Chapter Text
In all there was to process, Zenitsu envied those who could do it in their sleep. In such a short time the whole world had changed so much; it was a world without Kibutsuji Muzan, but more keenly, a Butterfly Mansion without Shinobu. It was a Corp without four of the Hashira he had recently suffered training under, and even more of the Corp members he suffered with. It was a world without Jiichan and Kaigaku.
What the world spared him was Nezuko. Rather, it granted her to him in her fullest self, with gazes and words sweeter than Zenitsu had ever experienced in his wildest dreams of carrying her flying through a peach garden, but in the lonely days following the battle she spent all her time beside the comatose jerks who didn’t even bother being awake in her company. Though if anyone deserved Nezuko at his side more than Zenitsu, it was Tanjiro, he couldn’t fault him for that. Tomioka? Easy to hate him for it, even if Tomioka bordered on death itself.
It was these passing jealousies that kept Zenitsu’s mind occupied when thinking about anything else was too much. Lying there the only one awake in the middle of the night was bad enough, he couldn’t fall asleep with the pains down his back and legs, and he could hear Aoi and a bunch of the tireless Kakushi still awake and running from one emergency to the next. Two days later and they were still losing people; there was still so much sorrow to hear rattling throughout the walls. It was odd how he could feel so alone in a building, or even a room full of so many people. Inosuke was only conscious for an hour out of the day at most, and never said more than a few words that made sense. Couldn’t someone at least had brought his sparrow to him for company? Chuntaro couldn’t fly like that, he was injured in all the chaos.
If Nezuko wouldn’t be there to rub his aching legs for him, he thought as sleep finally dragged at his eyes, at least Chuntaro could be annoying and stubborn, cheeping something away at him like he always did when Zenitsu was at his lowest. But fighting demons, that all was over now. Everyone was going to be sad and hurt a while. But after that… after that…
Zenitsu heard a rip before he felt the breakage in his skin. A burn? A cut? He had a wound there where he felt it at the left side of his chest, and when he thought to shoot his right hand to it, his forearm cracked open like a sleeve caught on a nail. His arm hadn’t moved—was he paralyzed? Sleep paralysis? A trick of his nightmares, right?
Nightmares had never been this cold; someone must had left a window cracked in that frigid January air. The slightest shiver sent a tear ripping up his jawline, as though aiming to pierce his eardrums with the disturbing sound of shredding skin.
Those were his wounds from Thunder Breath! Or Demon Blood Art? Whichever he could call what that demon did to him, they were cracking apart all over him. They were reopening, and he couldn’t move, what was scarier was how he was frozen and weighted to the spot and couldn’t cry for help. If it was sleep paralysis, he’d pass out soon, right? Pass out, he willed himself, pass out! But his voice made no sound, only the sound of another tear cutting down his shoulder.
It felt like he was under something heavy, squashing him flat until his whole body sprang leaks like a fruit under someone’s foot. A foot made of ice! What the hell was with that cold? There wasn’t any sound of wind in the room!
‘---Garbage---’
If he could move, Zenitsu’s whole body would have seized. Where had that voice come from? He couldn’t identify the direction. He had to find the source and put a stop to it, for good. Where had that voice come from?
‘---Disappear---’
A wound behind his hairline tore open, and a tickle of blood slid by the corner of his vision. By now, Zenitsu didn’t care about the wounds. They were small and slight, the burn was nothing, not compared to the fire roasting through his chest and beating away at the cold pressure. He claimed some movement back, enough to grit his teeth, take a Breath, and glare around every spot on the ceiling, until the drop of blood by his eyes brought his attention to something he’d have otherwise missed.
It was a faint, but a face loomed there, somewhere between Zenitsu’s bed and the ceiling. It was hard to tell where it looked, but it was square-on. The arms were either spread out or falling forward, Zenitsu couldn’t tell, but the one detail that was clear was a shiny magatama jewel tied around the neck, tight as though it held the specter’s body and head together.
‘---Feel my power burn into your flesh!!---’
Zenitsu claimed enough facial movement to curl his nose up into a loathsome sneer.
Kaigaku.
Bright and early the following morning, Kiyo was the first to come in to check on him and the other sleeping patients while making her rounds, and she was so startled by the scattered blood stains that she dropped his tray of breakfast. The lump of Inosuke in the next bed over twitched, and a couple other boys sat up and groggily looked around. “Zenitsu-san!” she cried. “Are you—are you alright?”
He could never upset a girl, so he replied with the happiest voice he could muster, now that the paralyzing feeling was gone and it was only his leg injuries keeping him stuck. “Good morning, Kiyo-chan! Sorry, things got messy.”
“Zenitsu-san, you’re not alright! Wha—what should I do?”
“It’s alright, it’s alright! It’s not your fault, Kiyo-chan! I’m fine! These aren’t bad, just annoying. Can you find that one demon, Yushiro-san? He had a medicine for these.”
“I can… try, but the sunlight in this room…”
“Oh, right. Just the medicine! Just tell him I need the medicine he gave me in the Infinity Fortress, the dose he gave me before wasn’t enough. Tell him he was stingy!”
Kiyo didn’t seem confident with only that amount of detail, but she promised she would relay the message. A couple hours later she returned with a needle and syringe, apologetically explaining that Yushiro didn’t seem to agree with Zenitsu’s assessment but in the end relented if that would make Zenitsu shut up (she did not include that part). Nervously, she administered the shot in Zenitsu’s arm, and used that chance to observe one of the wounds. “I can patch them up for you if that would help?”
“E-h-h-h-h-? Would you?” he beamed. “Thank you so much! To say nothing of my legs, I can hardly even twist side to side right now my back hurts so much! And nobody cares!”
Kiyo’s eyes welled up with tears. “You’re all hurt so bad. Even Inosuke-san’s in too much pain to move…!”
“Eh? Ah? Hey—uh—I’m sorry—see? See, I’m okay, really! Don’t cry! This is nothing, if you get me the bandages I can do it myself! See? I’m strong, this is nothing!”
“Are you sure?” she sniffled.
“I’m sure!” he replied.
After all, it is nothing, he thought. If Kaigaku thinks he’s got any right to linger around like this, he’s got another thing coming. He’s nothing but dirt. Lower than that. I’m not going to let him have his way.
Although his body still felt cold and heavy, the wounds were under control. With so many other things going on, Zenitsu made up his mind not to think about it. Kaigaku wasn’t worth it. After all, he soon got a visit from Nezuko, and she even brought Chuntaro along to say hello! The bird was looking a lot better, and Zenitsu was glad about that from the bottom of his heart. Nezuko, though! She was nothing short of a goddess with the sun shining on that kind and gentle smile! “My beautiful wife!” he exclaimed in the middle of her telling him about the sparrow’s condition.
Nezuko’s cheeks flushed as rosy and pink as her eyes used to be. “Ze—Zenitsu-san, you’re saying that again?”
“Ahh, Nezuko-chan is so cute! She’s so cute when she’s being shy!”
“Zenitsu-san, you’re saying everything aloud. You’re still on very strong medicine, aren’t you?”
“Ufufufufufufu, I love my wife. Ufu, ehehehehee.”
“Zenitsu-san,” she frowned, “Please stop saying that. I’m not your wife.”
His giggles came to a halt. There was an unpleasant sound coming from Nezuko. She really didn’t like it. “Sorry,” he frowned to the bird in his lap, who looked up with single ‘chun’ as if to chide him. “I just… I’ve been really excited for you to be human.”
“I haven’t been human in years. In a way, everything is still all new to me.”
Even me, thought Zenitsu. That makes sense. I’m just a creep she’s never met before, she won’t even look me in the eyes. Even though I’ve cared about her all this time? I’ve loved her longer than any other girl I’ve ever set my heart on. After everything Tanjiro always told me about her, I thought this time would be different. “Sorry,” he replied. “I won’t say it until you say I can.”
“I should go check on my brother.”
“Wait—um—does that mean Chuntaro can stay here?”
“Chun!”
“That’s right, I forgot! Aoi-chan wants to keep him with the other birds to keep everyone organized. Sorry, I’ll take him back.”
“Chun.”
“Have a good rest, Zenitsu-san! Feel better!”
With that, the door closed. The other Corp members on other beds in the room, swordsmen whom Zenitsu had never talked much to, were involved in their own conversations or reading or receiving check-ups, or making incomprehensible sleep-babble (there was one doing this, it was Inosuke). No one looked his way when Zenitsu felt another burn at his chest, but Yushiro’s medicine seemed to be working, for the skin did not break.
Another week went by without incident, though the cold was most bothersome at night. Zenitsu had the distinct impression Kaigaku was staring at him, but he chose to ignore him. That was Kaigaku’s stupid choice if he wanted to spend his whole afterlife watching somebody drool and snore. Much to the displeasure of his remaining roommates, Zenitsu embellished his sleep habits a bit.
His back was getting better, but his legs still hurt like hell. And, one evening, he felt—he heard—a rip along his back. “For crying out loud!” he sat straight up and reached for it, and then he winced as his cheek and neck both snapped open with narrow tears. He had clenched his eyes shut at his outburst, and upon reopening them he caught a glimpse of what he was sure was Kaigaku’s grin.
“Sheesh, Agatsuma! What is your problem!” the only other wakeful boy in the room sprang out of his bed.
“Go call Yushiro-san.”
“Yushiro? You mean the demon guy? Hey—hey, your wounds opened back up, you’re bleeding!”
Zenitsu had a hand against the injury as his neck, which looked more disturbing than necessary. “Tell him to bring more of that medicine, and not to skimp on it this time.”
This time, without the sun as an excuse, Yushiro came in person. He was not pleased, but Zenitsu had the impression that he never was. He was initially dismissive of Zenitsu’s claims that the medicine was wearing off, but after a brief examination, his attitude changed. He got quieter, calm as though stunned.
“See?” Zenitsu finally said. “I told you so. It’s Blood Demon Art.”
“It shouldn’t be. There’s no blood left after a demon’s dead.”
“Then how did you explain this? You’re the one who said it kept spreading after he was gone!”
“Ah. Then you were awake, I knew it. I figured you had to be if you were so scared of your eyeballs getting ripped apart.”
“Anyone would be scared to their core at the sound of that!! These wounds were healing, there’s no way they’d just spring open like this if it weren’t for Blood Demon Art. He’s still at it. I can feel him, he’s still around.”
Yushiro’s lip curled in disgusted dismissal. “Are you trying to tell me, a demon, how Blood Art works? Shut up.”
“No, I mean it. I mean that he’s haunting me.”
“Is it Demon Blood Art or Ghost Art? Make up your mind.”
“You’re the doctor!”
“No, I’m not!!” Yushiro bore his fangs at him.
Yushiro’s sound had a sharp ring of loss, which twisted in Zenitsu’s gut at the same time a few small tears opened throughout his wounds. “He’s dead though, isn’t he?”
“Thoroughly.”
“Then why does this still work?”
“Beats me. Isn’t it that it’s melded into you by now?”
“Melded? That sounds gross, don’t put it that way.”
“Makes enough sense to me. It was Demon Blood Art that was based on Breath Technique in the first place. You both had an aptitude for a technique like this, so it looks like it became attached to your blood. Like you’re just a host for it to hold onto some form in the world that won’t burn up in the sun.”
Zenitsu frowned. He hoped he was imagining it, but he got the impression that some perverse glee was pouring into that broken box of happiness Kaigaku carried, bound to leak itself empty the moment anything gave him passing satisfaction. That box shouldn’t even exist in the world anymore. “Then I’m a host he can attach to?”
“Ghost possession? Sure, why not. Does that mean I’m going to have to come give you these injections every week for the rest of your life? Ugh, what a pain.”
“Don’t you look so upset about it, I’m the one who needs it. And I don’t want you coming and visiting and giving me that look for the rest of my life either!”
“Then give yourself the injections.”
“No!! I can’t do that!! I hate needles! I’ll shake the whole time and hurt myself! Make it into a salve! An ointment! Something soft I can use with ease!”
“You are insufferable!!” he griped back as he stabbed Zenitsu with a needle, making him scream so loud that Inosuke jolted upward into one of his few wakeful and confused moments of the day. He mumbled something about not letting anyone bully his underlings and hopped and wobbled onto Zenitsu’s bed, but Yushiro knocked him back to his own bed with one swift punch.
In the weeks that followed, most of the other patients throughout the hospital were discharged, leaving Aoi and the little girls more time to focus on Zenitsu’s physical therapy and get him walking again. Once Inosuke reached a threshold in his recovery there was no keeping him in bed any longer, and he was the one who came bounding in one afternoon to jump on Zenitsu’s bed (his busted legs) to announce that Tanjiro was awake. Yushiro gave Zenitsu regular check-ups to develop a dosing regimen, and so although the weight and the cold and the sense that someone unwelcome was there persisted, the flare-ups stayed under control.
Nezuko made regular visits too, carrying Chuntaro in more and more chipper spirits—both of them seemed that way, for as the weather warmed, the conditions of everyone in the hospital improved, and the distance in time from that night of battle stretched on, further and further away. There was distance from that day, too, and neither Nezuko nor Zenitsu brought up the word ‘wife.’
“So his arm really isn’t coming back, huh? Is it dead or what?”
“It’s all wrinkled up like a pickle, but Kanao-chan said it’s still alive. We still have to wait and see about his eye. Oniichan’s still loopy so they can’t do any vision tests. Kanao-chan said she’s recovered some sight, though.”
“That’s good! Didn’t she have really keen eyesight in the first place?”
“Her sight was the best!” roared Inosuke, bounding over. Zenitsu let out the start of a yipe that his legs were about to get crushed again, but he hadn’t gotten much sound out before Nezuko guided Inosuke toward a safe spot on the bed as though catching a speeding ball and serving it with grace. Inosuke lost no momentum, throwing his hands up to his face to ring his fingers around his eyes. “She made them go all red like this and could see her way through attacks!”
“Red like Oniichan’s eyes?”
“Red like Red Blades! All hot and red! I wanted to do that too, but Monitsu wouldn’t help me!”
“You had your own two swords to bang together!”
“That’s how Kanao and I defeated Upper Moon Two! It was my Sudden Throwing Strike against her blade!”
“That sounds amazing, Inosuke-san!”
“Upper Moon Two? Wait, you and Kanao-chan?”
“Heh heh. We buried that bastard. Shinobu did too,” he folded his arms with satisfaction. “I heard about you too. The crows said only Upper Moon Six, right? Hahaha, big deal, I’ve beaten a Six before too.”
Nezuko’s eyes widened. “Upper Moon Six? Wasn’t that… that was… it was a girl with white hair, right? I think I remember…”
“Chun, chun,” peeped the sparrow on Zenitsu’s shoulder.
“No, no, no, that Worm Woman was the old one! It was a new one.”
“Yeah. A new one. Just filling out the bottom rung, it couldn’t even use its powers well yet.”
“Chun, chun, chun.”
“You beat it, Zenitsu-san?”
It didn’t seem Nezuko and Inosuke and Chuntaro could feel the cold sweeping in, or see any phantom behind him, pressing on his shoulders. The burns itched all over, and if they pressed this topic too far, Zenitsu knew they might burst open right in front of Nezuko. He couldn’t have her get a drop of that unseemly blood on her; that would be like allowing Kaigaku the pleasure of reaching through him to harm what Zenitsu loved. Kaigaku could pester Zenitsu all he wanted, but Zenitsu would never allow him any such satisfaction of touching Nezuko. “Inosuke’s right. It wasn’t much.”
“Amazing,” she lit up with awe anyway.
“Chun!”
“No, no, no, no, you should have seen me fighting Muzan, Nezuko-chan! That was a battle!”
“I guess,” added Inosuke, picking his nose. “You were awake for that one, even.”
“That was more Thunder Breath than I had ever used in my life! It made Jiichan proud, I’m sure—I could feel him coming through to kick me in the back and everything!”
“Then he broke it?”
“No, that was Muzan!!”
“Did something happen to your Ojiisan?” asked Nezuko, her hair and ribbon falling over to one side as she tilted her head with concern.
The itch spread to a deep burn, and a throb under all the scars. His throat ached, but under Nezuko’s gaze he still had it in him to blush. “Yeah. He died right before all this.”
She covered her nose and mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“Chun! Chun, chun--” the annoying bird seemed to take it upon himself to explain the whole situation, until Zenitsu placed his hand over him, much to the bird’s consternation.
Zenitsu redirected. “Oyakata-sama saw to his funeral, I heard. His remains are all ready for me to take when I get discharged. For now, they gave me that,” he indicated a pile of belongings at the foot of the bed. There was a folded haori on top, and Nezuko instinctively opened it up for a look, and the protective triangle pattern was hoisted over the bed like a banner in battle. “It’s not my size, though. I’ll just take it for safekeeping.”
“This is a good material,” she said.
“So was the one he gave me. That’s all in tatters now, though.”
“I never needed a haori,” said Inosuke, folding his arms.
“Do you want one, Inosuke-san?”
“I can have one?” he perked up like a puppy.
“It’ll get cold again. You should have one for winter,” she smiled like a benevolent goddess, and then blessed Zenitsu with her gaze. “Can I take this? I’m almost done fixing Giyuu-san’s.”
“I’d trust you with anything,” he answered dreamingly. It was only after Nezuko excused herself, taking Inosuke along but leaving Chuntaro for a longer visit, that Zenitsu realized he had answered without thinking. She wasn’t planning on giving the haori to Inosuke, right? No, she’d never do that, Nezuko was as far as anyone could ever be from heartless. Jiichan would be happy to have such a cute and wonderful girl like her hang on to that haori, wouldn’t he? What if she wore it? All the blood rushed to his face as he pictured her in it, and how cute she’d be. Then again, Nezuko was cute wearing anything! What about a fancy kimono? A furisode covered in flowers, waving her long sleeves around as she twirled and said his name, or even at the very opposite, Nezuko could be dressed in the poorest of rags and still be radiant! Even all that time with a slab of bamboo unfairly covering the bottom of her adorable face couldn’t hide her beauty! As Zenitsu melted into excited blushing and giggles, his peeved sparrow peeped one chiding ‘chun’ at him.
It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, but Zenitsu gained the ability to walk again. Likewise, Chuntaro was flying again, though he was still imbalanced when he perched. The Butterfly Mansion’s hospital was quieter now, and the sounds were happier and happier as the goodness of their new reality set in. There had been sacrifices, but they had won. It was a world without Kibutsuji Muzan.
It was a world Kaigaku wasn’t allowed into either, however hard he might try. Clawing away through Zenitsu was bound to get him nowhere, or at least that was what Zenitsu told himself.
The only demon spared was Yushiro, of a different breed in the first place. He had already removed himself from the Butterfly Mansion premises, but still made regular visits to check on his remaining patients. On the night he made it a point to visit Zenitsu, he gave off a sound like he was satisfied with having solved a puzzle. “The constant injections are overkill. Since it’s melded in with your anatomy, I figure the Breath Technique your own Corp uses is enough to keep it under control.”
“Breath? If I could stop them by blowing on them, I would. Don’t you go telling me about Breath Technique, if I can’t tell you about Demon Blood Art.”
“You’re still decades too young to go telling me anything,” he sneered back. “The workings of the Demon Blood Art should be similar, that’s why it still works. If you’ve got such a mastery of the tissues and vessels throughout your body, then keeping this in check is up to you.”
“No, but, see, all these burns were based on one of the techniques I could never use. I sucked at the later ones most. All I could ever do with Thunder Breath was the simple stuff.”
“You think I’d understand the finer points of Thunder Breath? I don’t care, that part’s up to you, you’re the one who trained in it.”
“You’re the one who’s infuriating. You never bothered trying to figure out anything that would help, this is a cop out!”
“I’ve been wracking my brain!” he raised his voice and gave Zenitsu a hearty whack against the back of his head. “You said you won’t do injections, so I had to rethink the whole delivery system! Be grateful I didn’t decide on making you swallow a pill the size of a duck egg!”
“Ow! What kind of—” he stopped himself before finishing, ‘—doctor hits patients,’ but he was careful to avoid the word ‘doctor’ so that Yushiro wouldn’t give that that heartrending sound again. “…what kind of delivery system did you come up with?”
Yushiro calmed to his usual cynical look, and then pulled a jar from his bag. “An ointment, like you said. Rather than a preventative, it’s for flare-ups. A little will go a long way. This should last a while.”
“An ointment! You really are a nice guy. Thank you! Thank you, you’re my hero!”
“Gross, stop,” he scowled and made for the door to exit before Zenitsu might cling to him or cry and drip snot all over him. Before he left he added so lowly under his breath that anyone with lesser ears might had missed it, “You all are the heroes. Thanks.”
Zenitsu pondered what Yushiro said about harnessing Breath Technique. He had a basic idea of the workings of the multidirectional techniques like Thunder Swarm and Distant Thunder, but he’d never be Kaigaku’s match in them. Kaigaku had an intuitive talent for them that made him able to skip the basics, but he never stopped there; he was always practicing and making himself stronger and stronger with them. In all his life, Zenitsu had never met anyone so driven; seeing Kaigaku practice was what made Zenitsu know he had to work just as hard, at least to even get one basic thing right. The First Form was never very complex, and Zenitsu was good at mastering the sinews of his legs, but not the whole like Kaigaku was. Sooner or later, Kaigaku’s Blood Demon Art was bound to slip out of Zenitsu’s control.
No, this wasn’t Kaigaku’s blood anymore. It was Zenitsu’s, and Kaigaku was a jerk for thinking he could use it, much less that he had any right too. Kaigaku had no right to anything the moment he chose to become a demon. Like hell Zenitsu was going to let that ghost with nothing better to do have his way, he should have stayed in hell in the first place.
Like hell he was going to allow Kaigaku to cut loose and stay in the world, especially not now that Zenitsu had a home to go to—a home with his friends, and with the girl he loved.
“Zenitsu-san!” came the sweetest, most unbelievably warm and cuddly and elegant sound to have ever found its way into his sensitive ears. It was so good to be alive to still have working ears to receive those treasured vibrations, he was alive, right? It wasn’t a delusion, right? He questioned that every time the sound came and nearly lifted him off his feet with how fluffy it made him feel in the head.
“Y-e-e-e-s, Nezuko-chan??”
“I finished it! Try it on!”
“Hm?”
No sooner had she said that than she whipped out the triangle pattern haori from behind her back, it snapped through the air with a sound like the clacking of Jiichan’s cane or peg leg. “This should fit you now, I hope.”
“Nezuko-chan, you refitted it?”
“Should I not have?”
“No! No, I’m happy! Really happy!! If I can wear Jiichan’s haori, that… that…!” he stopped, choked up and feeling the skin of a scar over his heart burning and itching to rip apart.
Nezuko’s touch came as the perfect distraction as she guided him to assume a dressing pose. “Goodness, Zenitsu-san, you’re freezing. Hurry and put it on!”
“R… right. Wow! It fits! It fits perfectly! You’re amazing, Nezuko-chan!!”
She put her hands on her hips, giving her handiwork a look over and emitting a sound that she was pleased with herself. “I did my best.” All that hard work, just for him! She must have observed his physique so closely to have gotten it so perfect, too! She went on, “I’ll start making one for Inosuke-san once we get home and settled in. Giyuu-san’s was so hard to fix, I barely salvaged it.”
“…’ch.”
“Inosuke and I got the flowers,” came Tanjiro, a big smile like he always had, only with one eye that lacked luster. “Are we ready to head out?”
“It’s time we go plant these in all the graves!!”
“C-A-A-A-A-W!” came a gravelly voice from far above. “CEMETARY, THIS WAY! THIS WAY! CA-A-A-W!”
“Where’s Chuntaro?” Zenitsu asked Nezuko.
“Right here. He’s taking a nap,” she pulled the collar of her pink kimono aside, and a feathered head poked out of a pocket between her layers, right at her bosom, and peeped a sleepy ‘chun.’
“You little twerp,” growled Zenitsu.
The sunshine was bright, so Zenitsu could catch no glimpses of Kaigaku’s ghost, even if he did feel the cold cling against his back and the drag as he walked.
If Kaigaku was so intent on staying there, fine. It wouldn’t make any difference. Better, even, so that Zenitsu could rub all his happiness in Kaigaku’s face. Look, he wished to tell him, I have friends. They’re closer brothers to me than you and I ever were. This is my family, who I have a home with now. There’s none of your kind left in this world, you made the wrong choice. You’re the one who never fixed that leak in your box of happiness, now you get to watch me fill mine. You get to watch, and that’s it.
You’ll never, ever get to touch Nezuko-chan, even if that means I never do either.
