittedly did have its own charm, that level of attachment was a problem, and he'd have to nip it in the bud very soon.

Depositing his cluster of peaches, he walked over to his current problem child and crouched down to the boy's level.

Zen was taking another nap. At this point, Jigoro was becoming concerned at the amount of time he spent asleep, reaching over half of day alongside his time sleeping at night.

The boy's expression suddenly turned disturbed. Likely another bad dream, he'd reckon.

He flicked Zen's forehead. No response. Seemed like the kid was well and truly down for the count at the moment, and he could finally head out for his off-property errands.

Pulling out a list of locations, he drove out to deliver fruit to the local restaurants that patronized his business. Due to the limited quantity and comparatively low price of his produce, he always received higher demand than he could reasonably fulfill.

"I never got why you don't just sell your peaches to people at a fancy market or something," huffed Aoi. "You'd get more money if you didn't sell in bulk, and everyone would know you as the guy with amazing peaches."

"I've had enough fame for a lifetime. Plus, I hate dealing with more customers than I have to," Jigoro replied easily, already used to conversations with the serious girl.

Aoi helped offload a crate, and replied, "Ha, I'm sure. Then you'd sell everything to the few highest bidders and ignore a bunch of smaller places like this. I appreciate it, but you're rather weird."

"Do kids nowadays always bite at the hand that feeds them?" he mock-complained.

"Your own kids certainly do," she said mercilessly. Jigoro sighed.

"You know to hit where it hurts."

Sometimes, the man honestly couldn't tell if she meant the things as a jab or intended for it to be an informative telling-off. Children were always so troublesome, even if they weren't his.

He took out his list and crossed Azora Diner off. "Seems like this was the last place. Guess I can finally visit the tailor."

"Tailor?" Aoi turned to him in surprise. "You don't seem like the type to want a service like that."

Jigoro scratched the back of his head. "Well, you see-"

She tilted her head attentively as he explained, and at the end, she simply said, "Wow, you're kind of sappy sometimes. I didn't know you had it in you."

Girl had the gall to look genuinely surprised. Before he had the opportunity to respond, though, her mother called for her help and Aoi dashed back inside, leaving him standing by himself.

Well, it was getting a bit late anyway, he thought as he began the drive. It wasn't too far, and shortly, he found himself at the desk of a local tailor. Damn tables were always too tall, but he refused to take a stepping stool with him. The indignity would kill him.

"I'm Kuwajima Jigoro, you have my order done, correct?" he called.

A bespeckled man leaned into his sight. "Ah, Kuwajima? Yes, it is, just give me a second."

Jigoro watched as the tailor reached into an open closet and took out the clothes.

"You know, you had quite the order. I'm not sure if this matches the samples completely."

"It doesn't have to be perfect," he responded, watching the tailor fold and package it. "I'd say this is as close as we can get, and for this kind of thing, it's usually the thought that counts."

The tailor shrugged, seemingly unsatisfied, but handed it to him anyway.

Jigoro left to the tailor's obligatory "thank you for your patronage," and promptly ordered some takeout at a nearby restaurant. He didn't feel like cooking today.

"I'm home," the man said as he entered his house, and spotted his older grandson resting on the sofa. "Kaigaku, call Zen and Itsu in for dinner, I have some takeout for tonight."

Barely looking up from his phone, he said, "They invited another kid today. I'm not sure we'll have enough to go around."

The man brightened up. "A friend? Itsu brought a friend home? Of course he can stay for dinner," he said, breaking out a frying pan and taking some frozen gyoza out of the fridge. He'd be damned if he couldn't feed one of the first friends of his grandson to visit in ages.

He made quick work of the remaining bag of dumplings and slid them onto a plate alongside the plastic containers.

"Just called them. They should be in soon," Kaigaku stated, taking off his shoes and walking into the kitchen.

"Thanks," the man replied.

Soon, the table filled with occupants and everyone began eating. The visitor had apparently been Tanjiro, that boy who he'd met through that one frantic day. Honestly, he didn't expect the kid to visit so early, if at all, so this was a welcome surprise.

Less welcome, however, was the peculiarly oppressive atmosphere that hung over everyone as they ate. While Jigoro expected the unease between Kaigaku and Zen, the cloud seemed to have spread to everyone at the table. Even the well-mannered Tanjiro seemed slightly leery.

"Done, thanks for the food," Zen said, mouth still muffled by a half-eaten bun as he stood up and speedwalked up the stairs. The click of the door told Jigoro that he'd closed himself into his bedroom.

Everyone else eventually got up too, and Tanjiro had made a beeline for the door when he finished eating. Something about having things to do at home, apparently.

Odd. Did something happen while I was out?

Jigoro shook his head. Whatever happened, it wasn't as if he could stop it from occurring anymore. Roll with the consequences, he thought as he followed his grandson upstairs and knocked on his door.

"Come in," he said. Even the door couldn't muffle the exhaustion in his voice. The man walked in to see him half-sprawled over the bed.

"Do you need something?" Zen asked.

"We have to discuss some future plans," Jigoro stated plainly. "I'm going to have to send you to school."

"School?"

Zen sat up, seemingly baffled by the thought.

"Every child here has to go through the education system, and since it seems like you'll be staying here long term, you have to go."

Petulantly, he said, "I don't want to be stuck in some random building for eight hours a day. I can read, write, and do some math already, so I should be alright."

"That's the bare minimum here," he explained. "It's not enough in today's society."

"If that's the case, you can just hire a home tutor, right? You have the money," he countered.

Jigoro gave him a light whack on the head. Zen let out a quiet "ow."

"Money isn't the issue. If I were to be honest, giving you an education is only half of the reason," he admitted. "You need to go out, Zen."

"I'm not going," he responded immediately.

"Zen, if you just stay here, you'll rot away." Jigoro expected to escalate the stakes, but not this quickly. "You will go, one way or another."

"I'm not leaving you."

There it was, the root of the problem. "Zen, don't worry," he assured, "it's not like I'm planning on throwing you away-"

"I'm not leaving you."

Jigoro paused at the new emphasis, but something inside Zen had already snapped. "You were the only one who never abandoned me, but you still did anyway! You left even when you still had me! Just because Kaigaku became-" he hesitated, "-like that, you didn't have to die!"

The fight seemed to drain out of him as suddenly as it came, tears beginning to bubble up. "I hate him and I-I hate you! I hate myself for letting it all happen! You didn't have to die like that…"

Strained voices and uncontrollable hiccuping sobs. This should have been a familiar scene, but nothing about Zen could ever be normal.

Jigoro felt a headache developing. He must have gone wrong somewhere for even a Zenitsu to sob so much within these few days, and while he knew the boy was lashing out due to grief, the accusations still stung.

I'm dead over there, and Zen keeps accusing the poor man of abandoning him. I almost feel bad for my other self.

Wait.

Slowly, the pieces began coming together almost against his own will. In horror, a realization finally sunk in.

"Zen!" he said firmly, grabbing the boy. Shocked by the sudden movement, the latter snapped his attention onto the man. "Zen, I don't know what happened in your world for your grandfather to do that, but I never will. I promise."

The declaration seemed to have stemmed his crying enough for him to talk coherently. "You… do?"

Jigoro nodded. "Of course."

"What if your entire orchard burns down? What if I die? What if Kaigaku goes crazy and there's no way to get him back and he starts killing tons of people?"

What the hell kind of questions are those? "I still won't. I give my word."

"You swear?" he pressed.

"On my life."

At last, that got a watery laugh out of him. That was a relief. This talk had gotten far heavier than he'd ever expected, and he was glad to have waded through the worst of it.

There was one last thing to take care of, however.

"Oh," he exclaimed in faux surprise. "I got you a gift. You want to see it, right?"

Zen seemed to look more unsure than genuinely curious, but Jigoro would take what he could get. He took the tailor's package out and peeled it open to the sight of a lively yellow cloth dotted with triangles.

"My own track jersey happens to look very similar, and I figured your other grandfather must have gifted that haori to you," he explained to an immobilized Zen. "Now, I made you a promise, so you've got to make one for me. Please go to school or the authorities will be out for my ass," he joked.

Still slightly dazed, the boy turned to stare at him.

"Are you there?" the man questioned, waving his hand in front of his grandson's face. The second he put his hand down, Zen lept on him in a tackle-hug and began crying all over Jigoro's shirt again.

a/n:

A mental breakdown a day keeps the doctor away. Guess that's the price zen pays for wiggling out of shinobu's grasp early. That should be the end of zen's big breakdowns for this fic, though, at least for now.

I really seem to like giving Jigoro the pov. enjoy