The 2 sides of Fate

Dear Tanjiro,

If you’re reading this now and notice that there’s a bit of a gap between when I last wrote and this entry, it’s because I stopped writing here for a bit. I’m really sorry about that.

I was feeling a bit down and thought it would be pointless to keep writing when it was clear you weren’t waking up any time soon. I thought I had recorded everything I needed to know, but rereading my notes on sword forms and breathing techniques made me realize that just because I’m not learning anything new doesn’t mean I can’t record day-to-day things that might be important later to look back on.

And I shouldn’t give up on you. I KNOW one day you’re going to wake up and when I can’t remember everything, I can use this to share what I did to get this far. So don’t worry, I'll keep writing so both of us can look back at this later when things are better, I promise.

Anyways, the Master gave me my final test before he allowed me to go to Final Selection; I have to deflect a lightning bolt. Crazy, right? Apparently, every thunder breathing slayer has done this, so I gotta do it myself to prove that I learned everything I need to from Master’s training!

And now I’m getting help from someone who knows Master!

His name is Zenitsu Agatsuma, and he’s a bit strange but cute nice! He’s really jumpy and cries a lot, and can be super loud when he gets stressed or I say something nice to him. But I saw him hit a lightning strike with a sword! It was so cool and you can tell he has a lot of skill. I just hope that I can be just as strong as him one day!

Anyways, I’m going to start training privately with him for the next six months until I can complete my Master's test! Zenitsu says it’s going to be terrible and difficult and that it’s gonna make me want to cry and die (in that order apparently), but I don’t care. I won’t let one last obstacle stop me from completing this test. No matter what it takes, I’ll do it.

I promise, I won’t give up, Big Brother! I’ll make you proud and turn you human!

-Nezuko

P.S. I’ll still leave some space for you here in case you do wake up. Even if you don’t, no worries; it’ll be here just in case.

Nezuko yawned, rubbing her eyes as she finished writing her latest journal entry. The exhaustion and constant aching of her body were making it difficult to focus, but she concluded her work and set her brush aside.

As much as she knew she needed sleep, a part of her was tempted to stay up a little longer and look through the entries she wrote down on total concentration breathing since she was still having trouble with that. Or she could look at the thunder breathing forms again that she had yet to get done perfectly (which was honestly all of them). No, maybe just a quick exercise for her leg muscles so she could have a little more strength tomorrow. Or maybe—

Nezuko blinked awake at the sudden pain on her forehead, realizing she had dozed off sitting up and had fallen asleep on the desk. She rubbed her head, wincing at the bruise.

Okay, I guess I need to get some sleep.

With that, Nezuko crawled over to her futon and laid under the covers, getting as close to the edge as she could so she could be pressed up against her sleeping brother. She cuddled close to him, one last thought in her head before falling asleep completely.

I promise, I’ll be strong enough for you, Big Brother.

No matter what it takes.

Nezuko left for the lightning field early the next morning, eager and anxious to start training with Zenitsu. Thankfully, the sky over the area wasn’t as dark and stormy as it was last time, so the strikes weren’t as frequent nor aggressive as they usually were later in the day. She took that as a good sign.

Now if only she could find the blond boy…

“Hey.”

Nezuko instinctively unsheathed her practice katana at the voice behind her. Zenitsu shrieked and fell to the ground, crawling a few feet away from her while shivering violently.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know you were there!” Nezuko quickly sheathed her blade and offered the boy her hand. He gazed at the hand before awkwardly looking away and quickly standing, not even bothering to dust himself off. She tried not to be offended by that. “So, uh, I’m ready to start training!”

“Huh?” Zenitsu gave her a blank look. “For what?”

Nezuko frowned. “So I can pass Master Kuwajima’s test? Deflecting the lightning bolt?” The boy cocked his head, no trace of recognition in his eyes. “Wait, you…don’t you remember that? From yesterday?”

In the distance, lightning struck the ground and thunder boomed. And Zenitsu’s eyes bulged and he screamed.

“Holy crap! You’re right! Why did I agree to that?” He started pacing back and forth, rambling and pulling at his hair like he did the day before. “And here I was thinking I had more common sense than that crazy old man! I don’t know the first thing about teaching. Crap, crap, crap, what am I supposed to do? I’m going to get her killed and she’s going to end up just like—”

“Um, maybe you can just start with telling me how you learned to strike the lightning bolt?” Nezuko interrupted, suddenly very worried the boy was one step away from having a panic attack. Zenitsu froze mid-step and stared at her with eyes that looked on the verge of tears. Nezuko sat down, folding her hands neatly in her lap and placing her practice sword in front of her.

She gestured for him to sit across from her. “Why don’t we just talk for a little while? Maybe if you explain it first, it’ll be easier to understand.”

Zenitsu gave a shaky nod and followed her example, sniffling and wiping his face with a yellow sleeve. “O-Okay, sorry.”

Nezuko waved him off, smiling. “It’s fine.”

Though that was a bit strange…Maybe he just has trouble remembering things?

I’m sure it’s fine. I shouldn’t be critical of others without knowing more about them, anyway. He agreed to help me, so I should give him a chance before judging him.

“Okay,” Nezuko said, sitting up a bit straighter and giving the blond boy her undivided attention once he stopped crying. “So, tell me, how do you go about passing the test?”

Zenitsu blinked a few times, resting his chin on his hand and frowning at the ground. “I guess I just kind of…I don’t know, think of it like when Gramps is telling me to go through the forms. I just use the one I can actually do and just…do it.”

“So you do actually use the forms to hit the lightning bolt?” Zenitsu nodded a bit distractedly. Nezuko found herself playing with the ends of her training yukata, trying not to feel too dumb about going months just waving her sword around.

“Yeah, you just focus, get ready to hit something, and then…hmm.” He squinted harder, like he was trying to solve difficult arithmetic.

“By then, well, I start crying and telling Gramps that I don’t know what I’m doing. But then he either hits me with his cane or threatens to do it, so I try really hard to do what he wants, but then my nerves and heart feel like they’re gonna explode and I kind of blackout and wake up. And whatever I was trying to hit is…gone?” He looked up at Nezuko, expression completely oblivious to how ridiculous that sounded. “Does that make sense?”

…Never in Nezuko’s life had she been so tempted to lie to someone before. But she knew what would happen if she tried to do that. And frankly, she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of Zenitsu.

So she was honest.

“No, I’m sorry. The rest of that made absolutely no sense.”

The blond’s face fell, and Nezuko immediately felt guilty about causing that. “I-I mean, the stuff about using the forms makes sense. I think I just need some clarification on how to use them properly.” She rubbed the back of her head, embarrassed. “I couldn’t even figure that out right away, so that helped. I must be pretty stupid not to think of that first.”

“What? No!” Zenitsu shook his head violently and waved his hands around. “Y-You just needed a bit of perspective, you know? I’m sure you would have figured it out. I can already tell you’re really smart and pretty just by looking at you!”

Nezuko blinked. “Huh?”

Zenitsu looked confused, but the look just as quickly faded and he slapped a hand over his mouth as his whole face went scarlet.

“Please don’t tell me I said that out loud,” he squeaked.

“Yeah, you did,” Nezuko said to herself, grabbing her sword and unsheathing it, staring at the silver and yellow reflection.

Perspective…maybe she was looking at the test all wrong. Perhaps there was a different way she could look at achieving her goal. It wasn’t just blindly swinging her sword; she needed to think carefully about where she was striking.

Though really, she needed to think carefully about what she was striking.

Maybe that’s the perspective I need to be focusing on. She thought, standing up, then turned to Zenitsu. 

Well, she didn’t have a lot of time to think about other options, so she might as well try this idea.

“Alright Zenitsu,” Nezuko said, pointing her sword at the boy. “How about you and I—”

“NO NO NO!” Zenitsu scrambled up like a cat on a hot tin roof and started running away from Nezuko. “I’M SORRY I CALLED YOU PRETTY! DON’T KILL ME, PLEASE, NEZUKOOOOO! AHHHHHH!”

Nezuko watched as Zenitsu bolted from his spot like his life depended on it, tripping several times before getting back up and fleeing like he was escaping a natural disaster. She stood there, slack-jawed, as he continued screaming apologies and darted into the peach orchard.

What is up with him?

And when did he call me pretty?

…wait, he thinks I’m pretty?

She decided that was a thought for another time (one that she decided she wouldn’t be sharing with her older brother any time soon).

“Hey wait!” Nezuko called, grabbing her sword sheath and finally chasing after the boy. “Come back! I just wanted to spar! Why are you running away?”

“BECAUSE I’M NOT READY TO DIE!” Zenitsu wailed, his voice echoing through the trees. He tripped over a root, went sprawling, and scrambled up with the energy of someone who believed that death itself was hot on his heels. “I HAVE SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR! LIKE, UH… CATS! AND SWEETS! AND…OH, THE PEACH BLOSSOMS! THEY’RE REALLY NICE THIS TIME OF YEAR!”

Nezuko couldn’t help but laugh as she sprinted after him. “Zenitsu, I’m not going to kill you! I just thought we could spar a little!”

Zenitsu screeched to a halt, turning to face her with a wild look in his eyes. “SPAR? Spar as in, with swords? Are you trying to make my heart explode?! I thought we were friends! Friends don’t try to murder each other!”

Nezuko rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Okay, drama queen. Friends also help each other train, remember?”

“TRAIN? Oh sure, let’s just casually ignore the fact that you almost gave me a heart attack!” Zenitsu huffed, crossing his arms and pouting. “Fine, we can train. But if I die, you’re giving my eulogy.”

Nezuko giggled and patted his shoulder. “Deal. Now come on, you big scaredy-cat. Let’s get to it before the thunder gets any worse.”

Zenitsu muttered under his breath as they walked back to the clearing. “How do I always end up in these situations? If I survive this, I swear, I’m retiring to a nice, quiet life. Maybe I’ll grow peaches…”

After Nezuko finally finished reassuring him(that no, she was not going to kill him for calling her pretty, though she was pretty sure Tanjiro’d do it if she told him what Zenitsu said), the two of them began sparring every day.

It seemed reasonable enough; besides, Nezuko herself never had another person trained in her breathing style practice with her before. The closest she had was Master Kuwajima, but he never fought her with a sword and usually just acted as a target she could never hit to improve her aim, durability, and other senses. She couldn’t land a hit on him, no matter how hard she tried, and as much as she hated to admit it, it always dampened her spirit a bit.

So, she didn’t think having Zenitsu as a sparring partner would be any more difficult, and maybe a tiny part of her hoped that he would be a slightly easier opponent for her to handle.

How wrong she was.

Training with Zenitsu was a whole other level of torture. Even when he wasn’t using an exact form, the blond boy moved fast enough to become a yellow blur that was nearly impossible to hit. Even when Nezuko tried applying the other forms, it was as though Zenitsu could sense what she was going to do and move out of the way, only to hit her with one of his own attacks.

In a strange way, the unpredictability of his attacks reminded her of lightning strikes. Sometimes she could only see where he was going to strike the moment before he did so.

But that wasn’t what frustrated her the most.

Sometimes, Nezuko swore she saw him fighting with his eyes closed, like he didn’t even need to see her to effortlessly strike her hard enough to send her flying (which would promptly be followed by him snapping out of whatever haze he had been in and all but screeching for her forgiveness at a decibel that made her ears ring). He would move and parry her attack effortlessly, leaving the girl struggling to keep up when he really got into a rhythm she couldn’t match.

It was times like those that made her feel like she was back in the lightning field, blindly waving her sword around and looking like an idiot.

And all of this with him only using a wooden sword against her real one!

She asked about it one time, concerned that one of her moves would accidentally break the fake blade and seriously injure the boy. But Zenitsu reassured her that it was fine, babbling about how he knew how to avoid getting hit by her more deadly strikes and that she shouldn’t worry about him.

It still left her puzzled, and when she tried pressing more about what he meant, she was met with him rambling on and on about sword techniques and hellish training until Nezuko dropped it and they went back to sparring.

But at the very least, it felt like she was being productive and moving in the right direction. Along with her other exercises and daily running through the obstacle course, Nezuko could at least confidently say she was doing something to improve her abilities.

So despite how much every day left her battered with bruises and with muscles aches and cramps, she kept pushing herself to the absolute limit.

She could only hope that the results of all that work would come through sooner rather than later.

Dear Tanjiro,

I’ve started making some progress fixing some of your things!

I hope you don’t mind what I’ve done with the earrings…

“I’m surprised you don’t have your nose buried in your journal.”

Nezuko hummed, keeping her attention on the stitch she was making in Tanjiro’s haori. “I already did some studying earlier, and I’ve been training all day, so this is just next on the list of things I want to get done before Final Selection.”

Repairing their clothes had been something she kept putting off to focus on her training, but after another brutal session at the lightning fields, Nezuko was pretty sure if she did any more walking her legs would give out. So figuring now was as good a time as any, Nezuko grabbed her brother’s checkered haori and brought it out to the main room and worked by the firelight.

At the moment, it was the only thing her brother owned that she could take care of. The robe and pants he usually wore were in most need of stitching, but the bloodstains from his fight with the winged demon refused to come out, and parts of the clothing were beyond Nezuko’s mending abilities. For the time being, Nezuko decided to leave them be, and would probably ask Kuwajima later if they could go into town and buy her brother some clothes for when he woke up.

(It would be when, not if, he woke up)

“Well, make sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard,” Kuwajima said, returning his attention to his own writings. “I know you have a deadline to meet, but the last thing you need is overworking yourself and causing an injury that will take up too much recovery time.”

“I won’t, don’t worry,” Nezuko mumbled, carefully threading the needle and tying off her stitch. She held the checkered fabric out, pleased at her work. There were just a few more tears that needed sewing, so she brought it back and resumed her work.

The two worked in silence for a while afterwards, the crackling fire and faint brush strokes of Kuwajima being the only sounds filling the small house. It was calm and quiet, and in a way, the closest Nezuko felt to being back at home before everything happened. All that was missing was Tanjiro and her family.

She took closure in the fact that she at least had her older brother, even if he couldn’t be sitting with her right now.

But he will, you just have to be patient. If he were in your shoes, he would be telling himself the exact same—

A sharp pain bloomed in Nezuko’s finger. She hissed and dropped the haori and needle into her lap, sticking her finger in her mouth to stop the blood.

“I think that’s the fifth time you’ve pricked your finger in the last few minutes,” Kuwajima commented, looking up from his own work. “Maybe you should be getting to bed.”

Nezuko shook her hand out a little, suddenly feeling a few more pinpricks of pain on the pads of fingers that she didn’t even notice until now. At the same time, she yawned and was suddenly aware of how tired she felt.

Did I really zone out and not notice until now?

Maybe she was a little more tired than she thought.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Nezuko quickly finished the stitch she was working on and folded Tanjiro’s haori. “Sorry, I just really want to get this all done soon.”

The old man wavered her off. “Rushing won’t get you anywhere. Moderation is the key in any task you do. But let me know if you’re having trouble fixing anything. I may not be as good at sewing, but I know some people who are good at repairing things and would be happy to help.”

Nezuko paused, looking over at Kuwajima in surprise. “What sort of things do they repair?”

The older man grunted. “Anything really. I guess it depends on what it is specifically.”

An idea crept into the back of her mind.

Anything, huh?

“So like…what about delicate objects, or something made out of paper?”

“I suppose. They would have to know what it is before making any promises, but I haven’t heard of anything they couldn’t at least partially restore. Why?”

Nezuko mulled over his words, rubbing at the worn fabric of Tanjiro’s haori. Kuwajima stopped writing and turned his attention to the girl when her silence persisted. “Is there something you have in mind?”

Maybe...

Hopefully...

Nezuko got up and went back to her room, setting the haori next to where she kept her pink kimono (it was next on her list of things to fix once Tanjiro’s things were done). She then riffled through the pink fabric until she found what she was looking for.

She came back into the room with the hanafuda earrings cradled carefully in her hands and sat closer to Kuwajima so he could see.

“These belonged to my older brother,” Nezuko explained as the older man set aside his work to study them closer. “They’re family heirlooms, passed down to the eldest son, a-and they’re really important to him because they were a gift from our father and…”

And that monster that killed our family and turned Tanjiro destroyed them.

“They’re just, really important to him, to us.” Nezuko shook her head and held them out to her mentor. “And that’s why…I mean, do you think they can be fixed?”

Kuwajima took the cloth from Nezuko and she felt herself watching carefully how the old man handled the earrings, like they might turn to dust with one wrong move. She was grateful that he never tried to pinch or move them with his fingers but rather used his palms under the cloth so as not to damage the fragile paper. His pinprick eyes lingered on them for a few more moments before folding the cloth delicately over them again and handing them back to her.

“Yeah, I think I know someone who can fix them.”

Nezuko perked up at that. “Really? Who?”

Kuwajima reached into the wooden box he kept nearby and retrieved some paper as he picked up his brush. “A couple of associates have owed me a favor for some time now. I’ll ask them and see if she can restore them.” He began writing a few characters, but paused and looked up at Nezuko. “That would mean you would have to send them off to be repaired. It could be a couple of months or even longer. Is that okay?”

Her hand clutched the fabric a little tighter, and she had to remind herself not to crumple what was folded inside of them.

This might be your only opportunity…

Don’t you want to fix one of the few things your brother values most in his life?

She unfolded the cloth again, taking in the crumpled and ruined paper. “They’ll be careful, right?”

Kuwajima nodded. “Of course. I trust them and wouldn't have suggested them if it were anything to the contrary. You have my word.”

Nezuko trusted her mentor, and if he was vouching for whoever could fix them, then…

Nezuko would do this, not just for her brother’s sake, but to honor the memory of her family.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

A few days later, when Nezuko got back from another sparring session at the lightning field, Kuwajima informed her that he received a response and that the person he asked (a woman who was associated with the Demon Slayers named Akane Kimura) could fix the earrings. That same night, she surrendered her family’s precious earrings to the old man and prayed that she would see them again in better condition.

Dear Tanjiro,

I think I’m finally starting to become good friends with Zenitsu.

He worries me sometimes…

Nezuko thought Zenitsu was a bit strange.

He was always very loud and jumpy whenever they met up, and at times would try to get out of training with the claim that he “was going to lose miserably to her” despite winning every single match. He would then go on to complain and despair about how he wasn’t helping at all whenever they took small breaks or couldn’t answer questions Nezuko had about how he did certain moves. She tried not to get annoyed or too overwhelmed by the mood swings and negativity he would throw her way, but even she had to admit there were times she was very close to snapping at him.

Then there were times he would act like he forgot what they were doing in the first place, spacing out as though his mind were lost in another place. He did this every once in a while when she would come in the mornings, staring at her like it was his first time seeing her or not even remembering that they would meet up at that time to train.

(Some days, after Zenitsu had beaten her, he would just stand still, unmoving for a few minutes as Nezuko got her bearings back. Even after she would get up and call his name, he would remain where he last struck her, eyes closed, expression stony and almost angry.

No dramatic screaming, no plethora of apologies, no concerned questions about if he hurt her or not. He would stay there until he eventually walked away, fast and sudden enough that she couldn’t keep up with him.

The only clue she could find about what may have been causing those episodes was that the shutdown only happened when he had been fighting with his eyes closed. His behavior kind of reminded her of sleepwalking, but that couldn’t be true…right?)

But the moments that Nezuko enjoyed the most just so happened to be when they both agreed to take a break from training.

They would move away from the withered training grounds toward where more of the greenery of the orchard thrived and just did what they could to relax. Nezuko would bring her journal and go over the notes she took about her training, eventually doing some exercises to keep building up her strength or meditating to practice her breathing.

Meanwhile Zenitsu would stay nearby, wandering not too far from her. All the while, he would talk about anything and everything that would come to his mind. Sometimes he would pick flowers and bring them back to Nezuko, telling her about their significance or asking which ones were her favorites. Other times, he would point at the clouds and try to figure out what they looked like. Her favorite topics were whatever animal he could hear at the moment that even she couldn’t pick up on their sounds.

Nezuko couldn’t help but enjoy listening to him talk, especially after a particularly rough training session or when her frustrations started to fester in her mind like an angry hive of bees. When he got really excited about a flower he found or a nest of baby birds nearby, his excitement would blend into the sounds of nature around them, as though it belonged with the life thriving in the orchard.

It was a thought that made her both happy and sad for some reason, but she didn’t know why.

Nezuko got an answer one day when, while he was picking flowers and she was reading her journal, she asked him, “Are you related to the Master?”

“Huh?” Zenitsu turned to her, frowning before realizing what she meant and looking away, stuttering. “Oh, uh, n-no, I uh, just call him Gramps. You must think that’s kind of weird, right?”

Nezuko put her journal down and smiled at him. “No, I actually think it’s kind of sweet. You must really care about him to think of him like family.”

The boy kept his attention on the bundle of white clover he was picking, but she managed to catch his face blushing a soft pink like when she first met him.

Cute.

Nezuko returned to her book.

The quiet between the two didn’t last long before Zenitsu was rambling again.

“I…didn’t know my parents, so I lived on the streets for most of my life. I fell in love with this nice girl, and when she said she needed money, I gave her everything I had and then some. She skipped town the next day, and I was left with a massive debt that I couldn’t pay the tax collectors.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I…probably deserved that for being stupid, since that wasn’t the first time I got tricked by a girl for money or free stuff.”

Nezuko stopped paying attention to the words on the page, feeling a sudden burst of anger at whatever girls thought to do terrible things to such a kind, innocent boy like Zenitsu. She found herself wishing she could give them a piece of her mind.

The least they could have done is be honest to him. He didn’t deserve that.

They didn’t deserve Zenitsu’s kindness.

Nezuko realized that Zenitsu had stopped talking, and when she looked up again, found him staring at her with big amber eyes and his face full of disbelief as if he heard what she was thinking. “Y-You don’t have to sound so angry about it. That was like forever ago! Besides, i-it happened a lot, so—”

“I don’t care!” Nezuko interrupted, shutting her journal a little harder than she meant to and sitting up. “They sounded horrible if they took advantage of you like that! They should know better, and you deserve better than them!”

Zenitsu’s jaw dropped and his face flushed a deep red that Nezuko didn’t know was possible. She could feel her own face heating up at the reaction as well as when she noticed how close the two of them had gotten when she was yelling.

Why am I acting like this? I was just telling the truth! He does deserve better.

So why are we being so weird about this?

Is this…No! Stop that! Just be normal, Nezuko!

Go back to the conversation and everything will be fine again!

They both must have come to this at the same time, for they turned away and resumed their last activities.

“A-Anyway, Gramps found me and paid off my debt,” Zenitsu stammered, keeping his back to Nezuko and continuing to look for more clovers. “I thought he was another scammer at first, but he said he just wanted another pupil to pass on his breathing style to, so I would become a demon slayer in return.”

“I-I see.” Nezuko wasn’t even bothering to read what was in front of her and was doing her best to rub the red off her burning face. “So, you passed the Final Selection, then? What was it like?”

“Oh, I uh, never made it to the Final Selection.”

Nezuko paused, looking back at the boy again and not caring about the lingering blush. “Wait, you haven’t? Then are you still training too?”

“No, I–” Zenitsu stopped. He didn’t turn around, but something about him had changed. When he spoke again, something about his tone felt off. “No, I’m not training anymore.”

Now the girl was confused. “I thought you were going to become a demon slayer. What happened?”

No answer. The blond boy stood up, the clover he had collected slipping from his hand. “I can’t be a demon slayer anymore. That’s it.”

“But why? Did something happen between you and the Master?” Nezuko got up and walked toward the boy, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “I’m sure whatever happened you two can work it out. Why don’t I tell him about you and—”

“NO!”

Nezuko jumped back and suddenly as fast as the wind, Zenitsu was right in front of her. She could see the blind panic in his eyes, different from his usual expressions from whining or bemoaning his existence. His hands were inches from her arms like he wanted to grab her but doing so would be painful for him (or her).

She wanted to step back and give herself space, but she felt trapped by the static energy surrounding the boy.

“You can’t tell him about me! Absolutely not!” Zenitsu’s hands curled into fists and his eyes darkened. “Not yet, I’m not ready for that yet. It’ll be really bad, like, like I don’t know, just bad for me and him and, and Kaigaku will—he’ll kill—” he groaned, digging his hands into his hair and pulling at the choppy strands and finally stumbling away from Nezuko.

“Crap, sorry, I—”

“It’s fine! Please stop that!” Nezuko pleaded, completely out of depth about what she should do and decided to try and sound as reassuring as she could. “I won’t tell the Master about you, okay? It’s fine, really!”

Zenitsu didn’t respond, and just took deep breaths that sounded almost painful, like they were rattling his ribcage. He dug his fists into his eyes and curled into himself, like he was trying to protect his face. This went on for what felt like hours, until finally he took a long breath and sighed, removing his hands to reveal puffy, hazy eyes that stared at the grass in exhaustion.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I…didn’t mean to ruin the mood. I should go.”

“No, you’re—” Nezuko didn’t get to finish as the boy walked off. She followed him a few steps, but stopped when she figured he probably needed some alone time. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He paused, but kept walking a moment later.

She watched him until his yellow yukata disappeared into the shadows of the trees. Defeated and somewhat tired from whatever mood swing took over Zenitsu, Nezuko went to grab her journal to head back to Master Kuwajima.

She couldn’t help but feel sad when she saw that during the episode, Zenitsu had stepped on the white clover he had been collecting.

The next day, Nezuko met Zenitsu for training as usual.

She expected him to be like yesterday, but all he did was stare at her before squirming under her gaze. “Hey, why are you looking at me like that? You look like I was being mean to you or something. Wait…was I? Oh my god I’m sorry! I—”

“No! It’s fine, don’t worry,” Nezuko quickly assured the boy. She ignored the weird feeling in her gut and put on the most honest smile she could. “Sorry about that. Let’s just get to training, okay?”

He calmed down after that, and they went on with training as normal.

She never brought up the day before again.

But something did stick in her mind.

Not once during the entire argument did she get any sort of strong emotions from him.

It was as though the blond boy had no aura, which had never happened to anyone Nezuko had met before.

It also made her realize that not once this entire time was Nezuko able to sense Zenitsu’s presence.

Almost as if…the boy was never there.

Dear Tanjiro,

I’m a little worried about Zenitsu.

Master wasn’t that much help, though…

It was another late night. Kuwajima was writing on one side of the main room while Nezuko was on the other, this time working on her pink kimono. She had finally managed to get the blood stains out, and was now refashioning it so it could be worn as a haori if she chose to.

As she worked, though, her interaction with Zenitsu kept replaying in her head. And how freaked out the boy got when she mentioned him meeting his mentor again. But the more she thought about it, she realized Kuwajima never mentioned anything about her being his only student.

Not to mention that woman in town asking about her brother, assuming that Nezuko was Kuwajima’s granddaughter…

“Kid, I can practically hear your thoughts from over here. If you have something on your mind, just say it.”

Nezuko jumped, her needle and the patch of fabric she had been working on slipping out of her hands. Her mentor hadn’t even looked up at her from his letter, but she could hear his fingers tapping against the wooden floor in the manner he usually reserved for when he wanted her to speak up.

And before she could help herself, Nezuko blurted out, “Have you trained anyone else before?”

“Hm?” Kuwajima’s brows furrowed, only pausing for a beat before going back to his work. “Of course. Have you forgotten about the idiot that sent you here?”

Oh, right, Kaigaku. Nezuko nearly forgot about the foul-mouthed swordsman. But realizing that this might still be her chance to learn a little more from the old man, she returned to her stitching before carefully asking another question. “But besides him…anyone else?”

Kuwajima didn’t answer. Nezuko chanced a glance at him, and saw him giving her a look that bordered on being a glare of boredom and his usual gruff expression. But it didn’t last long as he sighed and continued writing.

“There’s been one or two swordsmen who’ve passed through looking for a breathing style,” Kuwajima replied. “Granted, they didn’t stay longer than a week due to not feeling like the breath of thunder matched their style.” He paused, looking away for a moment before humming. “Actually, I think the longest someone stayed was about a month. He almost became my student, but decided to take the little bits he learned and adapted it to suit his abilities, though he didn’t make it into a new one, thank God. He’s doing quite well, last I heard from him.”

“You can make your own breathing style?” Nezuko found herself asking with genuine curiosity.

Kuwajima nodded at her. “Remember when I mentioned that subcategories of breathing styles exist? Those usually come from swordsmen who adapted one of the main five into something more suited for their way of fighting.” He shrugged and began folding the paper he had been writing on into something smaller to transport. “But no, he never officially took up the breath of thunder, so you and Kaigaku are the only ones I’ve ever considered my official students.”

Nezuko nodded, frowning at her kimono. That still didn’t explain what happened to Zenitsu, or why the boy was hiding from the old man.

And then there was the fact that Kuwajima had to know something about Zenitsu. The blond spoke so much about the old man it had to be true.

So why was Kuwajima acting like Zenitsu never existed?

“It’ll be really bad, like, like I don’t know, just bad for me and him and, and Kaigaku will–he’ll kill–”

“Is this about that comment in town?”

Nezuko kept her head down, running her thumb over the new stitch she made near the hem. “Maybe?”

The old man sighed, and Nezuko sensed something frustrated coming from him. “I told you, they probably assumed it was Kaigaku. They see a lonely old man and decide to jump to conclusions about me having mystery grandchildren when I literally introduced you two as my wards.”

Nezuko looked up and opened her mouth, but stopped.

“You can’t tell him about me! Absolutely not!”

“Not yet, I’m not ready for that yet.”

“What? Is something wrong?”

It was on the tip of her tongue, and Nezuko was one second away from bringing up Zenitsu. But then she remembered the panic on his face and the way he spiraled unlike with his usual episodes. Like he was afraid of something terrible happening to him or the old man if she breathed a word of the blond’s existence.

But not just Kuwajima…

“–bad for me and him and, and Kaigaku will–he’ll kill–”

How did Kaigaku fit into all of this?

“Nezuko?”

“Never mind,” Nezuko finally whispered, turning back to her work. “Sorry, I guess…I was just curious.”

She felt Kuwajima’s gaze on her, like a hawk ready to descend with more questions, but he eventually turned his attention away and didn’t say anything more.

It just became another forgotten conversation Nezuko would remember.

Three months had passed, and Nezuko pushed herself as hard as she could.

She worked her new muscles tirelessly in the fields, now able to swing her sword with enough strength to cut through thicker targets and deflect anything coming her way with reflexes that had been sharpened to a point.

She honed her breathing skills to the best of her ability, practicing until her lungs begged for her normal method, but finding that happening less and less.

She continued reading late into the night until she had nearly all information about the thunder breathing forms memorized, even if she was still struggling to perform them against another opponent.

And she kept up her running, doing the obstacle course early in the morning and late in the evening, both before and after training with Zenitsu.

Out of all of her training, Nezuko was certain that was taking up the most amount of her energy. It left her with aching calves and blisters on her feet that made it painful to walk on unless she wrapped them. But she could feel how strong her legs had become, much more muscular than when she initially started, how her lunging speed and strength had greatly improved.

And yet, three months before Final Selection, she started noticing how hard it was to even do that now.

Her feet were hurting even more than usual, her ankles aching like she was running with the rocks she usually tied to them for certain training exercises. Her head would get weird and floaty after the first ten laps of any run, and she was activating traps that she learned to dodge in her first few weeks of training. And now her abdomen started to burn as though a vine with thorns was wrapping itself around her intestines and squeezing every time she tried to put on a burst of speed or breathe deeper.

She couldn’t understand why this was happening now, of all times when she needed to get better before it was too late for Tanjiro.

No, she HAD to be better as soon as possible. And that meant running more. And practicing more. And reading more. And—

A wire snapped.

A rope trap snagged her left ankle, and Nezuko shifted to easily cut the dumb trap before it tightened, but the floaty feeling flooded her head and stole her balance. The ground disappeared and Nezuko swung blindly as she lost control of her body. She heard the rope snap, but not before a sharp pain erupted in her ankle and another trap launched a rock that threw her into a nearby tree.

Pain hammered into the back of her skull, and Nezuko blacked out.

Dear Tanjiro,

That frustration you felt about not being able to go to town that day,

I’m sorry I didn’t understand it until now…

“So what’s this about you overworking your body to the point that you’re passing out?”

Nezuko didn’t say anything. She kept her head down and played with a loose thread on her futon’s blanket. A cup of water that she had been slowly sipping from was in her other hand.

“Kid, I found you passed out in the middle of the track. Do you know how hard it was for me to carry you back here and then run to get the doctor to make sure you weren’t dying of some shit I didn’t know about? I’m not as young as I used to be, so a little more warning next time would be helpful!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Nezuko whispered. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

There wasn’t much she could say in her defense. She was pretty sure if she had found her mentor passed out, she would have panicked and berated the old man for hiding something that may not have been healthy. So the least she could do was sit through his lecture about health while the same doctor that looked over her brother months ago examined her.

The good news was her ankle wasn’t broken or badly sprained, but would need to be left alone for a little bit to heal. And she only had a mild concussion from getting knocked into the tree, so as long as she monitored herself for the next twenty-four hours, she would be okay.

The bad news was…well, everything else was going wrong with her body.

Kuwajima pressed her to be honest about everything that had been bothering her, so Nezuko spilled to the old man and doctor about the dizzy spells, constant leg cramps and blisters, and overall aches in her body. And after answering more questions about what she had been doing recently, she found herself admitting to the extra training sessions she had been pushing on herself every day for the past three months.

The doctor deduced that it was a combination of muscle fatigue, dehydration, and just overworking her body in general. The treatment: lots of rest and water.

Not really what Nezuko wanted to hear, but she didn’t question it at the moment. And when the doctor had finally left, Kuwajima laid into her.

“Look kid, I get you don’t have a lot of time, but this kind of behavior is destructive and will hurt you in the long run.” Kuwajima sighed and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion as though he had been the one running himself to death. “I don’t want you thinking that this is proper training every time you go out on a mission. I set limits on what you should and shouldn’t do for a reason. Everything I’ve taught you is set to the maximum of what I believe your body can handle, so doing more than that will only hurt you, and look at where that’s landed you.”

Her ankle throbbed despite the painkillers she was given beneath the bandages. Her blisters burned like mini sparks on the bottoms of her feet. Her arms and legs ache like lava, bubbling and hot but formless.

Nezuko wanted to go back to reading from her journal or practicing her breathing.

But what she really wanted to do was sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

“No training for a month.”

…Oh.

“WHAT?!” Nezuko tried to stand, but a hand pushed her down and took her cup before she spilled it on herself. “No way! I only have a few months left a-and I still haven’t struck the lightning bolt yet and—”

“You won’t be able to do any of that if you keep passing out and ignoring the VERY obvious signals your body is throwing your way,” Kuwajima said firmly. He set her cup aside and fixed a harsh glare at her. “I won’t have you treating yourself this way if you choose to go down this path, end of story. You can pick up on your reading after a week or so, but no physical training or whatever else you’ve been doing while you’re out during the day.”

“B-But—”

“And no running! I’ll know if you’ve been sneaking out to the track, trust me. And if I do catch you, I’m adding another month to your bedrest. Got it?”

Nezuko wanted to argue more, but under the old man’s stern face, the fight left her. She couldn’t muster up the energy to go against her master’s orders, especially after today. She slumped down and nodded.

What else can I do?

Nothing.

A hand patted her head before getting up and leaving her bed. “Rest up. You might not believe it, but you deserve a break after everything you’ve been through to get here.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Nezuko alone. She curled up under the covers, not yet falling asleep and doing her best not to cry despite how much her eyes burned.

Because there was one thing Kuwajima said that Nezuko agreed with.

And it was that she didn’t believe him for a second.

For the entire first week, Nezuko stayed indoors under Kuwajima’s watchful eye.

He made sure she ate, drank plenty of water, got more than enough sleep, and only did the bare minimum of work around the house while resting her feet.

But the entire time, Nezuko didn’t feel any sort of relief.

She just wanted to get back to training, to being productive toward her goal again, and now it just felt like she was going to lose all of the progress she had been building up by sitting around and doing nothing.

Kuwajima had assured her that although she may be a little rusty when starting up again, her body wouldn’t just magically forget everything it had been practicing before the break.

But an entire month of not being able to touch a sword or run…

In some ways, Nezuko felt like she had already failed.

Dear Tanjiro,

I wish you could have met Zenitsu.

I really appreciate him…

“NEZUKOOOO! YOU’RE STILL HERE!”

After her week of house arrest, Kuwajima finally gave Nezuko permission to leave with the lingering threat of not doing anything strenuous other than reading. She appreciated that he at least let her walk around the orchard as long as she was back by sunset.

As she wandered through the fields, she realized she never gave Zenitsu a heads-up about her situation. So she went straight to the lightning fields and found him waiting like always.

“Where have you been?” Zenitsu scampered up to her, his big honey brown eyes noticing the wooden crutch she was using to keep weight off her ankle. “What happened to your foot? Were you attacked? Oh gods, was it Gramps’s training? I knew it! That crazy old man is trying to kill his students! No one would believe me! Wait, no, it was only Gramps that wouldn’t believe me. I still think—”

“Zenitsu, I just got injured running. That’s all,” Nezuko cut him off. She rubbed her face and tried not to let her anxiety or frustration show too much. “Sorry, just…I can’t train for a month. So we can’t do anything productive anymore. I…I’m sorry I couldn’t let you know sooner.”

The boy’s rambling stopped. He stared at her almost owlishly before frowning and speaking softer than he usually did. “You sound sad and frustrated. Are you okay?”

No, I’m not…

Before Nezuko could even formulate a response, a sob broke out and she found herself crying into her hands.

“Ah! I-It’s okay! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you!” Zenitsu hovered around the girl in a panic, his arms moving in aborted attempts to comfort her without touching. “W-What happened? Can I help? I’ll help this time, honestly! Just-Just tell me what’s wrong!”

“Everything’s wrong!”

Zenitsu stopped stuttering and gave her a confused look. And Nezuko took that as her cue to let everything out to the strange boy in front of her.

“I feel stupid, like I can’t do anything right!” Nezuko sniffled and wiped her eyes even as they kept replacing the tears she was trying to get rid of. “I just want to look after my brother, and now because of some stupid test, he’s going to die! He’s all I have left and I…I should know what I’m doing, but nothing’s working. And when I try to put more effort into even that, I make stupid mistakes that cost me valuable time. I just…I just…”

I just feel useless.

Like how she couldn’t help her family when they had been attacked. How she failed to get her brother to snap out of his demonic mindset before he decided that taking his own life was better than living. How she barely got Kaigaku to spare Tanjiro before hurting her brother. How she was so close to dying at the hands of a demon that Tanjiro had to step in and nearly die fighting for his life.

Every single time, she failed to protect the ones she cared about, and this was her one chance to return the favor after everything Tanjiro did for her. And because of her own dumb decisions and injury, Nezuko couldn’t even do that.

Two months. She essentially had two months to figure everything out and that was it; Tanjiro’s fate was as good as sealed.

At times like these, she couldn’t help but wonder how Tanjiro would have fared if their roles were reversed. Would he be in the same predicament as her? No, he would have figured something out by now. He would have succeeded where she failed.

Sometimes, she wondered if things would have been better if he went down the mountain instead. Maybe things would have been better if she were the one that had been turned—

“Don’t think like that! That’s dumb!”

The firm, slightly whiny tone in Zenitsu’s voice tore Nezuko from her thoughts. He looked like he was trying to put on a confident face, but at the same time was worried about her saying something back. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath before scrunching his eyes and clenching his fists at his sides.

“Y-You shouldn’t think that way about yourself! It’s okay to sulk about things for a while, but they happen for a reason! You’re here now, and you’ve done better than I think a lot of people would assume you would, so be happy about that! I know it seems bad right now, a-and like everything’s against you, but one thing I learned is that always running away and giving up changes nothing. You have to try, and you did, and I think that’s super awesome! I know you’ll get it eventually, but don’t let your mistakes hold you back! Because someone as strong and pretty and kind as you deserves to know that I will always believe in you! Got it?”

Nezuko felt the crutch nearly slip from her arm, her jaw hanging open and her eyes burning from more tears. She had to cover her mouth with a hand to prevent her ugly sobbing from spilling out even more than it already had.

No one…besides maybe her brother and her parents, spoke to her with such strong confidence about her abilities before. It felt overwhelming, like this was way over the top and not something to be said to someone like…well, like her before.

As the second eldest child, Nezuko was used to filling in the gaps when her family needed her to, so the burden on her older brother and younger siblings would be that much less heavy to bear. Disappearing and small acts of kindness going unrecognized were fine by her, something she got used to over the years if it meant her family could be happy.

But this level of praise and belief in her…

“I know you’re going to do great things one day.”

It made something inside her ache and feel more comfortable than it had before.

“Uh, can I show you something?” Zenitsu asked timidly, shuffling off to the side and pointing away from their usual training spot. He had stood in silence while Nezuko had collected herself, and finally spoke when it seemed as though her emotions were back under control.

Nezuko nodded, still sniffling and her breath catching in her throat. The boy didn’t make any comment about it and led the way.

They walked for a while, but it was only after a few minutes that Nezuko realized that they weren’t going to one of the areas the two of them usually frequented on their training breaks. In fact, as she started paying more attention to her surroundings and not on making sure she didn’t burst into tears again, the part of the orchard they were in was…unfamiliar.

“What is this place?” Nezuko asked, wiping her puffy eyes.

The boy stopped and turned to her with a gentle smile. “My favorite place.”

Nezuko caught up to the boy and gasped.

It looked almost like a meadow, with spring green grass and all sorts of flowers growing in splashes of color. Butterflies flirted from one plant to the next, dancing with the birds singing from the trees surrounding the secret area. Dappled shadows danced across the edges, and the smell of nature and something sweet like honey lingered.

It looked like something straight out of the books her father used to read to her and her siblings. Something that could only exist in a dream.

“It’s beautiful,” Nezuko breathed. How did she never know about this place?

As if reading her mind, Zenitsu chirped, “Oh, uh, it’s a little farther away from where Gramps made me do a lot of my training. I’ve tried running away a few times, and once I got lost and found this place. So I go there sometimes when I’m trying to hide, but Gramps always manages to find me.” He smiled, more relaxed and at peace than Nezuko had seen him her entire time knowing him. “I like it here a lot, so I thought you might too.”

Nezuko nodded, giving the boy her own watery smile. “I do, I really do. Thank you, Zenitsu.”

The boy laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head and blushing. “Yeah, sure, no problem! Uh, do you want to just sit down? I can show you some cool stuff here.”

Nezuko giggled, uncaring if her face was still red from the earlier bout of crying (or was she blushing too? It didn’t seem important at the moment). “Yeah, I’d love to.”

And for the first time since coming to the orchard, Nezuko didn’t think once about training.

The next few weeks actually began to pass by fairly quickly after that.

Nezuko would still leave at her normal time to meet Zenitsu, and the two of them would spend the day in the little hidden area of the orchard. It would be much like when they took breaks for training in the past, but rather than reading or meditating, Nezuko found herself joining the blond boy in picking flowers, cloud watching, and exploring the beautiful nature growing around them.

During their time together, Nezuko couldn’t help but notice how happy and carefree Zenitsu acted compared to when she interacted with him in the past. He still had his moments of stuttering and mini-freakouts, but they could be resolved much quicker. It was in the more peaceful moments when the two of them were comparing the flowers they had picked and whatever interesting trinkets they could find on the grounds that Nezuko was grateful for her friendship with the boy.

Granted, there were still days that Nezuko felt antsy and wished to go running or pick up her sword again. There was still the threat of what would come in the next few months, the worries and intrusive thoughts about failing lingering in the back of her head.

It was a looming storm that would build over time once she got back to work, but with healthy distractions from the boy and his excitement over the small, innocent wonders he found, Nezuko allowed herself this small bit of time to relax. Because if she spent all her time worrying about events she had yet to control, she would never heal properly in time. She would be lost in her own shortcomings, shackled by her failures and regrets.

Nezuko didn’t want that, not when she came to the realization that her obsession with training would have resulted in her never knowing that this little secret paradise existed. And she was certain that would have been one of the biggest regrets of her life.

So she spent her time lying in the grass and watching the clouds slowly crawl across the endless blue above her while Zenitsu filled the silence with his rare bits of optimism and joy about whatever was on his mind.

Despite everything, these would come to be the most cherished weeks of her time here.

Dear Tanjiro,

Master had a talk with me today.

I think I finally figured it out…

It was only a few days before Nezuko could go back to training when things finally began to fall into place.

The girl had been walking back from another meeting with Zenitsu, the sky gaining a pinkish-orange tint as evening slowly crept its way past the horizon. Her journal was tucked under her worn sleeve, her mind buzzing with the advice the blond boy had given her earlier about how to look at her breathing when fighting.

But something was missing, something she just wasn’t able to see just yet. It was right there, obscured by a fog she couldn’t see through yet. She needed to know what was being left out. What was it?

“You’re back a little earlier than usual.”

Nezuko stopped, grateful that her ankle had fully healed and the sudden movement didn’t bring any twinges of pain like before. She was surprised to find Kuwajima lounging under the shade of a tree, his cane propped up against the smooth bark and a peach in his hand. Usually the older man rarely left the house unless to help tend to the orchard or with her training from the prior year.

“I just wanted to head to bed a little earlier, that’s all,” Nezuko said, changing directions and walking over to her mentor. “I know you want me to rest as much as I can before going back to training.”

The old man raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Wow, and here I thought you would be sneaking out and I would have to keep dragging you back inside to rest. Am I actually witnessing you taking care of yourself?”

“Hey, I listen!” Nezuko argued without any real heat. She sat next to Kuwajima and set her journal off to the side. “Excuse me if I do things at my own pace. I have a lot going on, give me a break!”

The old man laughed, shaking his head with mirth. “I guess I can’t argue with that too much. At least you’re willing to listen to reason.” He grabbed another peach and handed it to Nezuko, which she gratefully accepted and took an immediate bite out of when she realized how hungry she was. “I’m just glad you’re in a better place now.”

“Me too,” Nezuko mumbled around her bite of peach. The itch in her muscles was still there, ready and eager to get back into the swing of things, but the urgency to do so was not as strong as it was a month ago. And she found herself okay with that for the time being. “All I need now is to figure out how to use the forms better.”

“Still struggling with that, eh?” Kuwajima took a bite out of his half-eaten peach, taking a moment to chew and swallow before answering. “Yeah, I understand that. Believe it or not, that’s one of the hardest parts of this training. Sounds simple enough when said out loud, but compared to other sword forms, it’s more about adapting a uniform technique into something new.”

Nezuko paused mid-bite, turning to the old man. “What does that mean? Like, it’s all the same move?”

“Not exactly. Sometimes it takes a while for people to notice, but the moves are not meant to be a bunch of wild tricks, different from one another.” The man gestured with his hand, balling it into a fist and then spreading his fingers out like they were trying to separate from his palm. “They build off of the four main components of what makes the breathing form, well, the breathing form and branch off by changing to address whatever obstacle may hinder them. We talked about the basics early on, remember?”

Nezuko nodded. Her mentor had gone over how thunder breathing was supported by four factors the individual could manipulate: how the initial stance was taken, the lunge forward, the drawing of the katana, and how much leg power went into the attack. They were something she constantly needed to be thinking about while she was facing her opponents, especially in regards to gauging her stamina and what she could still accomplish in the heat of a battle.

Kuwajima continued. “Well, in all honesty, that’s what goes into the basic form of the technique. It’s not like you’re starting from scratch every time you go to draw your sword. It’s just part of one move being repeatedly used and tweaked.”

“One move…” Nezuko whispered to herself, staring at her peach and watching the nectar drip from the exposed fruit.

One move being repeatedly used and tweaked…

Her mind went back to her fights with Zenitsu, at how the blond boy was always able to parry and dodge her attacks before delivering one of his own. She felt like she was always having to think several steps ahead, planning out her attack and how she was going to cycle through the motions. But Zenitsu acted as though his movements were second nature, something thought-through and quickly fixed no matter what position he was in.

Position…

Wait a minute.

She never noticed it before, but now, finally relaxed and sitting next to her mentor as he reexplained the concept she thought she had understood the first time, a certain moment became crystal clear.

Nezuko attempted to lunge forward and deliver five slashes at Zenitsu, but he jumped back at the last minute, lingering only a second before sliding a foot back, unsheathing his wooden sword, and lunging right at Nezuko.

She lost her balance a bit from the missed attack, and was barely able to sidestep the lightning-fast attack, only for the boy to pivot at her former spot and materialize right in front of her. She yelped and he knocked her sword out of her hand as thunder boomed in the background, leaving her hand tingling.

“Crap! Sorry sorry!” Zenitsu squeaked. He shook his head, thankfully in one of his good headspaces today, and took a step back to give her space. “I didn’t take your hand off, did I?”

“No, you’re fine,” Nezuko shook her hand out to get the feeling of bugs crawling under her skin to go away. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming. You’re really good at this!”

The boy shook his head and turned away. “I-I don’t know about that. I mean, I’m just doing the same thing every time. That's all I can do, and sometimes I even think you do it better than me.”

The same thing every time…

Nezuko’s eyes widened.

That move…this whole time, she was never paying attention to what he meant by that, and just assumed he was referring to the way he set up his move. But no, it was the move itself.

More specifically…

“The first form.”

Kuwajima smiled. “Now you get it.”

Nezuko stood up, still clutching her peach, and turned toward the older man. “The other forms are just different versions of the first form! They’re not set up any differently; it’s just changing how the final attack is delivered!”

“Exactly,” the man said, nodding. “Which means if you master one—”

“I can do all of them without needing to waste time,” Nezuko finished.

Now everything was making more sense. The second form and sixth forms involved adding extra strikes once the user reached their target. The third had the user stopping and creating a spin attack. The fourth was just going back and forth to keep distance from the target, and the fifth had an upward strike.

They all weren’t just separate ideas; they were connected, built up in one move and making it work against any situation she was up against.

“Wow, I…can’t believe I missed that.”

Kuwajima chuckled, having finished his peach and now holding the small pit. He moved over a little and began digging a small hole in the dark soil. “It’s hard to understand it unless you take a step back. Besides, the real strength comes from when you’re able to utilize total concentration breathing with them.”

Nezuko joined him once again, taking another bite out of her peach as she watched him work. There was a strong sweetness to it that lingered on her tongue. “Oh yeah, I remember.”

Earlier that day, Nezuko had asked Zenitsu about total concentration breathing while they were weaving flowers into small crowns. The boy was smiling to himself as he worked, and for once, he didn’t stutter around an answer or whine about it being difficult to explain.

“Gramps said it’s supposed to make your blood circulate faster, and that’s because your heart’s beating faster. It heats up your body temperature and gives you a huge boost of strength to kill demons.” The boy frowned, then grimaced as he tied some of the thicker stems together. “That’s why you’re supposed to focus on your breathing a lot, to expand your lung capacity and get your blood and bones and muscles excited to fight.”

Nezuko carefully finished weaving in her flowers, lifting up her crown of white clover and dandelions with a few pink peach tree petals tucked in. “That doesn’t really make sense.”

“I know, right?!” Zenitsu groaned, putting his crown of different colored wildflowers on his head. He looked cute despite being very clearly annoyed. “There’s no way that’s true! I think it’s a cruel joke from Gramps that’s supposed to make us think breathing is this big complicated task when it’s not. It’s just dumb!”

“I guess all I can do at this point is keep trying until I see if it works,” Nezuko mused, following Zenitsu’s lead and putting her own crown on. The boy beamed at her, and the two dissolved into giggles as the sweet air blew by, scattering petals and their joy into the wind.

“Oi, what are you smiling at?”

Nezuko blinked and realized she had been staring at her nearly finished peach for a while. She felt Kuwajima’s stare on her, prompting the girl to quickly finish the rest of the fruit and wipe her face of any lingering juices (and definitely not checking if there was blush creeping on her face again).

“Uh, it was nothing, sir! Just…thinking about what you said.”

“Nothing I say should be eliciting that kind of reaction from you,” Kuwajima replied flatly. “Well, either way, it’s not going to be easy, so don’t be thinking that you can slack off your training because of that.”

“I won’t!” Nezuko retorted. She looked down at her peach pit, and suddenly felt a pit of her own grow in her stomach. “I know it won’t be easy. And I might not make it, but I have to try.”

Because that was all she could do at this point, right? That itself was easier said than done, and in all honesty, it wasn’t helping the barely contained anxiety from beginning to creep its way back into her head.

Two months…it really wasn’t a lot of time, and as much as the break was appreciated, she kept praying for some miracle to give her a little more time. That would never happen, not now and with everything, but it didn’t hurt to still hope a bit.

And maybe it was better than letting her fears get the better of her and drive her to fall into the despair she felt when she was burning out and injuring her foot.

“Nothing says you have to be sufficient in every form, you know.”

Nezuko looked back up at Kuwajima. “I don’t?”

He shook his head, then held out his hand. Assuming he wanted her peach pit, Nezuko handed the small seed over and watched as her mentor dug another hole next to his.

“A seed doesn’t just burst from the ground overnight as a tree; it needs time and nurturing so it can sprout. And from there, you continue to care for it until it grows bigger, eventually turning into a tree. From there, it will grow leaves, then flowers, and then bear fruit.” Kuwajima placed the pit in the small hole and then smoothed soil over it with ease. “But only judging a tree’s worth by whether or not it can grow flowers or fruit from the moment it bursts from the ground is idiotic. Some trees can’t grow them right away, but that doesn't mean they don’t have the potential to grow later.”

Kuwajima finished smoothing over the soil, Nezuko watching closely in silent awe. He then gave her one of his signature sharp grins. “Don’t despair if you can’t learn everything all at once, no one expects perfection. Celebrate the little things, like sprouting from the surface or perfecting one form. Mastering even just one thing can make a world of difference and is worth any person with common sense’s approval.”

Nezuko stared at the dirt mounds, imagining them growing into large peach trees despite the odds against them and their survival. Like her, they had everything against them, and not a lot to be gained from someone praising their tiny bits of growth.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth celebrating, now did it?

Nezuko found herself laughing and sitting back on her knees. “What happened to not teaching me anything else?” she teased, smirking.

The grin dropped and the old man rolled his eyes. “I was going to let you struggle with it a little longer, but I figured you've put yourself through the wringer enough. Besides, sometimes we just need a bit of new perspective to reach a full understanding. If I can give you that little nudge to see that, then why should I be holding anything back?”

“Y-You just needed a bit of perspective, you know? I’m sure you would have figured it out.”

Huh…interesting.

“Come, let’s head inside before it gets too dark.” Kuwajima patted her shoulder before getting up and offering the girl a hand. Nezuko took it and followed her mentor, but kept thinking back to the peach seeds buried in the dirt.

Perhaps all she really needed was a bit more perspective.

Two months before Final Selection, Nezuko went back to training.

Kuwajima warned her to start small and slowly work her way back up to her former strength, and not wanting to take any more risks, Nezuko listened. She gradually started adding more exercises to her workout and increased her running by one or two laps every day. It was rough, and a little disheartening how she wasn’t able to bounce back like she hoped, but progress was still progress, and her mentor’s words from that night kept coming back to her: there was nothing wrong with celebrating the little things.

And when Nezuko decided she was finally ready to start sparring again with Zenitsu, she only focused on perfecting the first form.

It wasn’t as though she stopped practicing the other five forms entirely; she just put almost all of her energy into working on the first form, using it exclusively when fighting Zenitsu. It helped that she was observing the boy’s movements more closely, recognizing patterns in his fighting style and seeing the different ways of fighting she could adapt into the form now that she wasn’t constantly trying to come up with new strategies on the spot against an opponent.

The strangest part about it had to be the limited complaints that came from Zenitsu.

The boy didn’t whine or try to convince Nezuko that they should take frequent breaks anymore. He wasn’t being closed off like some of those other times and still made sure to ask Nezuko if she was okay when taking a particularly hard hit. Something about him was just…different.

Almost like he sensed the importance of Nezuko’s time and where it needed to go. Like he understood what needed to get done and would do whatever it took to help her reach her goal.

Nezuko couldn’t have been more grateful.

Dear Tanjiro,

I hope one day you get to meet Zenitsu.

Maybe not now, but maybe another time…

Nezuko and Zenitsu lay on the soft grass of the hidden section of the orchard. The sound of insects singing and trees whispering surrounded them as they stared up at the sky, alight with hundreds of stars. It was a peaceful, cool night where they were just talking like they did at the beginning of Nezuko’s injury recovery.

It just so happened that they were talking about Kuwajima.

“It took me forever to figure out that he had really good hearing and that’s why he was able to fight me blindfolded.” Nezuko rubbed her elbow and winced at the memory, remembering the pain from falling down constantly. “It didn’t help that I never got that good at falling.”

Zenitsu hummed. “Yeah, one time he made me run with rocks tied around my ankles for like five hours. It was torture, and I could barely walk afterwards, but he still made me help him pick peaches from the tallest trees. I fell through the branches a lot and almost landed on my head several times.”

“Oh, I remember the ankle rocks. He has me use those for lunging training.”

“Ugh, I think that might actually be worse. How did you not break your ankles earlier?”

“I didn’t break them and I was literally running myself ragged, so I think we can excuse Master on that.”

“Alright, if you say so, Nezuko.”

The two lapsed into silence after that. Nezuko had her eyes closed, taking in the sounds and smells surrounding them. It was a peace that she knew wouldn’t last long, one that she might not get to experience again depending on how Final Selection went. She wanted to cherish this time as much as she could, with the people she cared about most.

And tonight, that was Zenitsu.

“You know, I never really understood Gramps.” The blond boy pillowed his head on his hands as he spoke. “He was always hitting me with his cane and yelling at me to do my best when I literally had no talent. I don’t get what he saw in me, but he was always really nice and didn’t give up on me, even when I tried running away.”

“I think that’s just the way he cares about people.” Nezuko folded her hands over her stomach, taking a moment to open her eyes and trace over the hundreds of little lights above them despite not knowing any of the constellations. “I always get a bit of a sense that he does want what’s best for us, and he seems happy whenever we succeed.”

Zenitsu smiled. “Yeah, I think you’re right. I can always hear a happy sound coming from him when I finally did something right in training, or when I don’t run away immediately after he explains how painful something is going to be.”

Nezuko tilted her head a little and observed how at peace the normally anxiety-ridden boy was. His amber eyes almost seemed to glow in the moonlight. Everything about him felt right and content for once, and it felt wrong to ruin it.

But she still had a question she needed him to answer.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Zenitsu glanced at her, then looked back up at the night sky. “Sure.”

She waited a few moments, figuring out what words to use to avoid him having a negative reaction like the first time or just shutting down. But eventually, Nezuko mustered up the courage to turn her head and asked the boy her burning question. “How come Master never mentioned you before?”

The happiness vanished from his face, replaced with something that looked like fear and sadness.

“Oh, you don’t have to answer! Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I think…I make him sad.”

The words died in Nezuko’s throat. “What?”

Something steeled over Zenitsu’s expression, but he didn’t seem angry or bothered like last time. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, moving his hands so they lay on either side of him. “I think Gramps doesn’t like getting attached, and when he does, it hurts when something happens to us.”

What does that mean? He makes it sound like something bad happened to him.

“What…happened?”

Zenitsu shook his head. “Some bad stuff happened and…I think he blames himself.”

Nezuko frowned, not sure whether or not she should push to learn more. But then the boy tilted his head to the side so she couldn’t see his expression. When he spoke, it was more subdued than she was used to and would have never imagined it belonging to such a lively and emotional person like Zenitsu.

“It wasn’t Gramps’s fault, I don’t think it was anyone’s really. I mean, I was being reckless and just wanted to protect my family. I tried to convince them to leave us alone, so that the three of us could just stay safe and out of their way, but they…wanted something, and weren’t leaving without it. I think…they got what they wanted.”

The three of us…

Could he mean…

“Is Kaigaku okay?”

Nezuko startled at that, hardly believing her ears. “You know him?”

Zenitsu didn’t answer, but then started talking again like he hadn’t heard her. “He always sounded angry, like, he had this box of happiness inside him that kept leaking and he didn’t know how to fix it. I kind of hated him, because he never treated me like I was someone the same as him. And he hated me right back, but…I didn’t want him to die, or to do something bad.”

“Bad?” Nezuko found herself echoing. “Bad like what?”

Another bout of silence. Zenitsu just shook his head and turned back to stare up above, his expression neutral and his eyes closed.

“I just can’t see Gramps anymore. That’s just the way things are now. And nothing can change that.”

Nezuko wanted to argue with the boy. That surely he could see Kuwajima and get proven wrong in the form of a few choice words and maybe a tap of the old man’s cane. She didn’t need to hear the Kuwajima admit to knowing the boy to be certain that Zenitsu would be welcomed back with open arms to an old man that hid his affection for his students behind a stern glare and slightly crazed enthusiasm.

She wished more than anything in that moment to just understand why it seemed this family would remain broken when its heart and soul was right laying next to her.

“Nezuko, when you come back from Final Selection, I don’t think I’m going to be here anymore.”

…Huh?

That alarmed the girl and she tried not to let it show on her face as she sat up. “What are you talking about? Are you leaving?”

“Maybe? I don’t know.” Zenitsu opened his eyes, pain and grief and other emotions she couldn’t understand at the moment swimming in their glassy sheen. “I think I just know. I won’t be here anymore, and I’ll miss you guys so much.”

Nezuko shook her head. “B-But why?”

Zenitsu stared up at the sky, and his voice shook as he failed at keeping his tone even. “Because I’ll have no reason to stay here anymore, and then I’ll wake up, and…I don’t want to wake up, not this time.”

He threw an arm over his face, using his sleeve to wipe away his tears as his shoulders started to shake. Nezuko couldn’t help but feel how different this was from the Zenitsu she knew. This one, this boy at her side, desperately trying not to fall apart and scared of something it seemed even he didn’t fully understand, was so young. And there was a great pain that he must be suffering from, and would continue to suffer from.

This wasn’t fair. Not fair for someone like Zenitsu.

“Zenitsu?” Nezuko called softly. The boy lowered his arm and peered up at her through puffy eyes. “Zenitsu, please, can I...is there anything I can do?”

Zenitsu’s eyes widened, and more tears gathered as he opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say for a second.

“Can I…” the boy trailed off, staring at her hand buried in the grass, reaching at it before redrawing his hands, clutching his own yukata so tight it would’ve ripped.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” Nezuko asked softly, her voice carrying the warmth she once used to soothe her younger siblings. It was the same gentleness that she reserved for Tanjiro on those days when past memories clawed their way back, leaving him lost in the cold.

Zenitsu’s nod was barely perceptible, a tiny, hesitant motion. Nezuko reclined back onto the cool grass, extending her hand towards him. She watched as he slowly reached out, only to stop inches away, the space between their hands feeling like an unbridgeable chasm.

She wanted to urge him to whisper words of encouragement, but deep down, she knew. This was as far as Zenitsu could go. No matter how much she willed it otherwise, nothing could change that.

So Zenitsu turned his gaze back to the expansive, star-filled sky, and Nezuko followed suit. They lay there in silence, neither of them daring to break the fragile peace of the night.

As Zenitsu’s sniffling turned into quiet sobs, different from his usual theatrics, Nezuko held back her own tears. She imagined his hand in hers, offering the comfort he couldn't accept.

Maybe, in another life, they had meant something more to each other. But here and now, Zenitsu Agatsuma remained the boy whose hand was forever just out of her reach.

Dear Tanjiro,

I did it.

I finally did it...

Nezuko and Zenitsu stood facing each other on the desolate lightning field. The gray sky above rumbled ominously, as if sensing the gravity of the duel about to unfold.

After two grueling years of training, sparring, and mastering every aspect of thunder breathing, Nezuko knew she was ready. Today, she had to defeat Zenitsu—no excuses, no holding back.

But this time, even from a distance, Nezuko saw that Zenitsu's sword was real.

A dry wind swept through, lifting strands of Nezuko’s waist-length hair and revealing Zenitsu’s closed eyes as his bangs were brushed aside.

Mirror images of each other, they both gripped their swords, sliding their left foot out in perfect unison. Nezuko bent her right knee just as Zenitsu did, partially drawing their katanas to reveal the shimmering silver and gold patterns.

The world fell silent, the tension palpable.

Nezuko inhaled deeply, feeling the oxygen energize every cell in her body. Strength surged through her muscles, making her feel invincible, ready to strike.

This time, she was determined to win.

Silence...

Silence...

Silence...

And—

BOOM!

In a blinding flash of pink and yellow, the duel ended in an instant.

Nezuko stood where Zenitsu had been and swiftly sheathed her sword. Her entire right arm tingles with numbness, her lungs burned as she gasped for breath.

She turned around.

Zenitsu stood motionless, only halfway to where Nezuko had stood. His hand was empty, his sword several feet behind him, buried in the hard dirt, a glowing beacon in the field of nothingness.

Nezuko had knocked Zenitsu’s sword right out of his hand before he could even swing it. She had won.

Slowly, Zenitsu straightened to his full height. His empty hand clenched into a shaky fist before relaxing by his side. He faced Nezuko with a look of pride and a melancholy smile.

For some reason, it made Nezuko want to cry.

“Hey, Nezuko?”

She forced a shuddering breath. “Y-Yeah?”

Zenitsu nodded at her, stepping back without losing that smile. “Don’t hesitate to strike, okay? That jerk has nothing on you, so be sure to win. I believe in you, Nezuko.”

BOOM!

A strike of lightning hit between them, blinding Nezuko and forcing her to stumble back. When she opened her eyes, Zenitsu was gone.

And so was his sword.

She barely had time to question where they had gone when she saw what lay on the ground where the sword had been. She gasped, her own blade slipping from her fingers.

At the spot where Zenitsu’s blade had dug into the hard ground, a white pattern had exploded forward, resembling a tree blown by a strong wind. It was a white Lichtenberg figure, as if someone had deflected a bolt of lightning and controlled its path.

“Holy shit.”

Nezuko whirled around to find Kuwajima staring at the spot where Zenitsu’s sword had been, eyes wide in disbelief. He ambled forward, stopping by Nezuko, as amazed as when she had told him about drop-kicking the demon head all that time ago.

“Young lady…you did it.”

Nezuko blinked, still gasping, her arm jittery. “Wait, I…Does that mean–”

“Yes.” Kuwajima chuckled, his laughter evolving into a hearty roar that echoed through the lightning field. “Yes, yes, you’re ready for Final Selection!”

I did it….

I DID IT!

Nezuko found herself joining her mentor’s boisterous laughter. Happiness, exhaustion, and excitement surged through her like a high she had never experienced before.

It was amazing, it was so freaking amazing!

It…It…

It left her suddenly sobbing on her knees. Kuwajima held her tightly as she wailed, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions, but so happy she had finally succeeded.

Two years…After two years, she had managed the impossible. It made everything worth it.

“I believe in you, Nezuko.”

Almost everything.

“I’ll admit, I was a little worried at one point,” Kuwajima rumbled, rubbing Nezuko’s back and not minding that her tears stained his jinbei. “But look at you now. You made it. I’m so proud of you, kid.”

Nezuko could only nod, too overwhelmed to promise she’d return and not waste everything she’d learned. But her mentor seemed to understand and lightly bonked her on the head.

“You better come back, you hear me? Because if you die, I’ll drag you out of the afterlife myself just to beat you with my cane. This old man can’t take any more losses.”