Archive of Our Own ^beta

He’s in the infirmary again.

There’s no need to open his eyes to tell; the smell of medicinal herbs surrounding him is strong, and he can hear Aoi in the next room folding sheets. 

She’s muttering to herself about the rain and how gloomy it feels, and Zenitsu can’t help but agree. He can feel the stinging warmth behind his eyes, similar to the stinging healing salve on his body.

He’s in the infirmary again.

Zenitsu tries to take an intake of breath and finds it difficult. Tightly wrapped bandages cover his torso and new wounds. Despite this, he fills his chest with as much air as he can and then releases it slowly, feeling one of his ribs creak at the movement.

He repeats this action three times, trying to keep the tears at bay. He can feel them welling in his eyelids. He doesn’t know why he tries to stop them, as he knows it’s useless. They cascade down his cheeks silently and pathetically.

He’s in the infirmary. Alone. Again.

And he doesn’t remember why.

--------

Zenitsu hates going on solo missions.

They’re the worst. He remembers nothing from them. When there’s someone there with him, they can fill him in on the battle that was fought. They can explain how he fared in the fight and where his injuries came from.

With no one to be there with him, he’s left guessing what happened to him and what he did.

It was useful for sure, not having to fight the monstrosities they face every day. But having no recollection of fighting, waking up with fresh injuries, he couldn’t remember.

It was terrifying.

It’s what led him to days like this, where he’s staring out the window, trying to recall anything from his recent mission. Aoi had updated him a little, as she always did when he was here alone, and apparently, he was on bed rest for two weeks because of his injuries.

Zenitsu squints at nothing and thinks.

His memories of fights are always blurry. Like someone drew a picture in ink and then poured water over it, leaving only inky residue. Colors and sounds with no rhyme or reason. 

He feels like it shouldn’t bother him as much as it does.

Zenitsu continues to look at nothing, hoping the lack of input will let his brain actually do its job. As usual, it doesn’t give him anything. Just murky, dull colors.

How useless.

He hears Tanjiro before he comes to his room. It’s hard to miss Tanjiro’s sound, so light and warm. Zenitsu couldn’t miss it even if he tried, and he turns to meet his friend's eyes as he opens the door.

“Ah, Zenitsu! You’re awake!” Tanjiro looks surprised but happy, and Zenitsu can’t help but cry.

He immediately bursts into tears, and he would jump up to latch onto Tanjiro if his body weren't protesting it. It doesn't stop him from whining, though. "Tanjiro! I missed you so much! It was horrible! My body feels like it's on fire, can you believe that?!"

His friend smiles at him, and Zenitsu can hear the chime of relief flow from him. "I'm glad to hear you're okay."

He's not okay, his body is on fire and his brain is holding a grudge against him for some reason. But he can't talk about that without feeling stupid, so he just cries as Tanjiro sits down next to him and places a pile of papers in his lap.

“What’s all this?”

“Letters of appreciation.” Tanjiro picks one up, and a strange, sad note strums through him. Though he keeps smiling. “You saved an entire village of people, and they’ve been sending you letters. I’ve been going through a few since you’ve been asleep. I hope that’s okay.”

Tanjiro picks up one of the letters and fiddles with it in his hands. That sad note plays again. "You helped a lot of people, Zenitsu. You're really amazing."

Zenitsu feels his chest warm at the praise, but he pushes it down. Recognition hits him all at once. 

Tanjiro was on his own mission at the same time as Zenitsu. His emphasis on the people Zenitsu saved and the continuous sad tune in Tanjiro’s heart.

Tanjiro hadn’t been able to save everyone on his mission. 

What right did Zenitsu have to cry when his friend remembered every detail? Every gruesome scene, every scream of terror? 

Isn’t that worse than having no memory of it? 

He wipes his tears and grips his covers.

Get it together.

“Will you read some to me?”

Tanjiro lights up at that, and his smile becomes a bit more genuine. “Are you sure?”

Zenitsu motions to his bandaged eye. It aches slightly, but he has no clue how he injured it. He probably will never know. He tries not to think about it. “My sight isn’t the best right now.”

Tanjiro begins to read the pile of letters happily, but Zenitsu zones out pretty quickly. It’s weird to hear the praises of civilians when he has no memory of doing anything. It’s not like he doesn’t like it, it’s just… odd. Hearing about things he’s done.

His thoughts lead him away, toward something that Tanjiro had said earlier. He had finished his own mission right after Zenitsu and had been coming to visit him while he healed. This is the first time Zenitsu has been conscious enough to actually remember Tanjiro being here.

Though who knows, Zenitsu could’ve had a full conversation with Tanjiro before this and just not remember it. It’s happened before.

And it’ll happen again.

Would it be weird to ask him about it? To ask if his body has traveled the halls without him knowing, or if they’ve had talks without him being fully present? 

Zenitsu blinks and realizes he hasn’t been fully present since Tanjiro started reading. He bites his lip anxiously. He can’t zone out while he’s awake; he can’t lose more time than he already has. He blinks again and focuses on what Tanjiro is saying.

“This letter is from a young boy from the village,” Tanjiro says. He’s excited to read another one. Zenitsu can tell that the number of people he saved must be comforting for Tanjiro to hear.

Zenitsu would let him read as many letters as he needed to, as long as that sorrowful ringing note went away in his heart.

“It reads, ‘Thank you for saving our village. I was scared when you had us evacuate, and when the other two demons arrived, but you helped me be brave. I wonder if I race along the river, if I could learn to run as fast as you.’ And then he drew a picture of…” 

Tanjiro turns the paper in his hand, squinting as if trying to make something out. Zenitsu can’t help but watch him as he does. “I’m guessing you and a lightning bolt. How cute!”

Zenitsu smiles and thinks really hard. He had the village evacuated? He supposes that was a smart idea, but wasn’t there only supposed to be one demon? When did the two others show up? How dangerous was the situation for him to tell the entire village to evacuate? By the state of his body, he can assume it was pretty bad, but-

He hears Tanjiro shuffle in his seat and then he’s leaning into Zenitsu’s space to make eye contact. “Zenitsu? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just don’t… remember any of this. It’s weird to hear, I suppose.” Zenitsu leans back, the proximity making him nervous, and he scratches his face. 

An entire town has a memory of being evacuated by him. Of him helping them and getting them to safety. 

If he saw one of those villagers in public, he wouldn’t even recognize them.

Tanjiro hums and leans back into his chair. "You know, you say that a lot. You don't have any memory of the mission?"

"Well, not exactly." He remembers arriving at the village. He remembers Chuntaro sitting in his breast pocket before flying off to survey the area. He remembers seeing the demon and being too horrified to keep his legs moving. Seeing its tall stature and razor-sharp claws. Seeing its eyes meet his, its irises the same color as the blood it consumes.

Seeing its mouth open, wider than any human jaw could, revealing its pointed, jagged teeth, and then-

He was in the infirmary again.

"I remember everything before. But that's about it." Zenitsu finally says, closing his eyes and thinking again. Really thinking. He begs his brain to supply him with any information from the fight, but his brain must ignore his pleas because it comes up with nothing.

All he can remember is the bone-chilling fear from before and the numbing pain from after.

How stupid.

Tanjiro, the saint he is, must notice Zenitsu's frustration, and he places his hand on top of Zenitsu's bandaged-covered one. 

"Well," Tanjiro says, eyes soft, "That's okay. You saved all of these people. Even if you can't remember, you did so well, Zenitsu. They'll never forget that." He squeezes Zenitsu's hand. "I'll never forget it."

And. 

Well.

If there's one way to get Zenitsu's mind off a problem, it's words like that.

He can feel his face explode with heat and his chest isn't doing much better. He doesn't know how to react, so he headbutts Tanjiro and groans pathetically. "Why do you always have to talk like that?!"

"Like what?"

"Nothing, just read another letter!"

Having Tanjiro there helps. They're both hurting, but they're together.

It doesn't get rid of the problem. It doesn't keep his frustration from building. It doesn't stop Zenitsu from hating his brain and himself every day.

But it helps.

--------

When the problem first made itself known, it was during Final Selection.

He had been terrified. Absolutely terrified. He had begged his Gramps not to make him go and had cried and whined the entire time there. He had fully expected to die and made sure that his Gramps knew he loved him through tears.

"Would you get off of me?!" Jigoro had said, angry in voice but face soft and caring. Zenitsu spouting his love had caught him off guard, so Zenitsu took the opportunity to grab onto his good leg.

Jigoro sighed deeply, a sound Zenitsu was well accustomed to. He reached down and placed a hand on Zenitsu's head, firm and grounding. 

"You will be fine, Zenitsu. You are stronger than you think you are."

Zenitsu had held onto his leg until his Gramps pried him off and left him there in the dirt.

When the Final Selection started and they were forced into the woods, he looked for a nice place to die. He was sure, so sure, that this was going to be his final resting place, and he wanted it to be somewhere nice.

As he wandered aimlessly, his mind full of what he should write in his will, he encountered his first demon. His first real, life-threatening demon.

The trees had cleared a bit, and the moon was shining down in the clearing. The demon was crouched down, eating a poor soul who couldn't defeat it. 

The demon turned to look at Zenitsu, face bloody and full of gore. It had smiled at him. Like it was happy he arrived.

Zenitsu had thought this place was pretty enough to take his last breath.

The demon charged at him, Zenitsu felt his breath leave his lungs, and then-

…….

…..

…

.

He was on the ground.

He was on his back, looking up at the leaves swaying in the wind. The sun was warm on his skin.

Zenitsu blinked. Then blinked again.

Then his brain finally caught up to him. He shot up from where he was lying on the ground and took in ragged intakes of air. He couldn't catch his breath, he didn’t know where he was, and he didn’t know how he was alive.

He had blood and dust on his hands and haori. He didn’t know where they came from.

He patted his body for any injuries, found none , and then cried for thirty minutes. It was daytime by that point, and there was no need to keep his voice down.

He looked around his surroundings through his tears and discovered he was in a completely different location from where he had been previously. A densely vegetated area with a couple of bushes. He was enshrouded in the foliage. He was safe.

He didn’t feel like it.

His head was a mess of overlapping thoughts of when, why, how?  

He didn't know what to do, so he hid. For the rest of Final Selection, he hid and moved almost silently through the vegetation until it was over.

He crawled through the bushes, climbed quickly up trees, and stayed as silent as possible. His thoughts were loud enough as is, he didn't need to add to the noise.

He didn't dare sleep.

He didn't know what would happen if he did.

Eventually, he survived the Final Selection.

Zenitsu didn't know how, but he survived.

The rest of the ceremony was a bit of a blur. He remembers Chuntaro and the absurdity of his new companion. He remembers there being a fight. Not much else.

He made his way home.

He was so happy to be able to see his Gramps again. He could hear his heartbeat from a mile away, a constant, anxious thrum. And when they made eye contact, it was like Gramps' heart was crying out in relief. Though his face did not show this.

He ran the rest of the way, sobbing into his Gramps' chest and hugging him tight in case he tried to move away. But he didn’t.

His Gramps hugged him back, patted his head, and said, “You did it, Zenitsu. You came home .”

Zenitsu had been so happy to be alive. So relieved to be back with maybe the only person who cared about him. So excited to simply breathe. 

But he didn't know how he was alive.

And that terrified him.

--------

Inosuke does not know what personal space is. 

Zenitsu had found this out very quickly when meeting him, though it still often took him by surprise. 

So when he came back into consciousness on his seventh day in the infirmary to see beady green eyes peering into his soul, he, naturally, screams.

"Would you shut up?!" Inosuke says, covering Zenitsu's mouth with his hand. "Jeez, you're so loud!"

"What are you doing here?!" Inosuke had been on a long mission for around six days and wasn't supposed to be back before the end of the week. The sight of him being okay makes Zenitsu feel calmer, but he ignores that and keeps shouting. "No, actually, what are you doing?! Why are you so close to me?!"

Inosuke huffs, leaning back and scratching his ear. He’s sitting on the bed near Zenitsu’s legs as if Zenitsu isn’t extremely wounded.

Zenitsu notices that his mask is missing, although based on the bandage on Inosuke's cheek, he's assuming he had to take it off for first aid reasons. "Kentaro told me you got hurt pretty bad and I wanted to see for myself." He gestures to Zenitsu's bandages. "You look fine. Stop being a baby and get up!"

Zenitsu did not look fine. His entire torso and most of the left side of his face were bandaged. He was healing quicker than expected, but despite that, he knew he looked rough.

"If it's all the same to you," Zenitsu snarks and closes his eyes, "I'm going to continue to be a baby until I feel better."

He hears Inosuke shuffle closer and opens his working eye to see him nose to nose with him.

Zenitsu purses his lips and turns away. He can't look at Inosuke so closely without his heart racing, and he knows Inosuke would be able to feel it.

Despite this, Inosuke follows Zenitsu's movements and moves his head to keep eye contact. It's embarrassing.

"Inosuke, what in the world are you looking at?!"

Inosuke blinks and then points at Zenitsu's uncovered eye. "You have a really cool scar now."

Zenitsu's brain stutters.

"What?"

"On your eyelid," Inosuke says casually, bringing his pointed finger closer. Zenitsu closes his eyes at the proximity and feels Inosuke trace a line from his eyelid diagonally, stopping just before his temple.

"To here." Inosuke retracts his hand, and Zenitsu opens his eyes to see him smiling in his weird Inosuke way. Maniacal and excited. Zenitsu knows what he's about to ask and he hates it. 

"How'd you get it? It makes you look so cool!"

And.

It takes everything in Zenitsu not to tackle Inosuke to the ground.

It's not Inosuke's fault. It's not anyone's fault really, that Zenitsu's brain seems to work against him in moments like this. That there's a chasm in his memory bank that should supply this simple answer.

It's not anyone's fault.

But the anger and embarrassment Zenitsu feels is real, and he grips the sheets of his bed tightly.

"I don't remember." He says it through gritted teeth and the statement makes Zenitsu feel breathless. 

Inosuke either doesn't realize Zenitsu's sudden mood change or chooses not to comment. Zenitsu can't tell which option he'd prefer. "Were you unconscious?”

Zenitsu blinks. He’s never really had a conversation about his condition with Inosuke before.

Here goes nothing, he supposes. He grimaces.

“Um, yeah. Unconscious, asleep, whatever you want to call it.”

Inosuke makes himself more comfortable, propping himself on an elbow over Zenitsu's legs. This guy is ridiculous.

"Your muscles feel all zappy when that happens."

"You're gonna have to explain what in the hell you're talking about."

Inosuke grunts and points to Zenitsu's arm. "Your muscles are super tense when you're asleep. I can feel it. It's like a snake scrunching up before attacking. Ready for anything."

Zenitsu grimaces. "I don't think I like any part of me being compared to a snake."

Inosuke openly gapes at that. Zenitsu loves it when Inosuke doesn't have his mask on. He's so expressive, and Zenitsu could stare at him for hours.

"Snakes are amazing! They camouflage really well into foliage and are super quick to attack or retreat. Not to mention their bites! And they-"

Zenitsu watches as Inosuke suddenly goes on and on about snakes. He's bombarded by facts he knows he's going to forget in an hour, but Inosuke is surprisingly passionate, so he listens as best as he can.

His previous anger swirls under his skin though, and he quickly finds himself in his head again. He doesn't mean to, but he can't get his mind off of his scar.

He has a scar. A face scar that he can't remember getting. His Gramps always told him that scars were earned, proof of hard work.

He knows he should be proud. He probably got that scar protecting someone… But he could've also gotten it from a dumb mistake or not reacting quickly enough. He could've gotten it from simply tripping and falling on a rock.

He'll truly never know.

It shouldn't matter how it happened.

But it does. To him, at least.

The scar is on his face. Somewhere noticeable that people will be able to see and point out, and ask, 'How'd you get that?'

And Zenitsu will never be able to answer.

He zones back in as Inosuke suddenly points at his face. "They also shed their skin. They probably also don't remember where their injuries come from, they're changing too often."

Zenitsu's anger rises, and he grabs Inosuke's hand. He grits his teeth, his face screwing up in frustration. "Well, I don't shed my skin, this scar is going to be here forever. I don't have a snake brain, I just have a human one that doesn't work . I'm not a snake, Inosuke! I'm just… me."

He's just him.

He feels himself deflate, Inosuke's hand still in his, and he sighs deeply. "I'm just me."

It's quiet as Zenitsu stares down at the bedsheets and wishes his brain would just do something useful. Something besides whining. Anything.

It doesn't do anything.

Zenitsu tries not to cry and, for once, succeeds.

“Well, that's okay, too. Snakes are amazing, but you can't get close to them. I've tried." Zenitsu looks up at him. Inosuke is staring at him intensely. 

"I can feel you. You're all the best parts of a snake. So that's cool."

…A compliment. From Inosuke.

Zenitsu feels sad and giddy all at once. He laughs dumbly and can't think of anything to say. He realizes he's still holding Inosuke's hand. So he lets go and looks back down. 

He suddenly wishes Inosuke had his mask on again. His eyes are so sharp.

"And besides, I have no idea where most of my scars come from either."

Zenitsu looks back up at his friend in confusion. "What? Why?"

Inosuke shrugs and picks at the bandages on his cheek. Zenitsu has to stop himself from smacking his hand away. 

"I don't focus on that type of stuff. I'm too in the moment and before I know it, bam!" He claps his hands together and Zenitsu jumps. "I've got a new scar. Cool, huh?"

Zenitsu doesn't think it's cool, but Inosuke continues. "If that happens to you, that just means you're as spectacular and astounding as me."

Caring about Inosuke is an odd experience. Because Zenitsu can tell he's trying to relate to him. Trying to make him feel better in his weird Inosuke way. And the thought of that warms his heart in ways he doesn't have time to dwell on.

But the real reason caring about Inosuke is an odd experience is that, despite everything Inosuke just said, Zenitsu can only focus on one thing.

"Did you just use the words spectacular and astounding in the same sentence?"

Inosuke blinks and then sits up. His eyes are shining. "I did! The butterfly lady has been teaching me songinms-"

"Synonyms."

"-to improve my mind!" Inosuke grabs Zenitsu by the shoulders. "And you noticed!"

Zenitsu tries to lean backward, but Inosuke's grip is firm and unyielding.

Grounding.

And exactly what he needs.

So he teases. "Well, yeah, I noticed. If you keep going like this I won't be able to use pigheaded as a completely accurate insult anymore. Just a mostly accurate one."

And when Inosuke tackles him, it only hurts a little.

--------

On his ninth night in the infirmary, or rather the early morning of the tenth day, Zenitsu sneaks out into the forest surrounding the butterfly mansion.

He's not necessarily thinking clearly as he leaves, but when is he ever, with his brain being a bowl of soup most of the time? Sloshing around in his skull instead of doing anything useful. 

He takes a pillow with him, limping into the greenery and flowers until he finds a comfortable-looking group of bushes.

It's quiet in the forest, the only sound being the night insects and the shrubs as he parts them, hiding as well as he can. Darkness enshrouds him, faint moonlight peeking through the leaves.

He situates himself, making sure he's genuinely comfortable in the foliage. Then he takes a deep, deep inhale, brings the pillow to his face, and screams as loud and as hard as he can. 

Zenitsu screams a lot in his daily life, but this one is different. It's a raw sound, and he knew it was going to be when he first woke up. This scream comes from deep within him, like a ball of wire that he rips and pulls at until it comes up his throat and out of his mouth.

He tries to push as much of his frustration and self-hate into the noise as possible, as if expelling the hard, angry energy will make it leave him forever.

It reverberates in his chest, rattling his barely healed ribs uncomfortably. He keeps going though, squeezing the pillow in his shaking hands.

Zenitsu screams a long, ugly sound, eyes screwed shut until his lungs betray him and he can't make any more noise.

The sound cuts off, leaving him panting. The absence of noise makes the hard ball of rage and fear in his gut more prevalent.

He had a nightmare. 

Most of his nightmares are memories. His life is already horrifying, so at least his brain can grant him the small miracle of not making him imagine new atrocities.

It's not uncommon for him, and he's sure it's not unusual for most of his fellow demon slayers as well. His are usually a mash of noises and feelings, sounds of flesh tearing, a tingly buzz on his skin, and the constant thrum, thrum, thrum of his heart in his ears.

This one had images.

Zenitsu's dreams have images because they're his imagination. Always have been. 

Going to festivals with his Gramps, walking past the stalls, and trying everything. Dancing in the rain with Inosuke, giggling despite the weather, enjoying the sound of Inosuke's laughter. Stargazing with Tanjiro, watching his face light up in joy as he smiles and points at the sky.

All the things he wishes would happen, but probably won't.

His dreams should have images. His nightmares shouldn't. That's not normal. It shouldn’t be possible.

He tugs at his hair. The pain helps a little, but not much. He knows this nightmare was a memory, just like all his other ones. He knows it. And he hates it.

His subconscious has no right to laugh at him like this. What gives his brain the right to do this to him? To make him remember in the worst way possible when he's been begging, pleading with it to supply anything useful for the past week.

Images flash through his head, and an uncanny feeling settles over his shoulders. The images he has no memory of seeing, but he knows he’s experienced. Knows his body has experienced.

Running through a village, cobblestone clacking under his sandals, running toward a demon instead of away from it. His worldview tilts, and suddenly he's on the ground, his sword in the jaws of a demon that must have tackled him.

It inches closer to his face, saliva dripping and eyes bulging. It's growling. He can feel it rattling his sword. 

He turns his head, and another demon is approaching rapidly. The thump, thump, thump of its running feet shaking everything.

He turns back to the demon on top of him. It slashes its claws toward his face, and he can feel the pain as his skin rips open.

Zenitsu covers his bandaged eye and tugs at his hair harder.

He tries to breathe, but suddenly the wrapping around his ribs is too tight, and he can't, he can’t, he can’t breathe-

He claws at his chest, unwrapping the bandages, and inhales as much air as possible. His ribs scream at him, but he knows he can scream louder than them, so technically, he wins and can do whatever he wants.

Zenitsu laughs at the absurdity of that thought and then starts sobbing.

A stray leaf touches his cheek, and suddenly, he's not at the Butterfly Mansion anymore; he's at Final Selection again.

He's on his hands and knees, crawling through bushes, trying not to make a sound because if he does, he'll die. He can’t sleep because if he does, he may wake up somewhere new with blood and dust on his clothes.

He's at Final Selection, and there's dirt under his fingernails, and he doesn’t know where he is, and he's going to die, and he can’t breathe, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t-

…….

…..

…

.

He’s in the infirmary again.

He knows this without opening his eyes, as he knows it every time. He can smell the medicinal herbs as always. He can hear the shuffling of the butterfly girls going about their chores. His face feels warm, which probably means it’s afternoon by now.

His throat hurts.

He tries to take a deep breath and finds that his ribs are rewrapped in bandages. They don’t feel as tight as they did last night, and he doubts they were ever that tight to begin with.

Zenitsu opens his eyes, though he doesn’t want to. He’s surprised to find Aoi next to him, sitting in a chair and quietly folding origami. She’s really into it, nose scrunched in concentration as she folds the paper into itself. There’s a familiar weight on his head, and he can hear the soft chirps of Chuntaro snoring into his hair.

He watches her hands for a while as she creases and smooths the paper, the motion delicate but purposeful. He wonders who taught her how to do it.

“Would you like to fold some with me?”

Zenitsu blinks in surprise, bringing his eyes from her hands to her face. She’s not looking at him, turning the paper over and continuing the motions. 

He tilts his head to the side. “What are you making?” He’s glad his voice doesn’t sound as bad as it feels. Although years of screaming will do that, he supposes.

“Frogs.” Aoi holds the paper up, now finished and crimped into a cute little frog. She places it on his bed and picks up another piece of paper. “I can teach you if you want.”

Zenitsu’s hands feel shaky, but he nods nonetheless.

It takes him a few tries to get it down, the motion being completely new to him. But Aoi is a great teacher, and despite his shaking hands, he starts to have his own little army of amphibians.

“You know,” Aoi says after a lapse of silence. She’s moved on to making little butterflies, which Zenitsu thinks is on brand. “Your bird friend was the one who found you out there.”

Zenitsu doesn’t say anything. Chuntaro nuzzles further into his hair.

Aoi keeps talking. “He came and got me, chirping like crazy. I think he was crying, which was something I didn’t know birds could do. You’re rubbing off on him, huh?”

Zenitsu huffs a laugh and turns his paper over.

Aoi takes a deep breath and stops folding. She looks up at him, and the heat that’s usually in her eyes is gone. Her conviction is still there, just softer around the edges. It’s odd.

"I'm here every time you come back from your solo missions, and you're always spacy afterward. And I think I… kind of understand your problem."

She fidgets in her seat slightly but stops and furrows her eyebrows. “Well, not exactly, but a little bit.”

Well, that’s not what he was expecting. At all. “Wait, like my passing-out problem or my memory problem?”

"Your memory problem," She taps her temple for emphasis, "I have no clue why you pass out, but I understand the frustration with memory gaps."

Zenitsu leans forward and feels his ribs complain at the action. He ignores it. "What? How?!"

Aoi places the paper down on Zenitsu's bed, and she bites her lip. He's never seen her so hesitant. "After… after my Final Selection, I decided to stay here instead of fighting demons. You know?"

Zenitsu nods.

"After what I had seen, I couldn't get myself back in the field. I just couldn't. It was pure luck I passed, and it was easier to stay here." She glances up at him, then stares back at his sheets intensely. "It was easier to go through the motions, not thinking about anything specific and just… float."

Float. 

Such a simple word for such a scary topic.

Zenitsu grips his sheets lightly. "Do you still… float?"

Aoi grimaces, and Zenitsu doesn't push.

She takes a deep breath again. "At the beginning, I was in my head. A lot. I would have full conversations with people and barely be present, would go about my tasks on autopilot, and I wasn't ever really here."

She huffs and then shrugs her shoulders. "Anyway, memory gaps. Forgetting stuff. I get it. I should probably get to the advice I wanted to give." 

Aoi points at him suddenly, and he jumps at the motion. The heat in her eyes has returned full force. "You have to be more forgiving to yourself.”

Zenitsu furrows his eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Brains are weird,” She shrugs, “And they do weird things to try to keep us alive. You have to stop blaming yourself for that. You’re trying your best.” She leans forward. “If you keep doing your best, you keep moving forward.”

Before Zenitsu can say anything, she keeps talking. “And talk to the other two.”

He feels his heart skip a beat and clenches the covers again. "...what do you mean?"

Aoi looks at him like he's dumb. "They're worried about you, idiot. They know you're upset, but they don't know why, and they keep coming to me for answers." Her gaze soften again, but she doesn't avert her eyes. "Answers only you can give them."

Zenitsu bites his lip. They're worried. Tanjiro and Inosuke are worried about him. He didn't mean for that to happen. 

…Though his actions have been concerning recently, haven't they? 

Aoi leans forward and rests a hand on his. He looks up to meet her gaze. "I'm not saying you have to tell them everything. But when I opened up to Kanao and Shinobu, the people who cared about me, it helped." 

She squeezes his hand. "The people who care for you will help you. But only if you trust them and open up."

Zenitsu holds her eye contact.

And nods.

Maybe he does need some help.

--------

Zenitsu spends his eleventh and twelfth days in the infirmary assessing his injuries with Aoi.

His body is mostly okay, besides his ribs and his slight limp in his right leg. Aoi carefully peels the bandage off his eye, and it takes a while to adjust to the light. He was nervous that it’d be permanently damaged, the memory of it being torn open fresh in his mind.

But the damage wasn’t too deep, only affecting his eyelid. He can see fully again, and that in itself is a miracle.

Aoi makes him do some simple exercises, tests his reflexes, and his depth perception. He whines and cries the entire time, but makes sure to thank her through his tears every so often.

She’s been opening up more to him about her Final Selection and her time at the Butterfly Mansion. Hearing her talk about it so openly, about her fear and insecurity, makes him feel less alone in his head.

She’s helped him in more ways than he can count.

But she can’t stay forever. She huffs at the end of the twelfth day with a stern, "Take care of yourself!" and leaves him to sleep. 

He dreams of making her a flower crown.

--------

On the thirteenth day, Zenitsu writes a letter to his Gramps.

He misses him a lot, and if he's going to go through with being more open about his problems, his Gramps should know first. He was the first person who saw Zenitsu as something more than a burden. He should be the first person Zenitsu trusts with his issues.

It just feels right.

The letter is long, borderline rambling, and he cries while writing it. But it feels good to know his Gramps will read his words. He's not sure what the reply will be, but reading his handwriting will bring Zenitsu comfort regardless.

After the letter is finished, he sleeps for a long time. Thinking about his problems is exhausting, and his body is still healing, so he doesn't mind the extra sleep. 

He dreams of eating cake and having tea with his Gramps.

--------

He wakes up to the sound of people shuffling in his room.

He can tell they're trying to be quiet, which is silly considering his hearing. Quiet whispers are followed by a 'shhh' noise, which just makes Inosuke 'shhh' louder in response, so Zenitsu decides to open his eyes.

It's dark out, the moonlight coming through the window being the only light. Tanjiro has his hand over Inosuke's mouth, and Inosuke, for some reason, looks pleased with this.

“We have to be quiet!” Tanjiro whispers-shouts. “Aoi said he isn’t completely healed, he still needs his rest!”

Inosuke rolls his eyes dramatically and says something that sounds like, “I am quiet!” but it’s mostly muffled through Tanjiro’s hand.

They continue to quietly bicker back and forth, and Zenitsu watches their interaction silently. Though not for long because very soon he’s crying again.

He doesn’t even know the direct reason why he’s crying this time; it just felt like something he needed to do, so he does it. Something about these two trying (and failing) to sneak into his room to check on him just makes him sob. He already knew, but… they care about him.

They care about him .

He bawls louder.

They’re by his side in an instant, Tanjiro with wavering hands as if wanting to touch but not sure if he should, and Inosuke with incessant poking and pushing.

“Are you hurt?” Tanjiro says, hands moving frantically. “Should we call Aoi?”

“What is wrong with you?!” Inosuke shakes him back and forth by the shoulders. “Did you hit your head or something?”

“Wh- Inosuke, stop shaking him!”

Zenitsu continues to cry, but manages to get out, “I’m fine, just gimme a second…”

It takes him a little bit to get it together, Tanjiro and Inosuke taking worried glances the entire time. But eventually, Zenitsu takes a sniffling breath, and the tears stop. Well, mostly.

He’s been preparing for the conversation for the past day, but now that he’s here, he doesn’t really know how to go about it. It feels selfish to even bring up. His fellow Demon Slayers have to deal with the horrors every time they go out. What is he even complaining about?

But then he looks up at his two friends and listens to them. To their hearts, to their songs. Their tunes are so different, yet they echo the same beat. Both of them drumming, almost in sync, a constant thrum of worry, worry, worry.

And he knows he has to come clean.

“I’m sorry… for worrying you two recently.” He sniffs and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I didn’t want to push,” Tanjiro says, eye contact soft yet unwavering, “But you’ve been so off since you came back.”

Inosuke huffs and puffs his chest out. “I’m never worried!” Then crosses his arms and squints. “But what has been going on with you recently?”

Zenitsu takes a deep breath. 

And he explains.

He stutters the entire time and avoids eye contact with both of them. But he explains. By the time he’s mostly done, his hands are sweaty and his skin feels like it’s buzzing.

“And like,” He feels like he’s rambling at his point, but he keeps going. “I’m always told I’m doing good out there, that I protected a lot of people, but it doesn’t feel real. It is, but it doesn’t feel like it.

“And it’s not like I want to remember that stuff, you know? When I finally did remember, I freaked out like an idiot.” Zenitsu wrings his hands. “But this constant fear in my chest when I wake up is horrible. I’d rather have the memory than wake up with new wounds I can’t remember getting.” He bites his lip. 

“At least, I think I do? I don’t know. It’s stupid. My brain hates me. It’s scary. I don’t know.” He finishes lamely.

He can’t bring himself to look at them. He can’t. They’re going to be disgusted with him. They’re going to hate him. Why is he complaining? He has no right. Why would-

“Hmm, honestly, it sounds like a weird defense mechanism. That’s interesting.”

Zenitsu blinks and looks up. Tanjiro’s eyes are genuine, as they always are, but something about the innocent look makes Zenitsu want to bite him.

So he does.

“Ow! Wh-”

“I just poured my heart out to you and you think it’s interesting?!” Zenitsu gnaws on his arm. “I’m having a crisis over here, you jerk!”

Tanjiro tugs his arm away and whines. “Well, it is!” He rubs his arm up and down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take away from your fear. I just never thought of it that way."

He does genuinely look apologetic. Zenitsu feels a little bad for biting him. But only a little bit. 

Tanjiro keeps talking. "I don’t think your brain hates you. I think it’s trying to protect you.”

“So it’s like your body is a snake,” Inosuke says, looking up at the ceiling. He looks deep in thought. “But your brain is more of a porcupine. It curls up to protect itself, leaving its quills out for defense. Huh… cool.”

Zenitsu thinks about biting him, too, but stops himself.

"It’s not cool. It’s awful! It’s… It’s so scary!” He's crying again. He feels like an idiot. “It doesn’t feel real. ” 

The joint thrum of worry, worry, worry, strums in his ears again, and he takes a deep breath.

“My fights, they don’t feel real. I know they are, but…” He wipes at his face. “I don’t know. I hate it. I need clarity. When I’m by myself, I just can’t…”

He places his hands on his face. “Ugh, this feels stupid.”

“Zenitsu, it’s not stupid.” Tanjiro's voice is so understanding, so soft, and all Zenitsu can do is weep pathetically, “It is scary. Waking up and knowing something happened, but not knowing what? That's scary."

“Yeah, I mean I’m never scared,” Inosuke says, head tilted to the side. “But the fact that you are, and you still try to fight? That’s commendable. You should… I don’t know, be nicer to yourself?”

Aoi’s words ring in his head.

“You have to be more forgiving to yourself.”

He feels suddenly as if a weight had been taken off his chest, and he sobs openly. He grabs both Tanjiro and Inosuke quickly and hugs them tightly. 

Tanjiro is quick to return the hug, and while Inosuke doesn’t, he allows himself to be held, and that’s more than Zenitsu could ever want from him.

Tanjiro rubs his back and whispers words of “Shh, it’s okay, we have you.” Inosuke just sits there, but eventually he places a hand on Zenitsu’s head and starts messing with his hair. Zenitsu can’t tell if he’s trying to comfort him or just needed something to do with his hands, but he doesn’t mind either way.

His cries begin to taper off, and he lets them go. He wipes at his face as Inosuke complains about snot being on his shoulder.

Chuntaro flies to the windowsill then, peaking his head in as if seeing what all the commotion was about. Suddenly, Inosuke jumps off the bed, lunging at the bird and catching it in his hands.

 “Wh- Inosuke, be careful!” Zenitsu’s about the get up himself to stop him, but by then Inosuke is back, sitting next to him with a very pissed off sparrow in his hands.

“I am careful!” Inosuke opens his hands and delicately places Chuntaro on top of Zenitsu’s head. “I just had an idea!”

Tanjiro raises an eyebrow. “And your idea made it so that you had to lunge at a bird?”

“Yes!” He sits down, looking smug, and then points in Tanjiro’s direction. “What’s the bird saying right now?”

Chuntaro chirps and chirps, and Tanjiro purses his lips. “Uhm, nothing good…”

“But you can understand him?” Inosuke leans forward, suddenly excited. “Everything he’s saying?”

Tanjiro’s smile is slightly strained. “Unfortunately, yes. He… has a lot to say about you, Insouke.”

Rolling his eyes, Inosuke leans back on his hands. “Eh, I don’t care. But that helps your memory thing a little, right?”

Zenitsu’s eyes widen as he finally understands. “Wait… you’re saying that once I come back from my missions, Tanjiro can just ask Chuntaro what happened, and then Tanjiro can tell me what he says?”

Inosuke shrugs. “Yeah? That works, doesn’t it?”

Tanjiro gasps, and his previous smile turns genuine. “Inosuke, that’s a great idea! You’re so smart!”

Inosuke stares. Then very quickly turns away so they can’t see his face, but the tips of his ears are red and his voice cracks as he says, “Yeah, obviously! You don’t gotta say it!”

“Hey, turn around-”

“No!”

They continue to go back and forth, but Zenitsu is crying again. He decides to take Inosuke’s distraction as an opportunity to hug him again.

“Ew, snot!”

“Inosuke!” Zenitsu holds onto him despite him squirming and cries into his shoulder. “You have no idea what this means to me!”

“Kentaro, get him off!”

Tanjiro peels Zenitsu off of Inosuke, so Zenitsu decides to cry into Tanjiro’s shoulder instead. “It’s just such a smart idea!”

Tanjiro pats his shoulder. “I know.”

“And I-”

Tanjiro nods. “I know.” Then he tilts his head to the side. “How do you not get dehydrated from crying so much?”

“Wahhhh!”

Tanjiro just hums.

Zenitsu very obviously needs a moment, so Tanjiro and Inosuke talk quietly as he composes himself.

By the time he’s stopped crying for the third time in the last hour, he’s exhausted. His eyes are heavy, and he’s basically leaning his full weight on Tanjiro’s shoulder. He can feel himself drifting, but reaches out to find Inosuke’s hand.

“Thank you. Both of you.” His voice is heavy with sleep. “You’ve helped me so much. Thank you. ”

Inosuke doesn’t say anything, but he squeezes Zenitsu’s hand slightly. He can hear the smile in Tanjiro’s voice. “Of course. Do you want us to stay?”

Zenitsu nods. He feels himself being eased into lying down, still on Tanjiro’s shoulder. He can feel Inosuke lying down on his other side, as he continues his conversation with Tanjiro.

Zenitsu doesn’t hear what they're talking about, but he does hear their hearts. The sound of their songs is a bit more in sync than they were before. The thrum of worry isn’t completely gone, but a new hum of relief is louder. More steady.

He smiles and falls asleep to the beautiful melody.

He dreams of the warmth from the sun and the stability of the earth.

--------

Zenitsu wakes up on his final day in the infirmary, warm and comfortable.

The medicinal herbs are present, but muted under the sweet smell of wisteria. He can hear Chuntaro outside in the trees, talking to the crows. The butterfly girls run down the hallway, seemingly playing hide and seek.

He opens his eyes, feeling the warmth on his face from the sun and the two people next to him.

Tanjiro stayed next to him all night, though he looks as if he’s about to fall off the bed at this point. Despite this, he looks peaceful, hair smooshed to his face and snoring lightly. Inosuke claimed most of the bed sometime during the night, sprawled out over Zenitsu’s legs, and drooling on the sheets. He twitches slightly as Zenitsu stretches, but continues to sleep.

He watches his friends as they rest, cementing this moment to his memory.

He knows. He knows that the next mission he goes on, his memory will be snatched from him once again, taken and dunked under cold water, not to be seen until it wants to emerge from the depths of his brain. He knows this.

But the thought of it doesn’t bother him as much as it usually would.

Because Zenitsu also knows that this memory, the memory of those closest to him resting peacefully, isn’t going anywhere.

That they aren’t going anywhere.

Zenitsu closes his eyes with a smile on his face.

And for the first time in two weeks, he feels completely at ease.