Catlady Writer

Read from Left to Right:

Hey guys, this is a comic adaptation of a scene from my Inotan fic Kisses for an Idiot, illustrated by the talented ReName_重名君. It’s set 2 years after the main story ends. Tanjirou and Inosuke are 17 years old. They work in the Wisteria Garden, an eatery that the Kamados have just inherited from their neighbour. Tanjirou is the head chef, sometimes assisted by Nezuko, while Inosuke and Zenitsu work in the front of house. Inosuke doesn’t wear his boar mask, allowing him to kiss Tanjirou whenever he pleases after being under the impression that they're dating.

Words cannot express how happy I am that the wonderful Rename_重名君 sensei would indulge my headcanon and fantasies once again with her beautiful beautiful art style!

I will always have a weakness for kabedon and I bet Inosuke likes it too because it lets him assert dominance easily despite not being taller than Tanjirou lmao

If you enjoyed this, please reblog it if you can! Comments are very welcome, but if you're shy, you can leave anonymous ones on my AO3.

This story takes place a few years after the events of the main series, with Inosuke and Tanjirou being 20 years old in this fic. As part of the Series: Where the Wisteria Always Bloom, it was originally intended to come after a fic about their first time together and another about their wedding. But I ended up finishing this one first, and couldn’t wait months to post it, so I decided to post it out of order! Rest assured, the other stories are still planned, and you can still enjoy this as a standalone fic.

Warning: This story takes a more mature and intense direction from my usual work. It contains graphic descriptions of sex and explores the complexities of intimacy, including arousal, fear, thrills and vulnerability, that arise from having sex in a semi-public setting. If you have been following this series but feel uncomfortable reading works with sexual content, please know that you can skip this story without missing anything.

By the way, if you'd like a little help visualizing an older Inosuke and Tanjirou, this fanart depicts them with a more mature look than in canon.

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The crimson glow of sunset painted the Gion district in a warm embrace as Tanjirou and Inosuke strolled hand-in-hand, the vibrant energy of Kyoto pulsating around them. Their honeymoon, a long-awaited reward after months of wedding planning pandemonium, had finally arrived. Stepping away from the familiar warmth of the Wisteria Garden, the newlyweds ventured into the heart of a thriving summer festival. 

Clad in festive yukata, freshly rented from their inn, they presented a contrasting picture. Tanjirou wore his with a touch of simple elegance, the fabric flowing smoothly around his frame. As usual, Inosuke preferred to go shirtless. His yukata sleeves draped over his fluffy deer fur belt, which he'd insisted on layering over the obi belt, earning a disapproving look from the innkeeper.

The air crackled with excitement as the chaos of the celebration washed over them – a joyous cacophony of music and laughter. Food stalls overflowed with tantalising aromas, a dazzling array of colours promising a feast for the eyes and the stomach.

Tanjirou's eyes sparkled with excitement. They'd had a blast playing games earlier, winning a bounty of toys for Nezuko back home. Now, his gaze flitted from skewered yakitori to fluffy takoyaki with the enthusiasm of a child in a candy store. He excitedly explained each dish to Inosuke, both of them digging into their chosen treats with contented murmurs. Every now and then, Tanjirou held out a piece of his takoyaki, a glint of adoration in his eyes. Inosuke happily took a bite, the shared treat bringing a blush to their cheeks and a grin to their lips.

They would erupt in shared laughter over some of the more outlandish offerings that they couldn’t understand, lamenting the absence of their resident city boy Zenitsu, who was back home with Nezuko, managing the Wisteria Garden, having gone for their own honeymoon prior. 

"I'm definitely not eating that," Tanjirou winced at a mountain of vibrantly green shaved ice topped with a dollop of what smelt like wasabi, "but I do wonder if Zenitsu's ever had it."

"Had it?" Inosuke scoffed. "Bet he fainted just looking at it! Imagine the tears and whines if he actually ate it!"

And they both burst into laughter together.

"Huh? What's going on over there?" Inosuke said, his attention snagged by a sudden flurry of movement on the stage. He wrapped a protective arm around Tanjirou’s shoulder, steering him closer to the stage. A booming taiko performance pulsed through the air. 

Initially, Inosuke mirrored Tanjirou's infectious enthusiasm. His boisterous laughter echoed over the festival's din, a playful counterpoint to the rhythmic thunder of the drums. But as the crowd around them began to swell, a subtle shift occurred. His bright eyes, usually alight with excitement, darted nervously around the ever-tightening throng. The hand on Tanjirou’s shoulder, at first relaxed, tightened into a white-knuckled grip. Reaching out with his other hand, he grasped Tanjirou's yukata sleeve.

Tanjirou recognized the telltale signs of his lover's growing unease. With a gentle tug, he steered Inosuke away from the teeming heart of the festival, weaving through the throngs of people until they found a quiet refuge in a dimly lit alley. Here, the clamour of the festival was a muffled echo, replaced by the comforting hum of the city at night. 

Inosuke, when overwhelmed, often craved a release of a different kind. Usually, it was a frenetic dash through the woods, a chance to channel his excess energy and clear his head. But here, with Tanjirou by his side, the intensity he sought wasn't a physical one. At least, not in that sense.

Tanjirou gently wrapped his arms around Inosuke, pulling him into a warm embrace. Inosuke, initially tense, melted into comforting hold. Tanjirou's hand moved to stroke Inosuke's back in a slow, soothing rhythm. The rapid rise and fall of Inosuke's chest gradually calmed, his breaths becoming deeper and more even.

The world around them seemed to fade away as Tanjirou focused on the steady beat of his own heart against his chest. In that quiet space, a warmth bloomed within Inosuke, a shift Tanjirou sensed more than saw. He lifted his head, his gaze locking with Inosuke's. A flicker of something new sparked in Inosuke's eyes – a mix of desire and a question unspoken. He leaned in, his breath hot and inviting against Tanjirou's lips.

A flicker of concern crossed Tanjirou's face. "Here?" he murmured, a tremor of uncertainty in his voice. "Someone might see us."

Inosuke's eyes held a simmering intensity now. He cupped Tanjirou's face, his grip firm yet gentle. "They won’t," he declared.

Before another objection could escape Tanjirou's lips, Inosuke pulled him close, pressing him against the rough brick wall. Their lips met in a kiss that was both familiar and exhilarating. Tanjirou's initial surprise dissolved into a smile. A little kissing wouldn’t hurt, he supposed. He leaned into the kiss, their lips moving in a familiar dance fueled by a quiet wanting that had blossomed throughout the night. 

Inosuke's kiss deepened, his touch lingering on Tanjirou's lips in a way that sent a delicious shiver down his core. But the urgency in Inosuke's movements shifted. His hands, once content to caress Tanjirou's face, began to roam with a newfound purpose. One hand slipped possessively around Tanjirou's waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The other, with a swiftness that startled Tanjirou, reached behind his knee. A forceful tug sent the fabric of his yukata bunching upwards. The familiar weight of the garment lessened, a cool draft replacing its warmth against his legs.

Tanjirou gasped in surprise. "Whoa there, Inosuke," he chuckled, interpreting Inosuke's sudden manoeuvre as mere clumsiness. "Maybe slow down a little? We don't want to get tangled up in my clothes, do we?"

The hungry glint in Inosuke's eyes, however, didn't falter. Instead, it intensified with a flicker of something possessive. Before Tanjirou could fully register the shift, Inosuke's hand, still tangled with the loosened yukata fabric, snagged on the sash for a moment. With a frustrated snort, he abandoned the sash altogether and shoved the yukata upwards with a rough push. The fabric, bunched up further, exposing a significant stretch of Tanjirou's legs.

Tanjirou's mind lurched to a halt. The playful banter died on his lips, replaced by a blush that crept up his neck. His eyes widened as understanding dawned on him, slow and disbelieving at first. 

A thrill lanced through him as Inosuke's hand grazed the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, sparking in him a confusing mix of shock and a burgeoning awareness. But the playful touch quickly escalated. Tanjirou let out a sharp gasp as Inosuke's hand ventured far beyond a stray caress. A searing heat flared where it slipped past his underwear, igniting a spark deep within him. A strangled cry escaped his lips as Inosuke's fingers delved deeper.

"I... Inosuke?" he stammered. The question hung heavy in the air, a formality both unnecessary and slightly comical under the circumstances. Tanjirou's keen sense of smell had already picked up on the raw hunger radiating from his husband. Inosuke, it seemed, was far past the point of discussion.

"Inosuke," he stammered, urgency lacing his words, "not here… we need to get back to the inn... somewhere private..."

He fumbled with his yukata, trying to pull it back down, but Inosuke snatched the fabric with a firm grip, preventing him from doing so.

Inosuke's fiery gaze held Tanjirou captive. "Later's out of the question," he growled. "I want you now."

A sharp breath hitched in Tanjirou's chest as Inosuke's hand continued its relentless exploration. "Inosuke, stop!" he pleaded, pushing weakly against the insistent touch that delved deeper. "This is a public place..."

Inosuke scoffed. "There's no one here, already checked with my spatial awareness."

"But... someone could come along later..."

Inosuke's response was a guttural grunt, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment. "So what?" he challenged, his eyes blazing with a hunger that left no room for argument. Tanjirou couldn't help but wonder if Inosuke even considered the consequences.

"You know I won't stop once I start," Inosuke declared, his voice thick with raw desire. "Like the wild boar I am."

But of course. Tanjirou had witnessed this wild boar side of Inosuke countless times before – a relentless force when his desires took hold. He felt a tremor course through him, a mix of apprehension and a forbidden thrill.

Recognising that resistance was futile, a reckless decision bloomed in Tanjirou's mind. "Alright, Inosuke," he gritted out. "I'll do what you want. But we have to be quick about it."

Inosuke, caught off guard by the sudden surrender, loosened his grip for a fleeting moment. Tanjirou seized the opportunity, pulling away and quickly adjusting his dishevelled yukata. A wave of relief washed over him as he regained a sense of modesty, even if it was only temporary. 

"Clothes must stay on.” Tanjirou continued, voice regaining some firmness. “In case someone walks in on us, we can make a quick escape. But don’t stain anything. We still have to return these yukata to the inn…”

Inosuke bristled. "Seems like a lot to remember." Impatience flickered in his eyes.

Tanjirou met his gaze, a spark of defiance igniting within him. "Then pay attention. Do you still want this or not?" he snapped back.

Inosuke huffed in concession. "Fine, fine. Anything else?"

"And," he blurted out, voice dropping to a nervous whisper, "you mustn't come inside me."

The thought of returning to their inn after this, carrying the weight of Inosuke's release within him, sent a blush scorching across Tanjirou's face. His brain conjured a mental image of a literal walk of shame. 

Inosuke's brow furrowed in confusion. "Huh? But why? I always do."

The blush on Tanjirou's face deepened to a crimson. "I-It's not that I don't want it," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "It's just... the walk back... I wouldn't be able to hold it in, and it would leak out. It would be... embarrassing.”

Tanjirou wondered if Inosuke would empathise, considering that he never had to experience it himself. Fortunately, Inosuke seemed to pick up on Tanjirou’s distress and did not press further, merely saying, “Oh. So where, then?”

Good question. Panic surged through Tanjirou again as he considered his limited options. Certainly not here, in this grimy alley. His mind raced, picturing the horrified expression of the poor cleaner who might stumble upon their indiscretion. Besides, if someone had witnessed them enter the alley, any physical evidence would be a damning confirmation. He needed a solution, fast.

"In... in my mouth," he blurted out, his face flaming. "When you feel yourself getting close, pull out and…" Shame choked the rest of the instructions. 

Inosuke's initial surprise gave way to understanding. He gave a sharp nod, tightening his grip on Tanjirou as a silent promise.

A wave of relief washed over Tanjirou, laced with a thrill of forbidden anticipation. His fingers trembled slightly as he loosened his obi, allowing the yukata to hang more loosely around his legs. With typical disregard, Inosuke undid and tossed his own fur belt and obi aside. They landed with a soft thud on their bag of festival trinkets, leaving his yukata to slip down and pool around his ankles.

"I said clothes must stay on!" Tanjirou hissed, catching his yukata. He tugged it over Inosuke’s shoulders, urging him to slip his arms through the sleeves. Inosuke grumbled his disapproval of the constricting garment as it was forced over his broad chest. The yukata gaped open in the front without the belt to secure it. Fabric rustled as they shed their undergarments. 

Tanjirou peeled back his own yukata with deliberate care, exposing only what was necessary for Inosuke's access. Shame burned in his throat. This wasn't their idyllic summer festival date as he'd imagined, but with the raw desire radiating from Inosuke, Tanjirou felt powerless to resist.

He was secretly thankful for his decision to wear a dark-colored yukata. It could, with careful manipulation, conceal the evidence of their encounter. A damp patch, barely noticeable under the cover of night, would be the only trace of their stolen intimacy. This hidden secret, a memory tucked away in the folds of the starlit night, was theirs alone.

Of course, he wouldn't dream of returning the soiled yukata to the inn. The thought of some unsuspecting customer receiving the stained garment was not only inconsiderate but downright disrespectful. He wouldn't be a party to such an unfortunate situation. No, after they were finished, he'd discreetly purchase the yukata from the innkeeper. It was a small price to pay for their discreet indulgence.

Inosuke wasted no time. His fingers plunged between Tanjirou's legs, urgent and demanding. Tanjirou's back arched against the brick wall, a sharp intake of breath escaping his lips. They had already indulged in passionate lovemaking back at their inn, eliminating the need for lengthy foreplay. The single thought that echoed in Tanjirou's mind was clear: quick, quick, quick.

As Inosuke's skilled touch continued, waves of anxiety and raw arousal crashed over Tanjirou. He squeezed his eyes shut, a strangled whimper slipping past his lips despite his attempts to stay silent. Pleasure surged with each deliberate touch, threatening to consume him entirely. Then, with a swift and powerful thrust, Inosuke pressed into him, their bodies melding together in a scorching union.

Tanjirou instinctively wrapped his arms around Inosuke's neck, seeking comfort and a semblance of control. His forehead found solace in the crook of Inosuke's shoulder, muffling his whimper. Inosuke shifted, one hand braced against the wall for support, while the other found its place on the small of Tanjirou's back.

Inosuke's thrusts, though forceful and purposeful, were restricted by their close proximity. Each withdrawal felt tantalizingly brief, teasing and intensifying the burning desire that consumed them both.

"Damn," Inosuke growled, frustration and raw need lacing his voice. He pressed his hips harder against Tanjirou's, grinding their lower bodies together in a way that sent waves of exquisite pleasure coursing through them. He dipped his head, nipping at Tanjirou's exposed neck with a roughness that ignited a line of fire across his skin.

A primal thrill surged through Tanjirou, sharp and raw. Ragged gasps, hot against Inosuke's neck, punctuated each thrust. Despite his efforts to remain silent, strangled moans escaped his lips. Being taken like this, in the dark and public alleyway, added a forbidden edge to their pleasure. Yet, a sliver of worry snaked through his arousal, the muffled sounds of the city outside serving as a constant reminder of their vulnerability.

His usually keen sense of smell was useless here, drowned out by the musk of Inosuke's arousal and the intoxicating scent of their illicit lovemaking. If anyone were to enter the alleyway, he wouldn't even smell them coming. Panic gnawed at him with every distant rustle, every flicker of light. They needed to finish. Now.

With a surge of nervous energy, Tanjirou arched his back and lifted one leg, wrapping it high around Inosuke's hip. 

"Hurry, Inosuke!" Tanjirou yelped, a plea laced with desperation. "Someone might be coming!"

Inosuke's grunt of approval was followed by a firm grip beneath Tanjirou’s thigh. With a swift movement, Inosuke hoisted Tanjirou’s thigh even higher, and Tanjirou found himself exposed in a way he hadn't anticipated. A jolt of heat shot through him, leaving him breathless.

The new position was a revelation. With one leg slung high, Inosuke could plunge deeper than before. Tanjirou’s body, tense with anxiety, arched involuntarily against the intrusion, a gasp muffled by Inosuke's shoulder. Each thrust, rough, deliberate, and shockingly deep, sent a jolt of unexpected pleasure through him.

Whimpers escaped Tanjirou’s lips with every intrusion. He wanted this to end, the fear of discovery gnawing at his gut. Yet, with each agonising moment, the pleasure intensified. 

Tanjirou dug his fingers into Inosuke's hair, the soft strands a fleeting comfort against the storm raging within him. He yearned to scream, to surrender to the pleasure, but terror of being heard, being discovered, held him captive. A strangled moan ripped from his throat, a sound teetering between pain and ecstasy. 

"Inosuke, slower," he choked out, his voice a raw blend of pleasure and desperation.

"Hurry is what you said," Inosuke growled, his voice ragged with his own rising desire. He complied slightly, but his thrusts continued deeply, sending shivers of ecstasy dancing down Tanjirou’s spine. 

"Almost there," Inosuke barked, a triumphant edge clawing into his voice. He surged into Tanjirou with a forceful thrust, deeper and more demanding.  Tanjirou's body convulsed, a strangled cry erupting from his throat. The pleasure was a tightrope walk, a thrilling dance on a razor's edge. He clung to Inosuke, his body trembling from the intensity.

Just as Tanjirou felt himself teetering on the precipice, a drunken laugh echoed through the alleyway, sending a surge of paralyzing dread through him. 

"Inosuke! People!" Tanjirou choked out, his voice a strangled whisper. "Stop! Pull out, now!"

"Not yet!" Inosuke snarled, his defiance a stark contrast to Tanjirou's blinding panic. The unexpected resistance left Tanjirou momentarily stunned, unsure of how to proceed.

Five drunken figures stumbled into the alleyway, their laughter echoing off the brick walls. The stench of sake hung heavy in the air. Maybe, just maybe, they would pass without noticing them.

A desperate plan sparked in Tanjirou's mind. "Don't move," he hissed, yanking Inosuke closer. He lunged forward, his kiss urgent, a silent plea for cooperation veiled by a sudden surge of passion. In the dim light, they might pass for a lovesick couple lost in a drunken embrace. It was a desperate gamble, a last-ditch effort to cloak the truth simmering beneath their clothing.

For a glorious, heart-stopping moment, it seemed to work. Inosuke, momentarily distracted by the unexpected kiss, faltered. His thrusts slowed, and he leaned into the kiss, passionate and eager.

Just as Tanjirou dared to breathe a sigh of relief, a new wave of panic surged through him. Inosuke, ever unpredictable, deepened the kiss with renewed fervour. His tongue explored Tanjirou's mouth with a newfound intensity, demanding and bold. This wasn't just a distraction anymore. It was a spark that had ignited a fire.

The shift in Inosuke's body sent a tremor through Tanjirou. The thrusts that had faltered earlier returned, this time with a renewed intensity that mirrored the deepening kiss. 

The boisterous laughter of the approaching group grew louder, bouncing off the brick walls with cruel mockery. Their drunken voices, once a distant hum, were now mere feet away. A fresh wave of blinding panic slammed into Tanjirou. His body, caught between intense pleasure and a heightened arousal, became a battleground. Each of Inosuke's movements sent a jolt through him, a strange mix of unwanted arousal and escalating fear. He felt the telltale tension building in Inosuke's thrusts, a tightening coil that mirrored the grip of fear squeezing his heart.

A sudden memory jolted him – his request to Inosuke earlier, would Inosuke forget about it? 

"Inosuke, hold back, please," he whimpered. "Don’t… Not inside..." 

"Then do I pull out now?!" Inosuke’s voice was a rough rasp against Tanjirou's ear.

"N…no!" Tanjirou choked out. "Wait..." But even as the plea escaped his lips, he knew it was a flimsy dam against the rising tide of Inosuke's urgency.

"Can't wait!" Inosuke hissed, frustration crackling in his voice like a dying fire. Tanjirou clenched his teeth, a silent scream trapped in his chest. The drunks lingered with agonising slowness, their laughter a cruel soundtrack to his growing despair. Any sudden movement, any sound louder than their ragged gasps, could shatter their precarious facade and draw the drunken men's unwanted attention.

"Now," Inosuke rasped, voice rough with urgency. His movements became frantic, a primal desperation fueling each forceful thrust. The dam within Tanjirou crumbled under the relentless assault. With a choked whisper of surrender, he whimpered, "Inside me."

The climax arrived with a shuddering release, Inosuke's muffled groan barely a whisper against Tanjirou's ear. A familiar surge of pleasure, intense and welcome, momentarily eclipsed his worries. Heat flared in his core, spreading outwards in waves as Inosuke trembled against him. 

Tanjirou sagged against the brick wall, chest heaving with exertion, his body shaky from the aftermath of the electrifying release. Inosuke remained pressed against him, the lingering warmth of their connection washing over him. The drunken men had finally stumbled away, but the alley felt too exposed, a stage waiting for another unwelcome spotlight.

Inosuke reluctantly pulled away, both of them panting heavily. A tense silence stretched between them, broken only by the fading echo of their ragged breaths. Adrenaline slowly bled away, replaced by a prickling awareness of their situation. Tanjirou could feel the damp warmth of Inosuke's release trickling down his thighs, a consequence he'd anticipated but failed to prevent. 

"We should get dressed," Tanjirou croaked, his voice hoarse. "There could be others." He reached for the gaping front of his yukata to pull it shut, desperately wanting to reclaim a sense of normalcy.

But Inosuke wasn’t finished. A feral growl rumbled in his chest, a sound both primal and possessive. Before Tanjirou could react, Inosuke’s arms shot under Tanjirou's thighs in a powerful heave. The world tilted as Inosuke lifted him clean off the ground, the yukata parting dramatically like a ripped stage curtain. Exposed and panting, Tanjirou found himself pinned against the rough brick wall, legs dangling uselessly by Inosuke's sides.

Inosuke tightened his grip, his arms wrapping around Tanjirou's thighs and hip. Tanjirou's back arched against the wall, his head thrown back in a mix of shock and a burgeoning heat that threatened to consume him. In this precarious position, Tanjirou was suspended entirely by Inosuke's strength, supported precariously by the hard brick against his back. His chest heaved with a sense of heightened vulnerability.

"Inosuke?!" The word tumbled out of Tanjirou, a mix of bewilderment and a yearning he couldn't quite place.

Inosuke's eyes glowed with predatory hunger. "One more time," he rasped, voice thick with need. "I’ll be quick, Tanjirou. Trust me."

Tanjirou's mind reeled. He wanted to protest, to remind Inosuke of the danger, but the words died in his throat, lost in the frantic pounding of his heart. 

"We were interrupted," Inosuke said, a touch of defensiveness in his voice, as though he were trying to justify his incredulous decision.

The new position – hips thrust outwards, legs held high and spread apart – offered an even deeper intimacy. Inosuke surged into Tanjirou, the deeper penetration a fresh jolt that momentarily eclipsed the gnawing anxiety. Sharp gasps tore from Tanjirou's lips, a mix of surprise, soreness, and a rising tide of pleasure that battled the constant threat of discovery. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around Inosuke's waist, seeking support and a sliver of comfort.

Low grunts erupted from Inosuke's chest with each forceful thrust, mirroring the heat blooming within Tanjirou. The frantic rasp of their yukata against skin added a raw edge of urgency and friction to their movements.

The constant threat of discovery loomed, a dark threat hanging over pleasure. With each forceful thrust, a surge of electric pleasure shot through him, a jarring counterpoint to the rising tide of panic in his chest. Could his body take another climax out here, especially with the risk of Inosuke finishing inside him again?

"It’s too risky!” He choked out. “Someone will see us!"

But Inosuke seemed deaf to his pleas, consumed by primal need. Frustration curdled in Tanjirou's gut alongside the fear.

A frantic scan of the alley revealed only faint moonlight and emptiness. Relief washed over him, a fleeting comfort against the knot of nerves in his stomach.

"Inosuke," he choked out against his shoulder, desperation lacing his voice. "We need to stop..." 

Still no response. The raw need within Tanjirou mirrored Inosuke's. His body arched instinctively with each thrust. A whimper escaped his lips despite his struggle for silence.

His mind raced. There was no other choice. They had to finish, and fast. "Inosuke, please," he pleaded, voice trembling. "Hurry... before someone comes..."

Inosuke's response was a sharp intake of breath. "I know, you just focus on finishing me off in your mouth this time." With that, his movements became a relentless assault, a storm of sensation that left Tanjirou with no choice but to surrender. His muffled whimpers turned into desperate gasps for air.

Tanjirou's mind whirled in a dizzying vortex of edging panic and desire. His body, a puppet caught in Inosuke's relentless storm, responded with a desperate urgency. Pleasure radiated from his core, building with each powerful thrust, a tidal wave threatening to engulf him. A crescendo of desire built within them, urging them closer to the peak.

Inosuke's pace slowed, his movements becoming deliberate, controlled. With a sharp exhale, he wrenched himself free, wrestling with his own primal urges. He gently released Tanjirou, who wobbled slightly on unsteady legs. Tanjirou’s legs, drained of strength, buckled beneath him, sending him sliding down the rough wall. Through the haze of pleasure and lingering fear, a single, vital task flickered in his mind.

With trembling hands, he reached out, his hand shaking, and grasped at Inosuke's hardness, drawing it into his mouth. His body tensed, then shuddered with the force of his release. The wave of warmth that flooded Tanjirou's mouth was both exhilarating and overwhelming. He fought back a gag reflex, focusing on the frantic rhythm of Inosuke's ragged moans and the desperate grip he had on Tanjirou's shoulders for support.

As the tremors subsided and Inosuke's ragged breaths filled the air, a wave of accomplishment, tinged with a sliver of shame, washed over Tanjirou. They had done it, marked their passion illicitly in this grimy alley and possibly gotten away with it.  The silence stretched, broken only by the rasp of their breathing and the distant echo of their shared pleasure.

Tanjirou slumped against the wall, his body a leaden weight. The pleasure had faded, leaving behind a dull ache and a mess that made him grimace. He knew they should move, but the thought of even the slightest exertion felt daunting. A wave of self-consciousness washed over him – the wetness, the stickiness of sweat and…everything else. What could he possibly clean himself up with in their current situation?

Suddenly, a loud ripping sound tore him from his thoughts. Inosuke, already dressed and rummaging through their prize bag, grabbed an uchiwa and ripped the paper off its bamboo frame. It was the pink one Tanjirou had painstakingly won for Nezuko, the one that matched her favourite kimono perfectly. A pang of indignance shot through him, but Inosuke's shrug was dismissive.

"We got her plenty of other stuff."

Tanjirou watched with a resigned sigh as Inosuke used the makeshift tool to mop up his legs. 

"Looks like you wet yourself," Inosuke teased, jabbing a finger at the darkened stain on Tanjirou's yukata. Tanjirou had naively hoped the dark fabric would hide the evidence, but two rounds of his own release had left a large, soggy patch.

Surrendering his dignity to the situation, Tanjirou let Inosuke take charge. Resourceful as ever, Inosuke removed his fluffy brown deer fur belt from around his obi belt and wrapped it crudely around Tanjirou's hip, its wideness effectively concealing the telltale damp patch. The belt, typically worn beneath Inosuke’s bare torso, accentuated Inosuke's wild, animalistic appeal, but Tanjirou knew that on himself, it simply looked… silly.

"See? All covered up now," Inosuke declared with a triumphant grin.

A semblance of normalcy restored, they began their slow walk back towards the fading festival lights. Tanjirou leaned against Inosuke, his legs still shaky from their intense encounter. Inosuke, however, was famished. Most of the festival stores were packing up, the night drawing to a close. But with a determined glint in his eye, Inosuke rummaged through a closing stall, emerging triumphantly with the last remaining supply of choco bananas, scored at a discount to boot.

He offered one to Tanjirou, but the offer was met with a resolute headshake. The metallic tang of Inosuke's release still lingered on his tongue, a unique, but not entirely unpleasant, taste. Yet, the sight of the phallic-shaped treats did little to entice him. In fact, it served as a stark reminder of their outrageous act in the alley, sending a wave of hot shame crashing down on him.

Inosuke's brow furrowed.

"You okay? Are you mad at me?" he blurted, a flicker of worry flashing in his eyes. 

Tanjirou, realising his refusal had sent the wrong message, offered a quick, reassuring smile. "No, I'm not mad at you," he said gently. "Why would you think that?"

Inosuke's cheeks flushed a faint pink. "I... I'm sorry," he mumbled, his usual bravado faltering. "I know I can be selfish sometimes. It's just..." He trailed off, then blurted, "You're always the one in control, so composed. Seeing you unravel like that, all flustered and pleading... that, well, that gets me going in a way nothing else ever has."

Inosuke’s rare apology sparked a wave of tenderness over Tanjirou. He reached out, stroking Inosuke's hair with a playful smile. "If I hated it," he teased, "you'd have gotten a headbutt in that alley, wouldn't you?"

Inosuke's face, previously etched with worry, broke into a wide grin. "That’s what I thought!" he exclaimed. "So... you liked it?"

The question hung in the air. Tanjirou replayed the scene in his mind - the adrenaline rush of near-discovery warring with a raw, primal thrill. Being publicly claimed by Inosuke. The forbidden edge of it all – reckless, irresponsible, wildly inappropriate – the complete antithesis of everything Tanjirou held dear – was undeniably intoxicating.

The complex mix of emotions was difficult to articulate. So, settling for a simple truth, he admitted, "Yeah... yeah, I guess I did."

"Really?! So can we do it again?" Inosuke's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Maybe..." Tanjirou started cautiously. "But next time, don’t jump me like that. We need a plan. Wear the right clothes, bring cleaning supplies, be prepared..."

Inosuke's grin widened. "Of course! You can count on me to plan!" 

Tanjirou watched his lover gleefully devour the last choco banana, a wry smile playing on his lips. Despite the sense of security Inosuke offered in most situations, planning wasn't his forte. But then again, maybe that disarming impulsiveness was part of the thrill, along with his own intense reactions. And if that's what Inosuke craved, well, Tanjirou wouldn't be one to deny him.

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This is the 8th story in the Series: Where the Wisteria Always Bloom and can be enjoyed on its own. But if you read the previous installments in the series, you may appreciate certain references and throwbacks as well as the character development throughout the series. If you have the time, I suggest reading the earlier stories in consecutive order before diving into this one.

To recap, our main characters and their birds live together in the Kamado family household, and they run an eatery in the neighboring town called the Wisteria Garden. In this installment, Inosuke and Tanjirou are 19 years old, Zenitsu is 20, and Nezuko is 18.

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Three years had elapsed since the final battle, and the Kamado siblings, along with their loud but lovable companion Inosuke, and Zenitsu, her now-boyfriend, had infused new life into the Wisteria Garden, a cosy eatery they had inherited from a family friend. It was a legacy of hospitality, a sanctuary for smiles and piping hot dishes of comfort food, and Nezuko treasured this peaceful chapter of their lives. Today, however, the usual morning banter was muted. Tanjirou and Zenitsu had left early to do some errands, leaving Nezuko and Inosuke to handle the morning preparations.

A friendly silence enveloped them as they worked. They aimed to finish most of the work before Tanjirou and Zenitsu came back, but their quiet harmony was soon interrupted by Inosuke's incessant annoyed grunts and tsks. Nezuko peeked at him, noticing how he kept trying to scratch his back and flick his hair away with a restless hand. His hair had grown longer than he was used to, falling below his shoulders and grazing his bare skin. She knew Inosuke's senses were razor-sharp, and his hair must be bothering him.

"Need a trim?" she suggested, though she knew Inosuke usually relied on Tanjirou to tame his mane. After all, Tanjirou wasn't here, and it wouldn't take long. But Inosuke hesitated, his brow creased.

"Tanjirou said not to let you touch my hair," he said.

Nezuko's jaw dropped. "Why on earth not?!" she blurted, incredulity lacing her voice.

Inosuke scrunched his face, brows furrowing in concentration as if trying to unearth a forgotten memory. "Dunno," he finally admitted with a shrug. "Just remember him saying it, so I'm gonna wait for him." He switched gears, a smug grin replacing the confusion. "Besides, he's my number one underling, right? Cutting my hair is his duty!"

Nezuko usually found Inosuke's "underling" shtick hilarious. But this time, the humour died on her lips. Tanjirou trusted her with his hair, as did Zenitsu. Why would he tell Inosuke something so different? Was it a misunderstanding? Did Inosuke misinterpret his words? Or maybe Tanjirou just didn't want to bother her? That made no sense at all. Inosuke's mane was the easiest haircut of the bunch!

Pulling herself together, she said gently, "It's really simple and fast. Let me help you, or you'll be scratching all morning because of your hair. I always cut nii-chan 's and Zenitsu's hair. And you know how hard it is to keep Zenitsu's hairstyle in order."

Inosuke chewed his lip, unable to find a counterargument. He perched himself on a stool as Nezuko sat a mirror on the kitchen counter in front of him. But as she lifted his hair, her eyes widened in surprise. Her gaze landed on a curious constellation of marks, shaped like crescent moons or bruised circles, scattered across his nape. Some were a deep red or bruised purple, others pale pink or yellowish-brown alongside the deeper shades.

Had he gotten into a scuffle? But with who? Their days of demon slaying were long gone, where the only clashes he faced were lively spars with Tanjirou and Zenitsu during their training sessions, meant for staying fit rather than fighting. Curiosity gnawed at her as she examined his neck, her gaze then flicking to his bare torso. Why only on his neck? What a strange place for such injuries.

"What are these marks on your neck?" Nezuko asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

"Huh? What marks?" Inosuke turned around to face her, his brows knitting in confusion.

Nezuko held up the mirror in an angle so that the marks were visible to him.

"Oh!" He smacked his forehead, letting out a colourful curse he'd picked up from less polite company. It was something he did whenever he thought he had messed up big time, and Tanjirou always scolded him whenever he let loose the swear word in front of Nezuko. Not that she really cared. It’s not like her ears were made of porcelain and couldn’t handle a rude word.

"What is it?" Nezuko pressed, her curiosity bubbling.

"Uhh… Um… Erm…" He stammered, his cheeks and neck erupting in a flush that seemed to mirror the deepening of the reddish hue around the marks. His usual bravado crumbled, replaced by nervous fidgeting like a squirrel caught stealing nuts.

"Do they hurt? Can I see?", she asked, reaching out with a gentle hand. Some of the redder ones were slightly swollen, while the lighter ones lay smooth against his skin.

"Hands off!" Inosuke barked, leaping from the chair so fast Nezuko almost jumped herself.

Her shock must have been obvious because Inosuke's expression softened slightly, a trace of regret flashing across his features. "Uh... don't worry, it's nothing. Doesn't hurt at all," he placated her.

"How did you get them?" Nezuko persisted, her concern surpassing curiosity now.

"Dunno. Probably an insect bite," Inosuke mumbled, turning his head away to evade her gaze. 

Nezuko couldn't help but notice the unease that seemed to emanate from him, a stark contrast to his usual frank demeanour. A lie, clumsy and transparent, written across his face. While Inosuke did not make a terrible lying face like Tanjirou, he rarely lied, and when he did, it was like watching a fish out of water, flailing helplessly. Why was Inosuke lying? He wasn't one to sugarcoat things, usually opting for blunt honesty over elaborate fibs. The rarity of his deception made Nezuko's brow furrow in worry. Was there more to this than met the eye?

"It... looks more like a bruise," Nezuko ventured, breaking the tense silence between them, determined to dig deeper into the matter without spooking Inosuke. Unfortunately, her attempt to solve the mystery only seemed to agitate him further.

"Uh, gotta go!" he blurted, bolting out of the house like a frightened boar. Nezuko stood there, scissors dangling uselessly, the unanswered questions hanging heavy in the air.

*

Left to herself, Nezuko had no option but to push Inosuke's odd behaviour to the back of her mind and concentrate on the lunch preparations; half the town's bellies now depended on her culinary skills.

The strange marks on Inosuke's neck had almost faded from her memory when Tanjirou returned, greeting her cheerfully. 

"Welcome back!" Nezuko beamed at him over a gigantic pile of freshly rolled udon, a task she had just accomplished by hand all by herself.

Tanjirou acknowledged her with a wider grin and a wave before heading straight for the counter, where Nezuko's mirror and scissors lay. 

"Just in time! How did you know I wanted to trim my hair?" he remarked cheerily, adjusting the mirror and grabbing the scissors. 

Tanjirou grew out his hair and tied it up as a high ponytail, but it occasionally needed a trim to prevent it from getting too long and interfering with his work.

"Eh?" Nezuko thought, surprised. Of course, she hadn't expected Tanjirou's wish to trim his hair, and Inosuke's morning antics suddenly did a dramatic replay in her mind. 

Nevertheless, she decided to put aside her worries for the moment. "Here, let me help you. I'm done with the udon; it just needs to rest."

"Sounds good!" Tanjirou chirped, settling happily into a chair and handing the scissors to her. "By the way, where's Inosuke?"

As Nezuko carefully snipped away at Tanjirou's locks, she related to him her observations of Inosuke's cryptic neck markings. But instead of his usual interest, Tanjirou's face performed an impressive disappearing act, turning the colour of a perfectly ripe tomato. 

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about those marks, would you?" Nezuko asked, sensing a shift in the atmosphere.

“No, I don’t,” Tanjirou replied, a tad too quickly, his cheeks deepening a shade. An even more interesting expression followed, like a flustered cat trying to swallow a goldfish.

Alarm bells went off in Nezuko's head. Tanjirou’s expression screamed that he was lying. Besides, given his relationship with Inosuke, there was no way he hadn't noticed those marks, nor tried to find out what they were.

Tanjirou cleared his throat awkwardly. "Shouldn't we get back to work? We won't be able to open on time otherwise." 

"Fine, I'm almost done. I'll just tie up your hair," Nezuko said, annoyed and worried by Tanjirou's obvious decision to keep information from her. As she gathered his hair and pulled his collar back to check for loose strands, her heart skipped a beat. Similar, mysterious marks bloomed on Tanjirou's neck, mirroring Inosuke's puzzling constellation.

"Not you too," she gasped, the brush in her hand clattering to the floor.

Tanjirou blinked, genuine confusion etching his features. "What is it, Nezuko?"

"You have the same strange welts as Inosuke on your neck! Come clean, what are they?"

The flush that had begun fading from his cheeks earlier returned with a vengeance. 

"I... I do?” He stammered. “Uh, it must be as he said. They must be insect bites. That's it!"  His voice wobbled a touch too high.

Nezuko held her tongue. Grabbing him by the collar and demanding the truth was tempting, but she knew her brother. He wouldn't lie without good reason. This secret needed a gentler touch, not brute force. Inosuke had slipped through her fingers, but Tanjirou, oh no, he wouldn't escape her questioning so easily.

She carefully tied up Tanjirou's hair, subtly steering the conversation towards his errand. His usual chatter returned, peppered with stories about the supplier's delightful new radishes and their generous discount.

"We can share the savings with our customers!" he beamed.

"That's great," Nezuko smiled as she put the finishing touches on his hair. "Nii-chan, you’ve got hair on your shirt. Mind if I give it a quick shake? It'll be terrible if the hair gets into the customer's food."

"Sure," Tanjirou said, removing his haori and unbuttoning his shirt without a second thought. Then, like a deer caught in the headlights, he froze. He quickly pulled the haori back over his chest but Nezuko had already seen what he'd tried to hide.

"Nii-chan! Those marks…!"

His denial sputtered out. "It's nothing!"

"What do you mean it's nothing? You’ve got so many of them! All over your chest and even on your stomach!"

“It’s nothing… really!” he mumbled, looking almost on the brink of tears as he clutched his haori around him protectively.

Nezuko examined his face. The signs of lying were obvious, but she couldn’t read his mind. She couldn't figure out why he insisted on lying. But she was certain it must be to cover something significant. Something dreadful. Tanjirou was always over-protective, and shielded her from matters which he deemed too “complex”, like she was too immature or weak to handle it. The thought prickled her like a stray bamboo splinter.

"Tell me what it is!"

"I don't know, maybe I tripped and injured myself and I don’t remember it. But it’s nothing, really!"

Nezuko narrowed her eyes at him. Then she tightened her fist over his haori, determined to uncover the truth.

*

Moments later, after a wild chase resembling a desperate cat and mouse game, Tanjirou lay sprawled face-down on the floor, his shirt riding up slightly and revealing more marks on his back to Nezuko’s horror.  As he flailed his limbs fruitlessly, Nezuko sat firmly on him, determined to extract an answer from him, ignoring his panicked pleas echoing through the room.

"Nezuko-chan!"

"Let me see!"

"No! Please stop it!"

"I'll stop if you let me see!"

"Nezuko-chan!"

Amidst the commotion, a familiar voice sliced through Nezuko's persistent demands. Only one person in the house addressed her with that endearment.

She paused, mid-struggle, and looked up to see Zenitsu's stunned face, his wary stance betraying his nervousness. In that moment, Nezuko was keenly aware of how she must look – like a crazed, furious woman – and quickly scrambled to her feet, smoothing out her ruffled clothes in embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Tanjirou swiftly scrambled aside, hastily buttoning up his shirt and muttering under his breath “thank goodness”.

"Uh... Nezuko-chan, what's going on?" Zenitsu asked, his face marked with a mix of concern and confusion.

"Nii-chan has these weird marks all over his back, his neck and torso, and who knows where else! He won't tell me what they are, and he won't let me see them either!" Nezuko cried, her voice quivering with worry.

"Really?" Zenitsu turned to Tanjirou, seeking confirmation.

Tanjirou, now on his feet with his shirt fully buttoned up, nodded reluctantly. "I... yes... but as I said, it's nothing."

"How can it be nothing?" Nezuko retorted, her eyes wide. “No one just gets red and pink marks all over for no reason! Don't you agree?" Nezuko implored, turning to Zenitsu for support.

"Yeah," Zenitsu agreed, eager to show solidarity with Nezuko. He approached Tanjirou, his expression grave. "Even if you don't want to let Nezuko-chan see them, you can show them to me. Don't make her worry."

At that moment, a cacophony of door slamming and stomping announced Inosuke's imminent return.

"Oh, Inosuke has the same marks too!” Nezuko exclaimed, pointing at him as he barreled in like a rouge boar. “On his neck. Inosuke, show them to Zenitsu."

Inosuke skidded to a halt. "What? Are you still harping on that?" he exclaimed incredulously.

"Huh? Is it contagious?" Zenitsu instinctively recoiled from Tanjirou.

"Who knows. Better keep your distance, scaredy-cat," Inosuke snarked.

Unfazed, Nezuko marched over to Inosuke and, with a swift movement, lifted his hair, revealing the telltale bruises. "See, Zenitsu!"

“Hey!” Inosuke squawked and tried to escape, but Zenitsu seized him by the arms to make him stay still.

Ignoring Inosuke’s thrashing and cursing, Nezuko and Zenitsu took a closer look at Inosuke's marks. Nezuko still had no further clue, but she observed that Zenitsu’s expression had changed from one of confusion, to concern, to a deep frown. Casting a sharp glare at Tanjirou, who returned it with an instantly sheepish look, Zenitsu snorted in annoyance. He let go of Inosuke, who darted behind Tanjirou and clung to his haori sleeve.

"So, that's the story, huh?" Zenitsu drawled, rolling his eyes.

Nezuko, all business, stepped between him and Tanjirou, blocking Tanjirou's pleading gaze. "What story? Tell me now, Zenitsu!" Her hand tightened on his arm in urgency. He winced in pain and she loosened her grip, apologising. 

“You will tell me, won’t you?” she pressed, her fists balled at her sides.

"Yes, of course! You're my girlfriend, I would never dream of not telling you," Zenitsu gulped, while Nezuko noticed Tanjirou looking dejected from the corner of her eye.

"So, what is it?" she nagged.

"It's probably love bugs," Zenitsu said.

"Huh?"

"There are two love bugs here, and they're very big."

"Love bugs?" Nezuko echoed, unable to shake the feeling that Zenitsu's tone carried unnecessary sarcasm.

"Yeah, it's a kind of creature that sucks on the skin and makes it bruise."

"I've never heard of it. So, is it really an insect bite? Wouldn't they bite exposed skin? Why are the marks hidden?" 

“Love bugs, fascinating creatures with city origins," Zenitsu stated. He stole a quick glance at Inosuke and Tanjirou before adding, "They're not just passionate," he said, emphasising the word "passionate" with a flourish that made Nezuko raise an eyebrow, "They're considerate too, targeting only hidden areas. This particular bug, it seems, knew Inosuke's aversion to shirts like it lives among us and studies his habits."

Nezuko saw Tanjirou visibly relax, even as Zenitsu shot him a smug smirk. Their shared response and Zenitsu’s odd choice of words only fueled her confusion.

"Do you have any?" she asked, eyes narrowed like a wary cat.

"Of course not!" Zenitsu sputtered, a touch too defensively. "Why would I?"

Her lips pursed in disbelief. “Then why only Inosuke, and nii-chan? And nii-chan has so many!"

“Maybe it's like how some blood types are more attractive to mosquitoes? The bug that attacked Tanjirou must be particularly voracious, and unstoppable. Like a wild boar.” Zenitsu offered, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Nezuko, despite the absurdity of it all, felt a pang of worry. “Will they be ok? Are the bites serious? Will they go away?”

“Of course they'll go away. Don't get yourself worked up over nothing,” Zenitsu's voice dropped the sarcastic lilt and took on a soothing sincerity.

Nezuko relaxed slightly, worry replaced by a nagging suspicion. But before she could press further, Zenitsu switched topics entirely.

"Only half an hour left until opening. Is everything ready?" he quipped, surveying their messier-than-usual surroundings, where half-prepared ingredients lay neglected and furniture were knocked out of place from the chase earlier.

Nezuko groaned. "I haven't even…"

As they dove back to work, she couldn't help but overhear Zenitsu's harsh whispering at Tanjirou and Inosuke: "You two owe me big time."

*

Nezuko may have temporarily dropped the matter, but that didn't mean she trusted the boys entirely. Sure, she lacked their extraordinary senses of smell, hearing, or touch, but she had something that trumped them all - a woman's intuition.

Despite her ignorance about city biodiversity and her desperation to believe Zenitsu, a jagged doubt gnawed at her. His story felt half-baked, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

Despite countless life-threatening battles fought alongside them, a nagging feeling persisted for Nezuko: she'd never truly be "one of the boys." Tanjirou's protectiveness, born of his brotherly love, was understandable, but even Zenitsu mirrored it, and Inosuke, influenced by their dynamic, followed suit. Their treatment, while well-meaning, was patronising, made her feel infantilised.

This rankled especially coming from Tanjirou. He, who pushed his limits recklessly, neglecting his own well-being while fussing over others. Had he gotten himself into trouble again? Perhaps helping a neighbour exterminate pests without proper gear, his usual selflessness leading to his own harm. And Inosuke, despite his unwavering loyalty, couldn't be counted on for restraint or common sense.

Blackmailing Zenitsu with a month-long silent treatment crossed her mind, but it felt beneath her. No, she'd unearth the truth herself, pry it from their lips on her own terms.

Armed with resolve, Nezuko spent the week grilling Inosuke and Tanjirou. Daily interrogations about the marks, punctuated by persistent pleas to visit a doctor, met stubborn refusals. With their eatery attracting a constant flow of customers and the importance of hygiene in the food business, surely it was only responsible to address the presence of those love bugs, if they did indeed exist?

Exasperated, Nezuko took matters into her own hands. Pest control arrived, much to the boys' chagrin. The inspector, armed with a huge array of paraphernalia, scoured every nook and cranny of their premises. He even apprehended Kuro-chan, their resident cat, subjecting him to a flea inspection met with hisses and outraged swats, claws thankfully blunted by the inspector's protective garb. Finally, he declared that even without his intervention, both their eatery and resident home were spotless, insect-free.

Nezuko, dumbfounded, erupted in an uncharacteristic argument. 

"Love bugs," she insisted, voice sharp as a butcher's knife. "Show him the marks on your neck, Inosuke!"

"No way I'm sticking out my neck to some dude!" Inosuke roared.

Tanjirou swiftly paid the inspector and escorted him out of the house, and the boys watched him leave, relief etched on their faces. But Nezuko, eyes burning with suspicion, promised this wouldn't be the end. The mystery wasn’t resolved yet, but she was one step closer to unravelling it.

*

Nezuko's stomach churned with each sunrise, the bitter taste of deception lingering on her tongue. Had she, Kamado Nezuko, been outwitted? She felt a pang of regret for questioning the expertise of the inspector, arguing with him instead of seizing the opportunity to ask him more about those mysterious love bugs. It hadn’t been easy to get the appointment with him in the first place, and all her attempts to reconnect were now met by the weary drone of his assistant who knew nothing of the creatures.

The key to the mystery, she concluded, resided in Inosuke and Tanjirou's guarded silence. Unlike her stoic brother, Inosuke, impulsive and easily swayed, seemed the weaker link. He became her target. She felt guilty about taking advantage of his weakness, but this was all stemming from a place of concern. Whenever they were alone, Nezuko would pepper him with questions, her voice a relentless sparrow's chirp. Promises of extra tempura, dangled like glittering bait, were met with grunts and frustrated scowls.

"Shut up! You nagging hag!" Inosuke finally exploded one day, his frustration spilling over.

Nezuko flinched. Inosuke's brusqueness was one thing, but "hag"? The sting of the insult pricked her eyes, hot tears threatening to spill. Maybe he had picked it up from those rough kids in the alley, just a casual barb. Or he’d learnt it from Yushirou-san, who considered most women who weren’t Tamayo-san as hags.  Regardless, it landed like a punch to the gut.

Zenitsu, his keen hearing picking up her distress, materialised beside her. Inosuke, wide-eyed panic replacing his anger, stammered apologies as Zenitsu put a comforting arm around Nezuko and ushered her to sit down.

"Wait till Tanjirou hears you made her cry!" Zenitsu hissed at Inosuke, his tone and glare venomous. Turning to Nezuko, he softened, his eyes filled with concern. 

"Nezuko-chan, you're an angel, not a hag. The most beautiful, kindest angel ever! Don't listen to that boar-brained baboon!"

"Don't say that about Inosuke," Nezuko hiccupped, wiping her tears with Zenitsu’s handkerchief.

Inosuke, uncharacteristically subdued, shuffled closer. "L-listen," he stammered, "I know you're worried, and you're mad, because you care. I didn't mean… I’m really s-s-sorry… and I’m not saying this because of Tanjirou. I just… I hate seeing you sad. So please, don't cry anymore."

Nezuko saw the flicker of genuine concern in his eyes, a rare glimpse beneath his bluster. She knew he meant it, even if his words stumbled. Despite this consolation, the desperation for truth continued to fuel her frustration.

“So just tell me the truth!” she cried, her voice cracking. "Why won't any of you tell me?"

Zenitsu and Inosuke exchanged furtive glances and hand gestures, a silent conversation playing out before Nezuko's eyes. They were excluding her, again, treating her like a child who couldn't handle the truth.

"Ahem!" Nezuko cleared her throat, demanding their attention.

"Nezuko-chan," Zenitsu began, his voice laced with evasion, "they're grown men. They’ve been through a lot, and they can handle themselves." Nezuko noted that Zenitsu’s response was non-committal, his earlier lie abandoned.

"I know they've been through a lot. Haven’t we all? And that’s exactly why I worry they don't know their limits! Zenitsu, do you think I'm a nag too?" Nezuko snapped, her frustration boiling over.

Zenitsu wilted and fell silent. Nezuko knew pushing him wouldn't help. He wouldn’t betray his friends. Sure, he was whiny sometimes, but loyal to the core, a rock she could depend on. That's why she chose him, wasn't it? 

*

Nezuko had doubted Tanjirou's willingness to broach the subject unprompted, but during that evening's dinner, he surprised her. With a serious tone cutting through the usual dinner chatter, Tanjirou addressed Nezuko directly. "I heard what happened, and I'm sorry that Inosuke upset you, but you have to stop what you're doing, Nezuko. You're making Inosuke uneasy."

Nezuko's initial surprise morphed into controlled disbelief. "Uneasy?" she echoed, her voice barely a whisper above a stunned gasp. "The ones making me uneasy are you two! I'm worried! Why won't you just tell me the truth?" she pressed, her eyes boring into his.

Tanjirou's expression shifted, the earlier concern replaced by a profound regret that tugged at Nezuko's heart. "I'm so sorry I caused you worry, Nezuko," he confessed, his voice heavy with remorse. “But trust me. It's really nothing to worry about.” 

Tanjirou’s face was re-adorned with his characteristic lying expression as he dished up the old story. “It's as Zenitsu said, they're love bugs, and they're not harmful.” 

Nezuko cast a glance at Zenitsu. Guilt flickered across his features as he avoided Nezuko's gaze, as though he regretted ever mentioning the story.

That's a lie," Nezuko declared, her voice firm and unwavering. The accusation hung heavy in the air, challenging Tanjirou's fabricated reality. He opened his mouth, ready to stammer another excuse, but before he could utter a word, Inosuke interrupted, setting down his rice bowl with a determined thud. 

"I’m telling her the truth." 

Tanjirou stuttered in disbelief, "W-what...? But we agreed..."

Inosuke pressed on, disregarding Tanjirou's protests. "Hiding like this, dodging her questions... It's just so dumb. You're always teaching me to treat others with kindness. Isn't it selfish to lie and get her all worked up and upset?" His words prompted a stunned silence from Tanjirou.

Nezuko's heart raced with anticipation. Finally, she was on the brink of uncovering the truth. How serious was it? How bad was it? Her mind raced with conflicting emotions, torn between the satisfaction of getting them to open up and the fear of what she might discover.

Inosuke blurted, "It was me, okay? Got a little carried away with the kisses, left some marks. He kissed me back, fair's fair. But blame me if you want." He puffed out his chest.

Tanjirou choked on his own saliva, his face turning beetroot red. "Nezuko, it's not… well, kinda, but please, don't blame him! It's my fault—"

Nezuko blinked, jaw slack. Love bites, not love bugs? The revelation struck her like a slapstick punchline, leaving her momentarily stunned by its absurdity. Why go through elaborate charades for something so simple? Surely, this wasn't another lie? 

Memories flickered, accusingly bright: Zenitsu's mocking tone during the "love bug" charade, the odd location of the marks... Tanjirou, with his insistence on propriety, might very well kiss Inosuke's neck if he thought the marks would remain hidden beneath his hair. And Inosuke, with his boisterous and unabashed affection for Tanjirou... Zenitsu's comparison of the “love bug” to a voracious and unstoppable wild boar suddenly made perfect sense, painting a picture of Inosuke that she couldn't unsee.

As the pieces clicked into place, a blush crept up her cheeks, burning like a brand. How could she have missed it? It wasn't like she was clueless. Novels, whispered stories from friends, even Zenitsu's not-so-subtle hints... her mind simply refused to make the connection.

But worse, a gnawing realisation dawned – her own overreaction. Calling in pest control, her relentless questioning, chasing Tanjirou around the kitchen trying to take his shirt off, even shoving Inosuke's marks in Zenitsu's face... all for something so intimate, so intensely personal. No wonder Inosuke snapped. She buried her burning face in her hands, trying to extinguish the heat.

Yet, why shroud it in secrecy, push her to such frantic measures for the truth? A simple explanation at the beginning might have brought a blush, but likely nothing more. Why bother dropping hints but spin this elaborate yarn of nonexistent bugs, a story she, in her desperate wish to trust, readily swallowed? Did they truly see her as so sheltered – naive, innocent, a child to be amused? Was this a prank? Did they laugh at her behind her back while she fretted and lost sleep?

Her introspective turmoil shattered with Zenitsu's exclamation, "Well, it’s just as I said, nothing to worry about! Let’s get back to dinner! I'm starving, and Nezuko-chan's cooking is legendary!" He beamed at her, a nervous smile, aware of the storm brewing beneath the surface, but making a valiant, if clumsy, attempt to dispel it.

Nezuko rose to her feet, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. "No love bugs, huh? Anxious days, sleepless nights, and calling in pest control, all for a silly prank! You played me for a fool!" she shot a piercing glare at Zenitsu.

Zenitsu squeaked, his voice high-pitched like a frightened mouse. "No! It wasn't a prank! We just... didn't know what to tell you!" 

Nezuko spun on her heel, face stormy with hurt and anger. Without a word, she stormed out of the kitchen, the clatter of the slammed door echoing her frustration. Tanjirou's helpless apologies hung heavy in the air, drowned out by the shrill echoes of Zenitsu's panicked cries.

"What was I thinking, getting involved?" Zenitsu wailed. "If she stays mad at me because of you, I'll never forgive you!"

*

Tanjirou caught hold of her arm, Zenitsu and Inosuke trailing awkwardly behind. "Nezuko, wait!,” he pleaded, voice filled with desperation. “Please, listen to me! It's all my fault, this mess. Don't blame Zenitsu and Inosuke for anything, I beg you!"

Nezuko stopped abruptly, her back rigid and shoulders tense. She didn't turn around, but her voice, when it came, crackled with barely suppressed frustration. "What exactly are you babbling about, nii-chan? What are you apologising for?"

Tanjirou took a deep, shaky breath. "It's... that matter between me and Inosuke. It caused everyone trouble, and made Zenitsu tell a ridiculous lie to cover for me..." He stammered, his face flushing crimson with a mixture of guilt and embarrassment.

Nezuko finally spun around, her brows furrowed in a deep frown. "Nii-chan," she said, "that makes no sense at all! Why are you taking the blame for that? What trouble are you talking about? Why do you think you need to apologise?"

Tanjirou's gaze flickered away from hers, his voice filled with doubt and insecurity. "Do you think... maybe it was inappropriate? What we did?" he mumbled, avoiding her eyes.

Nezuko shook her head in exasperation. "No! It's just... I wish you had told me the truth from the beginning, nii-chan. You made me feel like a child. But I'm not a little girl anymore. I already know about you and Inosuke. So what you did is natural, and honestly, I'm happy for you," she said, her voice softening with sincerity.

Tanjirou's shoulders slumped, his gaze falling to the ground. "I messed up, Nezuko. I should have been honest from the start. Seeing you so worried… it hurt. I never thought you'd be so relentless in your search for the truth. Not that I thought it wasn’t your place to know. But you're… well, younger. And…a girl." He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "It felt strange burdening you with something like this."

Nezuko stepped closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "First of all, I'm 18 now, nii-chan. Not exactly a child anymore. Second, remember what we are? We're family, and you can tell me anything. We share everything, joys and sorrows, as a team since always. Don't underestimate me, or hide things from me. I'm stronger than you think, and I can handle more than you give me credit for." Her gaze met his, filled with unwavering determination and a touch of playful defiance.

Tanjirou finally looked up, meeting her gaze with eyes filled with gratitude and a hint of awe. "Nezuko, I never would underestimate you," he said sincerely. "I know what you've endured, the strength you possess. But you'll always be my little sister, no matter how grown-up you get. I'll remember this, though, what you said."

Nezuko's smile reached her eyes, warmth radiating from her gaze. They fell into each other's arms, a tangle of limbs and laughter. Inosuke's boisterous whoop echoed through the room, a joyful punctuation to the quiet tension as he wrapped his arms around them both. Zenitsu joined the huddle, his trembling fading with each shared heartbeat.

*

The morning sun bathed the house in a warm glow as Inosuke dashed into the kitchen, his sights set firmly on the rice pot. Tanjirou followed behind him, a knitted scarf wrapped curiously around his neck, a strange sight for the summer heat.

Zenitsu eyed him with concern. “Isn't that a bit warm, Tanjirou?"

Tanjirou offered a noncommittal shrug. "It’s cosy."

Nezuko scrutinised him with a hint of worry in her eyes. "Feeling under the weather, nii-chan? Did you catch a chill?"

"Of course not, Nezuko! I'm perfectly fine," Tanjirou assured her, a hint of pink blossoming on his cheeks under her watchful eyes.

Nezuko tilted her head, her voice firm but gentle. "Remember what we discussed yesterday, nii-chan? No more secrets."

Tanjirou hesitated, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. "Alright, you got me," he conceded with a sheepish grin. Gingerly, he peeled back the woolly fabric, revealing a scattering of reddish crescents etched across his neck. Then he quickly wound it back, blushing furiously. 

Nezuko felt a mixture of amusement and embarrassment flood her cheeks. "Seems you and Inosuke have been busy," she giggled.

Zenitsu gaped, his jaw dropping in mock horror. "Whoa there, hold your horses, lovebirds! Nezuko-chan may not mind it, but at least show some restraint!"

Inosuke scoffed, swallowing a mouthful of rice with a gulp. "Jealous, are you? You and I could have a contest, see who gives the most love bites! Bet I win, you wimp!" He pointed a triumphant finger at Zenitsu.

Tanjirou shot him a withering glare, his blush deepening to a fiery crimson. "That's a terrible idea, Inosuke!" he snapped, his voice tight with protectiveness. "Think about who Zenitsu's supposed to... well... you know..." He stammered, flustered. "Do you honestly think that's appropriate?!"

Inosuke blinked, confused. Then realisation dawned on him, accompanied by a faint blush creeping up his own neck. "Uh... right. Maybe not such a good idea then."

Zenitsu, having caught on much faster, protested, "What is that supposed to mean?!" His gaze darted to Nezuko, a mix of excitement and nervousness sparking in his eyes. "He's right, we should get busy too, and win the contest, hm?"

Nezuko blinked, surprised by his sudden suggestion. "Win the contest?" 

Zenitsu, his voice tinged with anxious nervousness, continued, "Well, we are a couple too, aren't we? If they can get all lovey-dovey, so can we!"

Tanjirou's eyes widened in alarm. "Don't even think about it, Zenitsu!"

"Double standards much, Tanjirou?" he countered indignantly, his face now a vibrant crimson.

Nezuko intervened, her voice filled with playful authority. "Zenitsu's right. Remember, I'm not a child. I'm capable of making my own decisions about such things."

Tanjirou's face fell. "Oh, right... sorry about that," he mumbled. "Guess we'll just, uh, give you some privacy then."

"So the contest is on then?" Inosuke quipped, oblivious to the tension. Catching Tanjirou's scathing glare, he quickly shovelled more rice into his mouth.

Zenitsu's eyes lit up like fireworks, tiny pink hearts seemingly shimmering around him. "Really?! Now?!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with childlike excitement.

Nezuko stifled a laugh at his theatrics. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Zenitsu," she warned, wagging a finger at him with mock sternness. "I never said I’d agree to it.”

Zenitsu's smile plummeted like a fallen star. "What?! But why?!"

A sly smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I haven't gotten even with you for your lie. Let's just say you're lucky I'm even speaking to you."

Zenitsu turned to Tanjirou with a dramatic pout. "This is all your fault, Tanjiroooou!"

Tanjirou, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, tried to hide a small, satisfied grin. He mirrored Inosuke and shovelled rice into his mouth with gusto. 

「 ✦ Please support your creators by reblogging ✦ 」

“Inosuke,” Tanjirou whispered. Inosuke jumped. Having people speak into his ear was something he was still trying to get accustomed to without his boar hide as a barrier.

“Sorry, want to hold hands?”

“Huh?”

“So we don’t get separated.”

Inosuke felt Tanjirou’s hand press against his. Reflexively, he squeezed it back.

Tanjirou’s warm, callused hand was so much more comforting than the cool, floppy haori fabric. The dull ache in his stomach left, replaced by the warm and fuzzy feelings that Tanjirou always made him feel, but with greater intensity than before. His heart raced. It reminded him of the thrill from scoring a win, or the buzz from eating as much as he wanted of his favourite food. They were still in the crowd, making slow and steady progress. But he had stopped hearing the noisy chatter of the crowd, stopped feeling the stuffiness and claustrophobia. All he could feel was Tanjirou’s hand against his own, and their close proximity to each other.

---------- ReName_重名君 perfectly captured the endearing awkwardness and sweetness of their first handhold.

Tanjirou's protective gesture and Inosuke's warm and fuzzy reaction are pure gold! Looking at this illustration makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside too and I hope it has the same effect on you too!

Support banner by @cafekitsune

If you enjoyed this, it’d really make my day if you could drop a like, reblog, and/or comment to let me know! This illustration is also published on AO3 where you can comment anonymously! Although I mostly create for myself, your encouragement keeps me motivated to post and share my work.

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Two years had passed since Zenitsu and his best friends had retired from demon slaying, yet remnants of their former habits persisted. Every night, the trio congregated in Tanjirou's room, a space that he once shared with his siblings. With practised ease, they laid out their futons in a familiar line - Tanjirou nestled between Zenitsu and Inosuke, recreating the arrangement from their days of travel.

Inosuke had concocted a frivolous competition - whoever was first to spread their futon and snuggle into it would be the victor, and the laggard would have to endure his jeers of “Slowpoke” all night. Zenitsu thought it was a pointless game, but Inosuke and Tanjirou always competed with gusto. 

However, things had changed since Inosuke and Tanjirou became more than friends.

It was a frosty winter night, not long after they had confessed their feelings for each other. Inosuke took a bit longer than usual to set up his futon, a rare departure from his usual swift movements. He rolled out his futon, but then hovered over Tanjirou’s instead of getting into his own. With a second's edge, Tanjirou had laid claim to his spot and was preparing to savour his victory when Inosuke yanked his covers, nudging him roughly.

"Move over," Inosuke grunted, pushing Tanjirou aside and squeezing into the tight space left behind.

“Inosuke, what are you doing?” Tanjirou asked, amused by Inosuke’s unexpected behaviour. “This futon is too small for both of us.” 

Zenitsu, always a touch more astute than the silly couple when it came to matters of the heart, sensed an uneasy shift in the air. An ominous feeling struck him, and he cleared his throat loudly. But the pair seemed lost in their own world and took no notice. Inosuke crossed his arms, but his reddened face betrayed his shy affection. 

“It’s winter,” he huffed, as if that explained everything.

Tanjirou smiled indulgently at Inosuke’s stubbornness. “I see, so you need some warmth.” 

“You’re the one who needs it!” Inosuke retorted. 

Tanjirou chuckled softly and patted Inosuke’s shoulder congenially. “I’ll fetch extra blankets.” 

Tanjirou made to get up, but Inosuke held him down, wrapping an arm over him in a firm embrace. “You don’t need extra blankets, you’ve got me,” he said matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You're right,” Tanjirou replied, his initial amusement softening into tender affection.

Zenitsu, an unwilling bystander to the ongoing exchange, released a frustrated groan. He got into his own futon and aggressively rolled onto his side, pointedly facing away from the ludicrous lovers in annoyance. He tried to drown out the throbbing noise pulsating in his ears—the erratic beating of their hearts. Zenitsu had perfected the art of filtering heartbeats, but now, their hearts pounded like wild war drums, impossible to disregard. 

Contemplating retreating to a distant corner of the room, far from the oblivious couple to give them some space and spare himself from their affectionate antics, he was struck by a surge of indignation. Why was he always the one accommodating their behaviour? They were the ones being inconsiderate, disregarding his need for sleep. Driven by sheer defiance, he resolved to stand his ground, refusing to be dictated by their whims. 

Meanwhile, the rhythmic pulse of their heartbeats echoed in his ears, drowning out all other sounds. Fuming, Zenitsu lamented that his friends weren’t dozing off. He couldn’t help but wonder if they were exchanging doe-eyed looks or indulging in some soppy romance. Attempting to distract himself, Zenitsu counted imaginary chibi Nezuko-chans, successfully blocking out the heartbeat cacophony, until Inosuke disrupted the rhythm. 

“Quit fidgeting! I’m trying to sleep!” Inosuke snapped, his voice loud and gruff. 

Struggling to find sleep himself, Zenitsu muttered under his breath, “Yeah, me too. How about you return to your own futon?” 

Tanjirou whispered in a gentle tone, “I think that corner over there is warmer. Should we move?” 

A glimmer of gratitude sparked within Zenitsu; Tanjirou still had a modicum of decency. However, Inosuke swiftly dismissed the notion. 

“Nah. I’m too cosy here,” he said. 

Tanjirou sighed. “Alright, let’s just sleep then.

Zenitsu was startled by a sudden loud rustling from the futon next to him. His ears perked up, wondering what was going on. He heard Tanjirou gasp, followed by Inosuke’s anguished yell.

"Ow! Stupid Gompachiro! You just kneed me in the nuts!"

Zenitsu's eyebrows shot up in bewilderment. "What the heck are they doing?" he fretted.

Tanjirou, sounding flustered, protested, "Sorry! Don't just climb on me all of a sudden!"

Zenitsu felt a wave of queasiness. The mental image of Inosuke straddling Tanjirou was enough to make his eyes burn. He heard more chaotic shuffling from the futon, and hoped that Inosuke was getting back to his own bed. He held his breath and prayed silently. But his prayers were in vain, as Tanjirou’s voice rang out again.

“What are you doing? I thought you wanted to sleep!”

Zenitsu moaned to himself, “Oh god, god is dead and can’t hear my prayers.”

Inosuke bellowed with renewed vigour, his voice full of excitement. “I don't know what's gotten into me, but I’m suddenly wide awake!” 

Zenitsu scoffed internally. “Because your heart's thundering like a stampede and all the blood's rushing south!” 

“Not here! Zenitsu will…” 

Zenitsu never heard what Tanjirou thought he would do. His ears were assaulted by the sound of sloppy, wet kisses, muffling whatever Tanjirou was about to say. He thought the kisses sounded like someone had spilled a pot of soup on the floor and was slurping it up. 

Enough was enough. He couldn’t take it anymore. With a burst of adrenaline, he sprang up and dragged his futon across the room to the farthest corner, desperate to escape the noise of their intimacy. 

In his lonely corner, Zenitsu felt a pang of sorrow as he curled up and tried to drown out the sound of their passionate kisses. He wasn’t lonely, he told himself. He didn’t mind sleeping by himself. In fact, he preferred it to sharing a room with those two buffoons. They snored like a pair of boars, especially that pig-headed Inosuke. Girls, he thought, were much more refined in this regard. They didn’t snore. Well, he didn’t know about all girls, but he knew Nezuko didn’t. Even as a demon, she slept like a peaceful angel in her box, never making a peep.

Yes, he had Nezuko, and she was all he needed. But now she slept in a different room. Oh, how he wished he could join her, but he shuddered at the thought of Tanjirou’s fury. The glaring double standard gnawed at him and he felt a surge of anger at the unfairness of it all. Tanjirou and Inosuke could snuggle up in the same futon without anyone batting an eye, but the idea of him and Nezuko sleeping in the same room would be met with fierce resistance. All because she was a girl and they weren’t married. Curse this sexist feudal society.

“Sorry, Zenitsu!” Tanjirou apologised to him, after what felt like an eternity later. 

“Don’t worry about it, Tanjirou,” Zenitsu snorted, his voice high-pitched with indignation. “I’m happy for you and Inosuke. Really, I am.” 

“Thanks, Zenitsu. You’re a good friend,” Tanjirou said, completely missing his sarcasm. 

Zenitsu prayed that this was the end of their antics. He was never so relieved to hear pig-like snoring, a sound that was suddenly music to his ears.

*

The following morning, amidst the clatter of breakfast preparations, Tanjirou handed Zenitsu a bowl of rice, wearing a sheepish expression. 

“Sorry about last night, Zenitsu. I’ve spoken to Inosuke; it won’t happen again.” 

Zenitsu grunted, still groggy and cranky from the sleepless night. He locked eyes with Inosuke, who responded with a haughty look, as if he resented Zenitsu for whatever Tanjirou had discussed with him. Zenitsu knew apologies weren’t exactly Inosuke’s forte. In fact, he suspected they didn’t exist in the wild boar’s vocabulary. Judging by Inosuke’s attitude, he wasn’t holding his breath for a change. 

Nezuko breezed into the kitchen, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What happened last night?” 

“N-nothing," Tanjirou fibbed, his ears turning a shade of red that rivalled the sun at dawn. 

Nezuko narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Come on, you can tell me, nii-chan!” 

“Uh… Inosuke and I … caused some trouble for Zenitsu, so I was apologising for that.” 

“What kind of trouble?” Nezuko tilted her head, intrigued. 

Observing Tanjirou’s reddening face, Zenitsu sensed his struggle. He debated whether to complain to Nezuko. Doing so might humiliate Tanjirou and make him pay for his torture. However, Zenitsu also recognised that Tanjirou was shielding her from a similar discomfort Tanjirou had put him through. He also knew that Nezuko held Tanjirou in high regard, and he didn’t want to ruin her image of her beloved nii-chan. As Nezuko’s boyfriend, it was his duty to protect her and ensure her comfort and well-being above all.

“It’s nothing. Just Inosuke and Tanjirou snoring like boars all night, keeping me awake,” Zenitsu lied with a casual shrug. 

“Oh, poor you! You should take a nap later during lunch break,” Nezuko affectionately ruffled his hair. Turning to look at Tanjirou, who appeared visibly relieved, she said, “I didn’t think nii-chan would snore though. He never used to.” Then, giggling slightly, she added, “I heard that when couples get together, they tend to start mirroring each other. Nii-chan must be influenced by Inosuke. How sweet!” She clapped her hands together and gushed. 

“Of course! He’s my underling number one, after all. Of course, he follows me,” Inosuke boasted proudly, showing no sign of gratitude or remorse, Zenitsu noticed bitterly. 

Nezuko’s innocence and naivety would have him squealing “cute”, as always, if it weren’t at the cost of his own sleep, Zenitsu thought sourly. 

Well, he consoled himself, at least there might be a nap awaiting him later. He envisioned a scene on his favourite bench in the garden behind their eatery: Nezuko seated comfortably while he reclined beside her, resting his head on her lap as she tenderly tousled his hair. However, that vision wasn't a guaranteed reality. The thought of asking Nezuko for such an intimate gesture felt daunting; they'd only recently started dating. He yearned for her to take the initiative, but he feared it was too much to ask.

Envy bubbled within Zenitsu like a boiling kettle. Inosuke's unrestrained demands for affection made him squirm uncomfortably, while his own interactions with Nezuko remained restrained, limited to chaste hand-holding. He hesitated to pursue more, afraid of alarming her. 

Oh, if only he could borrow a smidgen of Inosuke’s thick boar hide instead of being cursed with his own hyper-sensitivity. Was Tanjirou tolerant of Inosuke’s boorish behaviour out of love, or did he secretly relish his boyfriend’s wildness? Regardless, he was sure that attempting Inosuke’s ways was a surefire way to upset both Nezuko and Tanjirou. In the past years, he had been frequently reminded to treat girls with respect, and he took it to heart. His mind raced back to their first meeting, where Tanjirou’s initial gaze made him feel like an insect under a magnifying glass. The memory was etched into his mind, and he swore never to experience such disdain again—especially from Nezuko. With Tanjirou slated to become his future brother-in-law, he needed to earn his blessing. For the sake of their shared happiness and the future he envisioned with Nezuko, he vowed to channel his inner gentleman.

Lost in this whirlpool of thoughts, Zenitsu suddenly felt Tanjirou's gaze, which sent a jolt of panic through him. Did his nose pick up on his inner turmoil? But Tanjirou just gazed at him with gratitude, his eyes filled with warmth and appreciation.

Zenitsu couldn't resist an eye-roll. "Save those starry-eyed looks for your idiot boyfriend."

*

Thereafter, their nightly routine took on a peculiar arrangement: Zenitsu secluded in one corner while Inosuke and Tanjirou formed a bundled duo at the other end of the room. Tanjirou always laid out an extra futon just in case Inosuke felt like having a bed to himself, but it lay neglected to one side, a silent witness to the former camaraderie that had shifted.

Zenitsu harboured a quiet hope that their nocturnal dynamic might return to its former familiarity after Tanjirou had the "talk" with Inosuke about their disruptive bedtime habits. He yearned for those nights where they'd lie together, bantering and sharing jokes. He even found himself nostalgic for Inosuke's juvenile futon-rolling contests.

Initially, it seemed Tanjirou's words had some impact. Nights passed quietly, granting Zenitsu peaceful slumber without any interruptions. Yet, this peace resembled cherry blossoms—beautiful but fleeting.

It always started the same way: Inosuke, starved for affection, would snuggle up to Tanjirou, trying to steal a kiss. Tanjirou, aware of Zenitsu’s presence, would gently rebuff him, cautioning, “Not now, Zenitsu can hear us.”

Zenitsu had transitioned through the stages of grief over losing his bedtime comrades, evolving into a resilient soul immune to the cringe of his awkward circumstances. Instead of feigning invisibility, he'd sarcastically quip, "Damn right, I can hear you loud and clear."

Sometimes, Inosuke's persistent affection would overcome Tanjirou's resistance. Swayed by his own desires, Tanjirou would reluctantly relent, saying, "Fine, but make it quick."

A brief exchange of affection would follow, interrupted by Zenitsu’s dramatic coughing fit. Inosuke, annoyed by the interference, would throw a pillow at him, yelling, “Shut up Monitsu!”, prompting Zenitsu to throw his own pillow too and yell back, “Go get a room!” 

Tanjirou would apologise profusely, begging for everyone to calm down and sleep, for fear of waking Nezuko up.

In an attempt to salvage the situation, Tanjirou brought in a divider, hoping to create some privacy. But it was a hopeless gesture. The divider did nothing to block Zenitsu’s hypersensitive hearing.

The temptation to seek refuge in the living room, the only other sleeping space, crossed Zenitsu’s mind more than once. But the living room, perfect for summer gatherings, was cold and draughty in winter unless he slept under the kotatsu. Zenitsu considered this idea, even though he knew it was not very comfortable. Maybe Nezuko would find him on her way to the bathroom and take pity on him. He fantasised about her inviting him to sleep in her room, the overwhelming happiness and shyness flooding him at the mere thought.

Eventually, Zenitsu gathered the courage to turn his fantasy into reality. One night, when he was sure that Tanjirou and Inosuke were asleep, he sneaked out of his futon and tiptoed toward the door. But he was stopped by Tanjirou’s voice, asking where he was going, saying he woke up when he smelled something fishy. Panicking slightly, Zenitsu blurted out the idea of sleeping under the kotatsu, though he managed to stop himself from rambling on about Nezuko in time. 

Tanjirou shot down the idea. “If anyone’s sleeping in the living room, that would be me!”  

The next day, he tried to lecture a stubborn and petulant Inosuke about the etiquette of public displays of affection, a lecture that would fall on deaf ears.

*

Zenitsu was determined to resolve the nocturnal turmoil in their sleeping arrangements once and for all. His solution was simple—build another room. Well, it was simple in theory, but he knew it would cost a lot, so he decided to work harder to boost the profits of the Wisteria Garden. He became a hawk-eyed accountant, making sure Tanjirou didn't get too generous with serving portions. He negotiated with suppliers, getting better deals to make every yen count.

For Tanjirou and Nezuko, the growth of the Wisteria Garden had never been a primary concern. Their focus was on maintaining a warm and happy environment for the townspeople while earning enough for their livelihoods. Zenitsu used to share this sentiment, preferring the idea of having free time to relax and enjoy dates with Nezuko. However, the urgency of his current goal transformed him into a driven man with a clear vision.

Zenitsu came up with crazy publicity ideas, each one more outrageous than the last. Inspired by Inosuke’s ability to charm women by showing off his chest, he suggested that the three of them go shirtless to attract more customers. He tried to persuade a sceptical Tanjirou, saying, “Women love men with battle scars. If they see the scars on your chest, they’ll go wild for you.” When Tanjirou frowned, he hastily added as an afterthought, “Your food, I mean.”

“But we’re a food business, not a show business. Let our food speak for itself,” Tanjirou said.

“Don’t be such a country bumpkin," Zenitsu scoffed. "You have to do both! That’s how they do it in the city…” 

But before Zenitsu could explain more about urban marketing, Nezuko angrily vetoed his idea. She snapped, “If you want to impress the ladies, you can parade naked in town for all I care. Just don’t drag our eatery down with you.” 

With that, she stormed off, leaving Zenitsu to clutch his chest in panic.

Inosuke, who was approaching them, looked alarmed as Nezuko passed by him.

“What’s wrong with her?” He asked, his face showing a rare sign of concern. But his sweaty bare chest glistened in the sun, making him look carefree and nonchalant, which annoyed Zenitsu.

"This is all your fault!" With a sob, Zenitsu dashed off, anxious to seek forgiveness from Nezuko.

Inosuke was the cause of all of this, Zenitsu thought in fury. Since he was such a poster boy, he would turn him into a literal poster boy!

*

Tanjirou was sweeping the entrance of the eatery with a cheerful smile when he spotted a familiar figure standing at the doorstep. It was Yushirou, holding an umbrella over his head, and an enclosed carrier in another hand with Chachamaru inside. Tanjirou was stunned to see him, as Yushirou rarely ventured out in the daylight, preferring to stay indoors and paint portraits of Lady Tamayo. He usually communicated with Tanjirou through letters, so his sudden appearance was quite a surprise.

Yushirou looked solemn, and explained that he had heard that the Wisteria Garden was struggling to stay open, and wanted to offer his support. Tanjirou was baffled, and replied, “Struggling? We’re not open yet. But we have a lot of customers for lunch and dinner every day.”

Yushirou’s face twisted into a scowl. “That’s not what Zenitsu said when he barged into my studio and interrupted my painting of Lady Tamayo to make me paint Inosuke instead.”

“What?!” Tanjirou gasped, clueless about what Zenitsu had done.

Yushirou, clearly irritated, switched to his cold and curt tone. “Since your business is doing fine and Kuro-chan isn’t starving, I’ll go back to my painting of Lady Tamayo. You’ve wasted enough of my precious time.”

With that, he turned his back on Tanjirou and walked away.

“Wait! Since you’re here, why not stay for lunch?” Tanjirou called out as he ran after them. He immediately regretted his words, knowing how Yushirou couldn’t eat human food. He wanted to apologise, but Yushirou disappeared from his sight, using his demon art to blend in with the surroundings. He heard Chachamaru give a faint grumpy meow, as though the cat was admonishing him too. 

Tanjirou sighed at his own blunder and wondered what Zenitsu had in mind when he asked Yushirou to paint Inosuke. He decided to go back and look for Zenitsu to get some answers. But as he turned around, he saw another group of unexpected guests. Kanao, Aoi, Sumi, Naho, and Kiyo had arrived. Springtime was the busiest season for their ryokan, so he was very surprised to see all of them here.

“We came to support you!” Sumi, Naho, and Kiyo chirped in unison, their voices high-pitched and cheerful as always.

“We heard that your business was in trouble. We just want to help,” Kanao said sincerely in her soft voice.

Tanjirou was touched by their kindness, but also confused by their concern. He was about to thank them and ask why they thought his business was in trouble, when he noticed Aoi holding a flyer with what seemed to be Inosuke’s face on it.

“Can I see that?” he asked.

Aoi handed the flyer to Tanjirou, and he scrutinised it closely. His eyes widened in disbelief. The flyer showcased an intricately detailed painting of Inosuke, unmistakably Yushirou’s handiwork, accompanied by the cheesy slogan: “Our food is as appetising as our staff!” As if that wasn't enough, there was a lucky draw event offering customers a chance to win a dinner date with the poster boy.

Tanjirou blinked repeatedly, hoping it was some prank or a mistake.

“We're not here for the lucky draw, obviously,” Aoi said, attempting to sound nonchalant but failing to mask the disdain in her voice. “Zenitsu sent us a bunch of these flyers with a letter, asking us to distribute them to our guests. We found it… well, let's say we found it quite peculiar and unexpected. We just thought… well, maybe you really needed more customers…” She trailed off sheepishly.

Tanjirou marched into the dining area, holding the flyer in his hand. He was followed by the girls, who looked bewildered. He spotted Zenitsu, who was sitting at a table, counting some coins, and shouted, “Zenitsu! What is the meaning of this!”

Zenitsu looked up, and his eyes widened when he saw the flyer. “Meaning of what, Tanjirou?” he asked, in a hopeless and feeble attempt to stall while trying to think of a plausible excuse to calm him down.

Inosuke, who was sitting next to him spinning a coin, grabbed the flyer from Tanjirou’s hand. He gawked at it, and exclaimed, “Is that me on the flyer?”

Zenitsu looked slightly panicked, and started to babble. “Oh! Wow, I didn’t know the crows delivered so fast. I was planning to explain to you all before that. You see, um, I had this brilliant idea to boost business. So uh Yushirou-san generously agreed with my idea and painted Inosuke’s picture and I designed and printed the flyers and had the crows distribute them. This way, customers all over Japan would get to know about our eatery. And oh don’t worry about the lucky draw, of course I don’t expect Inosuke to really dine with anyone. I’m sure he’d scare them away rather than attract their business. We don’t actually have to pick anyone, no one would notice.”

Tanjirou grimaced at him. “So you thought it was a good idea to use Inosuke’s image without his permission, lie to Yushirou-san and pressure him into painting Inosuke, and now you want to lie to all the customers as well.”

Zenitsu waved his hands frantically. “No, it’s not a lie, it’s just publicity, to lure people to come. It’s just a gimmick!”

Tanjirou shook his head, and said, “At Wisteria Garden, we serve our food with honesty. This is unacceptable. You have to take back all the flyers, explain that there is no lucky draw, and you need to apologise to Yushirou-san.”

But before Tanjirou could wrangle Zenitsu into any of that, a flock of young women that Tanjirou had never seen around town before flooded the doorstep, clearly smitten by the poster boy.

“He looks even better in person!” one of them squealed, elbowing her way to the front to get a closer look at Inosuke.

“Please, please, please, can you autograph my flyer?” another one begged, waving a piece of paper with Inosuke’s face on it.

The crowds kept streaming in all day, with new customers from near and far eager to catch a glimpse of the handsome poster boy. Inosuke, agitated by their constant stares, loud screams, and attempts to surround him, suddenly stormed out of the eatery and ran back home. He came back later, wearing his boar mask, and growled menacingly at anyone who dared to approach. Strangely, this bizarre behaviour only seemed to excite the customers, who thought that the lucky draw winner would get to see his face in person.

With Inosuke practically out of action, Tanjirou, Zenitsu and Nezuko were so overwhelmed that they couldn’t have managed it if not for their five friends from the Butterfly Mansion. Kanao, Aoi, Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho helped out with taking orders, serving food, and cleaning up. They also offered complimentary snacks and drinks to the customers who got impatient with the long waits.

Throughout the day, their friends came to show their concern. Giyuu reminded Tanjirou that he was always available, even if he didn’t reply to letters. Urokodaki said he didn’t understand what young people were thinking these days, but if they were hard up, they should have told him and he would have been happy to let them use his retirement savings. Sanemi bluntly told him that the flyer reeked of desperation and made him cringe. 

Tanjirou, deeply touched by his friends’ care and mortified by their perceived disappointment in him, found himself constantly apologising to everyone. He shot angry glares at Zenitsu and seized any chance to scold him, while Zenitsu tried to sneak away. Only Tengen seemed to appreciate Zenitsu’s ingenuity. 

“This is quite flamboyant. I might just have to try it for my grapevine business,” he mused. Zenitsu was secretly pleased by Tengen’s praise, but he kept quiet, not wanting to admit that he had taken inspiration from Tengen’s idea of putting his own face on his grape and wine products, after he had ridiculed him for it.

For days and weeks after that, they were kept busy by the influx of customers. Inosuke remained largely hostile to the customers, but fortunately, they liked the food enough to come back. Tanjirou eventually stopped being mad at Zenitsu when he saw how their neighbouring businesses benefited from the extra customers that Zenitsu’s flyers had brought.

Zenitsu hadn’t expected his idea to be such a roaring success, despite the unimpressed reaction from his friends. He didn’t really care for their disapproval, but he was most worried about Nezuko, whom he was sure shared her brother’s righteousness and could be needlessly stubborn sometimes. 

Fortunately, while she initially scolded him, she also said, “I know you meant well, Zenitsu. But this is not the way we do things at Wisteria Garden. We don’t need to deceive or trick anyone to get them to come. We just need to serve our food with honesty and love. Do you understand?” 

Zenitsu nodded eagerly, relieved that she wasn’t too angry with him. 

She then warned him, “Don’t ever do this again, or anything like this. Or else I won’t talk to you for a week.” 

Zenitsu shuddered at the thought, and quickly agreed.

*

Zenitsu had no need for any more dubious schemes. Business was flourishing to the point where they could hardly keep up. He persevered in his hard work, and by the year’s end, they found themselves with a sizable surplus. After expanding the eatery and hiring additional staff - former members of the Demon Slayers Corps - they still had funds to extend their home. The new addition was an extra room: Zenitsu’s own haven. Located farthest from the shared room with Inosuke and Tanjirou, it even came with soundproofing features.

Tanjirou congratulated Zenitsu for having worked the hardest among them that year, and agreed that he deserved the room so he could have better rest. Despite frowning upon Zenitsu’s questionable publicity stunt, Tanjirou appreciated the good intentions behind it and praised Zenitsu’s hard work in other areas. 

“I know you’ve been working so hard to prove your worth to Nezuko and I want to tell you that you have my blessings,” Tanjirou said, smiling warmly at Zenitsu. 

Zenitsu tried hard not to feel guilty about this. Besides, Tanjirou wasn’t completely wrong. Nezuko was undoubtedly important, so was his sanity. He couldn’t care for her without preserving his mental well-being.

When the room was finally completed, Zenitsu cried tears of joy. It was a spacious and cosy haven, a personal paradise away from the noisy outside world.

The back of the room faced the backyard, and while there wasn’t a window, he could open the back door to peer outside. In this season, the wisteria bloomed, filling the air with a sweet fragrance. Excited at the prospect, he envisioned inviting Nezuko to spend romantic afternoons sipping tea and enjoying sweets while gazing at the blooming flowers. He pictured how he would hold her hand, caress her hair, and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. He imagined how she would giggle and smile bashfully in response. He dreamed of how he would lean in and kiss her softly, making her blush and melt in his arms.

He slid open the back door, looking forward to savouring his new scenery. His excitement crumbled into dismay as he found himself gazing at the backs of Inosuke and Tanjirou, locked in an intimate embrace and sharing passionate kisses on the porch. 

Zenitsu wept silent tears as he closed the door. On the bright side, the soundproofing had worked flawlessly; he hadn’t heard a thing. Determined, he resolved to work even harder, striving to buy a new house, marry Nezuko, and escape the company of the insufferable couple.

Next story in the series: Love Bugs (Link TBA) or read it on AO3

「 ✦ Please support your creators by reblogging ✦ 」

Author's Notes: This fic was originally meant to be a precursor to an Inotan smut fic (yes, diving into the deep end, for better or worse!). I mean, Inosuke and Tanjirou needed their private space, right? Especially considering Zenitsu's hypersensitive hearing. So I wanted to give an explanation on how Zenitsu got his own room. However, the storyline was getting lengthy, so I decided to make it a standalone fic and explore Zenitsu's discomfort with his roommates' antics. While writing it, Zenitsu's marketing idea popped into my mind (He and Tengen are businessmen ahead of their time!), allowing me to casually name-drop some of Tanjirou’s pals who are still around. They all remain good friends, keeping in touch.

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It had been two years since Inosuke had taken up his customer-facing role at the Wisteria Garden, a cozy eatery that Tanjirou and Nezuko had inherited from their kind-hearted neighbour. Nestled in the heart of a charming town near their mountain home, the eatery was a haven for food lovers, who flocked to taste the simple but scrumptious dishes that the Kamado siblings whipped up with fresh ingredients from the local farms.

But the food was not the only attraction. Ever since Inosuke ditched his fearsome boar mask, he had also become a feast for the eyes. He attracted many admirers, especially young ladies, with his stunning face and muscular physique. Zenitsu teased him relentlessly, calling him the “walking signboard” because of his striking looks.

Inosuke was annoyed and uneasy by the constant attention, the bold stares from customers, and the palpable adoration that dripped from the young women who made the place their regular hangout. He felt like they were invading his privacy and mocking his pride. He would scowl back at them with his usual intensity, hoping to frighten them away. But to his vexation, his frowns only seemed to make them more thrilled. They would titter and flush, then glance away shyly, only to sneak another peek at him later.

Inosuke eventually learned to ignore them, or at least bear with them. He realised that they didn’t mean any harm, and that they were just showing their appreciation in their own way. He also knew that Tanjirou would be disappointed if Inosuke caused any trouble with the customers. Tanjirou was not only his loyal underling, but also his boyfriend, and Inosuke cared about him more than anything, even if he didn’t always show it.

But then, a new customer appeared, one who challenged Inosuke like no other. She wore a kimono that blended Western and Eastern styles, with delicate lace and fur accents that made her stand out from the crowd. She accessorised her outfit with lace gloves, a beaded purse, and a felt hat that sat on her short, stylish haircut. Instead of geta, she wore shoes with slender, towering heels that looked like needles. They seemed absurdly impractical for walking, but she strutted with confidence. To shield herself from the sun’s rays, she carried a parasol, which she propped against the table. During a brief chat with Zenitsu, she revealed that she had just returned from studying abroad in a distant country with a name too complex for him to remember. She also mentioned that her father owned the coffee shop two streets away.

This strange customer never blinked under Inosuke’s fierce gaze; instead, she matched it with her own. She always found a reason to call Inosuke over, whether it was to refill her water, bring more condiments, ask about the menu, or just make small talk. It made Inosuke feel like he was being bossed around, which rubbed him the wrong way. She seemed to occupy the eatery around the clock, showing up for both lunch and dinner. Inosuke had faced some of the most terrifying demons in the land during his demon-slaying days and never backed down, but this woman unnerved him.

Inosuke despised her attitude. He felt like she was taunting him, or trying to manipulate him somehow. He wanted to snap at her, or better yet, punch her in the face. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He didn’t want to let down Tanjirou, who always reminded him to be polite and courteous towards the customers. So Inosuke decided to seek some advice from Zenitsu instead.

“Ugh, that woman is still staring at me,” Inosuke complained, his voice laced with annoyance. “She’s been doing it for a week now. Her eyes make my skin crawl, like she wants to eat me or something.”

Zenitsu rolled his eyes. He was well aware of Inosuke’s popularity among the customers, thanks to his handsome appearance. It was nothing new; it had been happening ever since Inosuke retired his boar mask two years ago. Zenitsu had lost count of how many times he had to soothe him, saying, “They’re staring because they find you attractive. It’s a compliment. Just ignore it or something.”

Besides, the woman in question was quite a beauty herself, even if she seemed arrogant. The way she dressed and acted reminded him of the wealthy and fashionable ladies from the city. Shouldn’t Inosuke be flattered by such attention? Zenitsu couldn’t help but wonder if Inosuke was secretly fishing for compliments.

Zenitsu’s mind drifted back to when they first started working at the Wisteria Garden. At first, Inosuke had tried to be polite to the customers, albeit with evident discomfort. But it didn’t last long before his impatience and rudeness resurfaced.

Zenitsu vividly remembered the day Inosuke slammed a menu onto a table occupied by a group of giggling girls who were ogling him. The loud bang had startled Zenitsu, and he rushed over to apologise to the customers, fearing they would be angry. To his surprise, the girls laughed even harder, exclaiming, “He’s even cuter when he’s mad!”

Such incidents became more frequent, with Inosuke growing more insolent in his behaviour. He snapped at customers who took too long to order and scolded those who wasted any food. To Zenitsu’s confusion, the customers asked for Inosuke’s name, not to report his poor service, but to request him again when they came back. It seemed that having a pretty face gave Inosuke a license to be nasty, while the girls kept swooning over him. Meanwhile, Zenitsu had done his best to be friendly and sociable with customers, only to get lukewarm reactions in comparison.

“Some people are just shallow,” Zenitsu muttered under his breath. “Thank goodness Nezuko-chan is different from them.”

“Hey!” Inosuke waved his hand in front of Zenitsu, snapping him out of his daydream. Zenitsu realised that he had zoned out while Inosuke was ranting.

"Well, I'm sure you can handle it," Zenitsu said flatly.

“What?!” Inosuke roared, stunned by Zenitsu’s indifferent response.

"Zenitsu," Nezuko chided, having overheard their conversation. Her tone was gentle but reproachful. "Inosuke needs your help. How can you be so dismissive?"

"I don't need any help!" Inosuke protested. “I just remember Tanjirou telling me to talk to Zenitsu if customers get out of hand.”

“I think you’re the one who’s out of hand,” Zenitsu retorted.

Inosuke was momentarily speechless, struggling to convey his discomfort in the face of Zenitsu’s apathy. Nezuko intervened once more.

"Zenitsu, you're being unfair. That woman is really creepy, and she practically lives here. If someone was stalking me like that, I'd be freaked out too."

Zenitsu's protective instincts flared, and he declared, eyes popping and veiny, "Don't worry, Nezuko-chan. If someone stalks you, I'll gouge out their eyes."

Nezuko smiled. "That's a bit over the top, but all I'm saying is, you should consider Inosuke's feelings."

Zenitsu turned sour again. "You're my girlfriend, so it's different. Inosuke is a man, and he's our boss, as he always reminds us. He can take care of himself."

Inosuke felt his anger rising. Zenitsu was being more of a hindrance than a help. He should have never asked him in the first place.

"Of course, I can take care of myself," he snarled, rolling up his haori sleeves menacingly.

"Umm, Inosuke? What are you going to do?" Nezuko asked nervously, as she watched Inosuke storm toward the woman who still stared at him.

"I'm going to punch her eyes out."

*

Tanjirou had been swamped in the kitchen, churning out the endless list of orders, but he abandoned his usual post when Nezuko came to alert him of the latest situation. He had a mission to accomplish, to confront the brazen woman who had been plaguing Inosuke’s life.

As he stepped into the dining area, he saw Zenitsu wrestling to hold back Inosuke, who was clearly on the edge of committing an act of violence. With a calm and reassuring nod, Tanjirou caught Inosuke’s eye. He flashed a thumbs-up and mouthed, “Leave it to me.”

The signal seemed to work like magic, instantly calming Inosuke’s frayed nerves. The wild, raging fury in his face gave way to a sense of relief and trust, and Zenitsu loosened his grip with a sigh of gratitude.

He approached the customer’s table, putting on a polite smile, and asked, “How’s the food today, miss? Is everything to your liking?”

Her response was less than satisfactory. With a subtle roll of her eyes, she acknowledged the question but made it clear that her primary interest was elsewhere. She wasn’t here for the food; her focus was still fixed on Inosuke, the unwilling target of her relentless gaze.

Tanjirou, leaning slightly forward, decided to get straight to the point. “I noticed you’ve been staring at our friend Inosuke quite persistently,” he said, his tone courteous but firm. “It’s making him very uncomfortable, and frankly, it’s a form of harassment.”

With an arrogant tilt of her head, she crossed her arms, adopting a stance of defiance. “Well, it’s my right to look at whatever catches my eye,” she snapped, her words carried an air of entitlement.

Tanjirou decided to appeal to her sense of empathy. “How would you feel if someone stared at you in the same way?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Without a second’s hesitation, she replied with a wicked smirk, “Oh, if it were someone as handsome as Inosuke, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Tanjirou blinked, momentarily stunned by her brazen response. But he quickly regained his composure, realising that this woman was far too bold and thick-skinned for subtleties. Clearing his throat, he decided to assert his authority.

“We really aim to make Wisteria Garden a comfortable and welcoming place for everyone, whether you’re part of our little family here or a guest. I’d appreciate it if you could help us maintain that friendly atmosphere. But if you can’t, I might have to politely ask you to leave.”

The woman’s expression changed, and for a moment, Tanjirou thought he saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. But then she straightened her back and lifted her chin, a defiant spark returning to her gaze. The showdown was far from over.

“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out,” she spat, her voice seething with contempt. “And for what? This ignorant boar who can barely string a sentence together? He’s just a waiter, and one with a horrible attitude. He’s only getting by because of his pretty face. He should be thankful that someone like me even bothers to look at him. In fact, who cares about being part of your family here? I’m the one paying you, after all. How dare you put me on the same level as you peasants.” 

Tanjirou felt his normally warm and patient demeanor shift into a boiling anger. He squared his shoulders and locked onto her gaze with unyielding intensity.

“You know,” he began, his voice steady but edged with the unmistakable weight of his fury, “his attitude might seem horrible to you, but maybe it’s because your own attitude is disrespectful. We all work incredibly hard to ensure our customers enjoy their meals here.”

As Tanjirou spoke, the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant changed subtly. The lively chatter that had filled the air before died down to a faint murmur, casting a heavy silence over the room. Customers, who had been engrossed in their meals and conversations, turned their attention to the unfolding confrontation. The room seemed to hold its breath as Tanjirou’s words took effect, and the surprise in the customer’s eyes was obvious. Clearly, no one had ever spoken to her like this before.

He took a step closer, his voice firm and full of conviction. "We pour our hearts into what we do. Our days are long, our feet barely touch the ground, and we’re often the last ones to sit down and have a meal. Every single person who works in the food trade, regardless of their role, works hard to ensure that you, our customers, never go hungry at any time of the day. But being a customer doesn’t make you right or superior to everyone else. If having more education than others makes you think that you’re better than anyone else, I’m afraid that education is wasted on you.”

Tanjirou paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before continuing. "And let me make it clear, Inosuke is more than just a waiter. It’s a respectable role, no matter what you may think. But to set the record straight, he’s also the boss here, and that specialty tempura hotpot you’ve been enjoying for days? It’s his idea. He’s intelligent, diligent, and driven, constantly challenging himself to improve. He’s not the ‘good for nothing’ you make him out to be, relying only on his looks. In fact, Inosuke is an extraordinary person, far more than you can imagine. He’s brave, loyal, and big-hearted. He’s always there for me and our friends. We couldn’t do without him here at the Wisteria Garden. Or in every way, really."

Tanjirou’s words had struck a chord, and for the first time, doubt clouded her unwavering confidence. The once-arrogant expression now faltered, and a flicker of uncertainty danced in her eyes. But beneath it all, fury still smoldered, manifesting in the fiery flush of her cheeks and the tremble of her lips.

Despite her angry expression, Tanjirou’s keen sense of smell told him that the woman felt more shame than rage. The telltale scent of embarrassment wafted from her, mingling with the remnants of her anger, creating a complex olfactory tapestry. He understood that his words had not only challenged her arrogance but had also touched a nerve, making her confront her own behaviour.

With a touch of satisfaction, Tanjirou continued, his voice stern but not unkind, “That’s all I have to say. I hope you take a moment to reflect on it. Now, I’d kindly ask you to apologise to Inosuke.”

The customer’s face underwent a rapid transformation, shifting from initial embarrassment to evident surprise, before ultimately settling into an expression of sheer indignation. Her nostrils flared, and her lips twisted into a deep scowl, as if the very idea of uttering an apology was an affront to her pride.

With a heavy sigh, Tanjirou said, “If that’s too much to ask, please consider leaving and never coming back.” He gestured toward the exit, feeling a pang of disappointment in his chest.

The woman didn’t waste a second. She snatched her purse and parasol and stormed towards the door, her needle-like heels clicking loudly against the wood floor.

Senjurou, who had been quietly watching the spectacle over his meal, couldn’t contain himself any longer. He stood up and clapped vigorously, his applause soon joined by other patrons in the eatery.

Tanjirou, slightly embarrassed by the unexpected applause, managed a sheepish smile. “Sorry for the interruption,” he said, bowing slightly to the customers, before heading back to the kitchen.

As he walked away, he noticed his companions watching him. Zenitsu had a look of genuine awe on his face, while Nezuko’s eyes sparkled with admiration. Even Inosuke, known for his pride and bravado, seemed slightly abashed by the high praise Tanjirou had given him, his cheeks tinged with a faint rosy hue, a rare moment of vulnerability that only Tanjirou’s words could elicit.

*

Back in the kitchen, Tanjirou's heart still raced with the lingering effects of the confrontation. He leaned against the counter, pondering the exchange he'd just had with the insolent customer. His parents had always taught him to be kind and respectful, especially towards women. The fact that he had to address her so firmly troubled him. He also couldn't shake off the disappointment of not being able to make her understand her mistake and apologise to Inosuke. Despite his upbringing, Tanjirou knew the world wasn't pure and kind; he had seen people turn into literal demons, and witnessed them trample on those they deemed weaker. In a timeline when demons no longer roamed, Zenitsu's occasional rants about the condescending and deceitful people he encountered during his childhood in the city reminded him that not everyone was kind. However, he had grown so comfortable with the kindness and warmth of their humble little town that this encounter had genuinely caught him off guard.

As he stood there lost in thought, Kuro-chan, their resident black cat, emerged from under a nearby chair. The commotion outside had clearly sent the feline seeking refuge. It nuzzled against Tanjirou's leg, seeking comfort. Automatically, he scratched the cat's little head, feeling some of the tension within him dissipate.

Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Inosuke soon filed into the kitchen, interrupting Tanjirou from his reverie.

"Don't be mad," Zenitsu said, flashing a sheepish grin. His sharp hearing had obviously picked up on Tanjirou's elevated heartbeats. "I think you did really well. Even I would have yelled at her."

Nezuko nodded enthusiastically. "That was an amazing speech. You made me realise and feel proud of the hard work we put in for our customers. And it was so romantic the way you defended Inosuke and called him extraordinary. Awww."

Zenitsu couldn't resist teasing. "My goosebumps were all over the floor, you know." He made a face and rubbed his arms as though trying to shake off an imaginary chill.

Tanjirou sighed, his disappointment lingering. "I just wished she understood where she went wrong and apologised to Inosuke."

Zenitsu, ever the realist, crossed his arms. "Well, Inosuke needs to know that he can't always get his way.” With a sly grin, he turned to Inosuke and added, "That woman rattled you because, for once, you met your match. She's obnoxious, cocky, rude and unapologetic. Perhaps you'll take this as an opportunity to reflect on yourself and learn to be more appreciative and kind to our other customers, eh?"

Inosuke, however, held his head high, a contemptuous gleam in his brilliant emerald eyes as he declared haughtily, "Not a chance! It's their good fortune to be in the presence of me, extraordinary Hashibira Inosuke, King of Mountains, and your boss."

"Why, you!” Zenitsu shot an exasperated glance at Tanjirou. “Look at what you've done! All that praise inflated his thick boar head!"

"I don't care what you or that woman says," Inosuke declared, his chest puffed up with pride. "Tanjirou said I'm extraordinary, and he's completely right!"

"Your rudeness is extraordinary!" Zenitsu snapped back.

Tanjirou watched their playful banter, feeling his spirits lift. Inosuke's pride was as untamable as the wild boars he'd grown up with, but that was what made him unique. Tanjirou always felt that Inosuke was a genius in his own right. He had thrived in the wilderness, learned to converse despite never attending any formal school, and even invented his own breathing technique and mastered it. If circumstances had been different, he might have been a revered Hashira from a young age, much like Muichirou. 

"But then, he wouldn't be my Inosuke, the Inosuke I know and love," Tanjirou shook his head, smiling to himself.

*

A few mornings later, as they bustled around, getting the eatery ready for the lunch shift, Zenitsu burst into the kitchen with an urgent tone. "Hey, guess what? That rude woman from the other day is back!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying a mix of excitement and trepidation.

Inosuke, who had been engrossed in sharpening knives, immediately tensed up at the mention of the troublesome visitor. Tanjirou offered a reassuring pat on Inosuke's shoulder.

"It's alright, Inosuke. I'll handle it," he assured his boyfriend before confidently striding out of the kitchen towards the woman. She stood somewhat awkwardly at the entrance, an anxious expression on her face, fidgeting with the straps of her bag as she waited.

Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Nezuko hurriedly followed behind, with Zenitsu hissing at Inosuke to put the knives away.

Sensing that she had none of that haughty demeanour and anger from previously, Tanjirou spoke gently, "Good morning, miss. What brings you here today?"

She looked up, a sense of remorse in her eyes. "I'm not here to make trouble," she began, her voice sincere. "I came to apologise to Inosuke-san and all of you." She held up a large paper bag with both hands. 

“Coffee beans!” Zenitsu remarked as he glanced inside the bag.

“Yes, they’re coffee beans.” She nodded humbly. “It’s a small gift as a token of my apology."

Inosuke glared at the peace offering. "How do we know you haven't laced it with anything weird?" he grumbled, clearly still wary of her intentions.

The woman's expression remained earnest. "I'm truly sincere about this. My father personally brewed these beans. He owns the coffee shop just a couple of streets away from here." Her gaze briefly shifted in the direction of her father's coffee shop. "I would never do anything to tarnish his good name."

“He's worked tirelessly to raise me and send me abroad. But he never allowed me to work alongside him, because he knew how grueling it was,” she continued. “Until that day we had our uhh… talk, I never had any interest in the workings of his shop. But after that, I went to watch him at work. He spent the entire day on his feet, working side by side with his employees, even though he's the boss. He stayed late every night, and wouldn't leave until the last employee did." She looked slightly pained, and her voice carried a mix of astonishment and remorse. "I realised how wrong I was. I'm deeply sorry for my words, and I genuinely appreciate you enlightening me. I promise to treat all workers with respect from now on. And I hope my behaviour doesn’t affect your impression of my father." She bowed her head in contrition.

Tanjirou accepted the bag with a kind smile. "Your father must be gentle person," he said.

"Eh?" the woman looked at him in surprise.

"Because you have a fine upbringing, and you're inherently kind and brave," Tanjirou continued. "You’ve shown a lot of courage and humility by coming here today and apologising."

He smiled at her, a warm and dazzling smile this time, sending her cheeks into a radiant flush. 

"Um, I think you're a gentle person too!" she blurted out suddenly. "Will you go out with me?"

Tanjirou furrowed his brows, taken aback by the unexpected confession. "What? Miss, I thought you agreed with what we discussed that day..."

She interrupted him, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Oh, but I'm not going to harass you! I’ll leave now, but I'll come and find you when you close for the day!"

Before Tanjirou could formulate a rejection, a commotion erupted behind him. He turned to see Zenitsu and Nezuko desperately trying to restrain Inosuke, who was brandishing his knives like they were swords.

"Calm down, Inosuke! Murder is a crime!" Zenitsu cried out.

"Please let Nii-chan handle this!" Nezuko pleaded.

Inosuke barked, "He's mine! Scram or I'll cut your eyes out!"

The woman, quickly piecing together the situation, apologised profusely and bolted out of the door.

“All right, all right, I’m sure she got the message,” Tanjirou said, attempting to pacify Inosuke as he bellowed from the doorway, his voice echoing long after the woman's kimono vanished from view.  A few curious neighbours from the nearby shops peeked their heads out, wondering what the commotion was about. Tanjirou and Nezuko gently guided him back inside to sit down.

"Phew, let's hope we don't have any more customers like her," Nezuko sighed, shaking her head.

"It's a shame though, she did seem genuinely remorseful," Tanjirou pondered, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

“Well, don’t go casually flirting with customers then, dummy,” Zenitsu snarked. 

"I wasn't flirting with her!" Tanjirou protested, his expression a blend of incredulity and innocence. "She looked genuinely sorry and downcast. I just wanted to cheer her up!"

Zenitsu let out a theatrical sigh. "I put in so much effort to cheer up the ladies, but why does none of them want to harass me or ask me out? Oh, Nezuko-chan, don’t get me wrong, it was just a slip of the tongue!” he cried out. But Nezuko had already turned away, shooting him a withering look before heading to the kitchen.

“Zenitsu, you really need to stop saying things like that. You know Nezuko cares for you deeply.” Tanjirou admonished.

“I know that, I know that!” Zenitsu sobbed. “It was just a momentary lapse! How can you scold me when this is all your fault and Inosuke’s fault anyway!”

"I should put on my boar head again. Everyone in this town already knows me anyway," Inosuke declared, his voice laced with impulsiveness.

"No, please don’t! I love seeing your face. It gives me strength on a tough day at work," Tanjirou said earnestly.

Inosuke's face lit up with pride and satisfaction. “Fine. I won’t wear it, then, if it helps my best underling do well at work.”

"I think you should wear it. Your face irritates me," Zenitsu deadpanned.

“I don’t care what you think, Monitsu,” Inosuke retorted, sticking his tongue out in defiance. “And another thing…” With a swift and unexpected move, he leaned in, capturing Tanjirou's lips in a passionate kiss. He felt Tanjirou’s surprise turn into delight as he kissed him back eagerly. When he pulled back, he flashed a smug grin.  “See? I can’t do that with the head on. And that wouldn’t be fair for an extraordinary boyfriend like me.”

Tanjirou, used to Inosuke’s spontaneous nature, just smiled and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer. He looked into his eyes and said softly, “You’re right. You’re an extraordinary boyfriend, and I love you just the way you are.” He leaned in and gave him another kiss, this time more tender and sweet.

“You’re both revolting!” Zenitsu shrieked, rubbing his arms as if they were covered in slime. “Nezuko-chaaan! I’m sorry! Please forgive me, don’t leave me alone with them!” He sprinted into the kitchen, leaving the two lovers to their own devices.

The audacious customer never showed up at their eatery again. But a pleasant surprise followed. They started getting regular bento lunch orders from the nearby coffee shop. The young lady boss had introduced a new benefit for her staff, offering them free meals, not only at the Wisteria Garden, but also at other local eateries.

And so, life went on at the Wisteria Garden, where tasty food and warm smiles were always on the menu, where respect and friendship were cherished above all else, and where love kept on growing.

Next story in the series: Sleeping Together

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Author's Notes: This fic is a little different from what I usually write. It was inspired by a bunch of things. First, there was the great resignation that happened during the Covid period, when many F&B workers quit their jobs to seek better pay and conditions. I remember coming across a post by servers complaining that they were frequently hit on at work. So I decided to incorporate these ideas in this fic. I also had an idea about the characters running a Tsundere Cafe in the high school AU setting. I lost interest in that, but I still wanted to incorporate my idea of the kind of server Inosuke would be, so this fic came about! I think it was timely, considering that we’re venturing into “this fic was supposed to be based in the restaurant but nothing happens in the restaurant” territory lmao.

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At breakfast time, Inosuke stormed into the kitchen, ignoring Tanjirou’s worried questioning. He sat down on the dining chair, slammed his boar mask on the table and grabbed a bowl of rice. He lifted a spoonful to his mouth, but almost dropped it when Nezuko let out a squeal.

 “Your nose is bleeding!” she cried, pointing at him with wide eyes.

“Has it not stopped since just now?” Tanjirou exclaimed, his voice laced with alarm.

"Have you tried stopping it with Total Concentration Breathing?" Zenitsu chimed in.

"I’m fine!" Inosuke bellowed, wiping the blood away roughly with the back of his hand. "Let me eat my breakfast in peace!"

He resumed his eating, shoveling food into his mouth as fast as he could. He felt his friends’ eyes on him, watching him with unease. He could sense Tanjirou’s gaze the most, burning into him with concern. Tanjirou hadn’t even touched his own food because he was too busy looking at Inosuke with worry. It made Inosuke eat even faster, as if he could escape from Tanjirou’s attention by finishing his meal. Just as he swallowed his last bite, Tanjirou got up and walked towards him.

Inosuke tensed up, ready to fight or flee. “What do you want now?” he snapped, backing away as Tanjirou’s face came closer.

“I just want to look at your nose,” Tanjirou said softly.

“No! Go away!” Inosuke resisted.

Tanjirou’s expression faltered. “Is it something I did?”

“Of course not! What could you possibly do to me?”

Of course, it had nothing to do with stupid Monjirou. Absolutely nothing. Okay, fine, maybe he had imagined his stupid face a little while touching himself earlier in the bathroom, but that was just a ridiculous side effect of those stupid pictures. It was bad enough that Tanjirou made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Inosuke had learned to live with that. Now he had to deal with Tanjirou’s power to make him nosebleed from a distance.

“All right, if you won’t let me look at it, will you at least go to the doctor?” Tanjirou pleaded.

“Why should I? I’m fine!” Inosuke retorted.

“Listen, you really should get it checked out,” Zenitsu piped up. “Having a nosebleed from looking at or thinking about porn isn’t normal. If that were the case, I’d be bleeding to death by now.”

Nezuko furrowed her eyebrows, and Zenitsu hastily corrected himself. “Uh… I was exaggerating. Just trying to persuade him to see a doctor.”

“But I’m not sick!” Inosuke protested, sounding panicked.

“Don’t worry, it’s probably nothing,” Tanjirou soothed him, reaching out to put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Inosuke jumped away, and Tanjirou apologised. Turning to Zenitsu, he said, “Um… could it be that he’s reacting like this because it’s his first time seeing that kind of stuff? You know how sensitive he is…”

Inosuke felt his blood surge inside him. “Shut up, Gompachirou!” he screamed, waving his arms and stamping his feet. “This is all your fault! Don’t act like you know anything!”

Tanjirou swallowed, clearly stung by the accusation. He started to apologise, but Nezuko intervened.

"There, there, Inosuke," Nezuko said. "You can't blame Nii-chan for this. How was he supposed to know that our neighbours would have a collection of erotic art lying around?"

"Yeah, and let's not forget, you were the one who opened the box," Zenitsu quipped.

“No, it’s definitely my fault. I’m so sorry, Inosuke,” Tanjirou apologised again. “I should have thoroughly checked all the rooms before we started cleaning. I’m just relieved that it wasn’t Nezuko who stumbled upon the stash. Thank goodness for that. If we ever do house-cleaning for the neighbours again, I swear I’ll search every corner and crevice.”

Inosuke let out a frustrated snort. They were all off the mark, but he supposed it was still better than them knowing the truth.

“You don’t have to tell the doctor why you’re bleeding,” Tanjirou continued. “He’ll just check your nose, diagnose you and give you something to stop the symptoms.”

“Fine! I’ll go!” Inosuke snapped. He doubted that the doctor could help him if Tanjirou was the reason for his nosebleed. But it would at least stop Tanjirou from fussing and give him a chance to escape from him.

“But I don’t want you to come with me!” He told Tanjirou, his eyes avoiding his. “Anyone but you!”

“Not you too!” he protested when Nezuko offered. Nezuko had a knack for getting him to listen to her and subsequently do as she requested. He was afraid he’d blurt out his secret to her if she asked.

Which left...

“Tanjirooou! He almost broke my nose and didn’t even apologise, and now I have to take him to the doctor?” Zenitsu whined. Inosuke knew this was Zenitsu’s revenge for him threatening to expose his secret. Zenitsu was such a spiteful guy.

“I don’t need you to take me! I can go myself!”

“No, you can’t!!! You’ll freak out in the crowds and end up getting lost! And even if you do make it there, you’ll speak nonsense to the doctor and then punch him because he can’t understand you,” Zenitsu sobbed.

“Come on, Inosuke,” Nezuko coaxed. “Just apologise to Zenitsu and let him take you to the doctor, alright? Stop making us worry about you.”

Inosuke wavered for a moment, torn between his stubbornness and the sincere concern he saw in Nezuko’s eyes. A twinge of guilt settled upon him, as he realised that this wasn’t just about him. His best friends were worried about him too. As always, Nezuko had a way of reaching him, her words finding a path to his obstinate heart. Reluctantly, he gave in.

“Fine! Sorry, Monitsu!” Inosuke spat out. He quickly put his boar mask back over his head and ran toward the door.

“That’s not even my name,” Zenitsu sighed, but he got up and followed him.

*

At the doctor’s office, Zenitsu took the lead, describing when and where the nosebleeds began and how often they occurred, carefully leaving out any mention of the scrolls. The doctor asked Inosuke to take off his mask and prodded around his nostrils, making Inosuke wriggle uncomfortably. He almost punched the doctor, but Zenitsu held his arms, reminding him over and over that the King of Mountains should be brave and not mind a little prodding, much to the doctor’s bemusement. He felt an immense wave of relief when he could finally put his mask back on.

“You mentioned that the nosebleeds began while you were cleaning in the storeroom? Was there a lot of dust?” the doctor asked.

“Yeah, those damn books, they make me sneeze every time I flip a page,” Inosuke answered. He felt a nagging itch and unconsciously brought his hand to his nose, rubbing it slightly.

“And I suppose you rub your nose after you sneeze.”

“Obviously? It really itches.”

"Is it unusual for you to come into contact with dust?"

“Of course! I grew up among wild boars, and Tanjirou keeps our house really clean.” Inosuke said with a hint of pride.

The doctor gave him a weird look but returned to writing notes.

“Alright. Based on my examination and the information you gave, I can conclude that your nose was sensitive to the high amount of dust you were suddenly exposed to recently, and constantly rubbing it damaged the skin, making it prone to injury. I’ll prescribe an anti-allergen to stop the itch. If you avoid further exposure to dust and don’t rub your nose, you should be fine in a few days.”

“That’s it?” Inosuke couldn’t believe how simple the problem turned out to be. “So it’s not because I looked at pictures of people banging or because I dream about banging someone?!” He shouted so loudly that all the nurses and patients in the waiting area turned their heads to look at him.

“Technically, sexual arousal, as you described, can cause an increase in blood pressure, which leads to the expansion of blood vessels. It may result in flushing, or red face syndrome, and even erections. It’s normal and not harmful, and rarely does it cause bleeding. However, I would advise against frequent exposure to pornography as it can lead to intrusive thoughts and addiction that can negatively affect your daily life,” the doctor explained calmly.

Inosuke didn’t fully understand most of the jargon. The only thing that stood out to him was that he was normal. Pictures and stupid Gompachirou had no power over him.

“See, Zenitsu? I’m normal,” Inosuke exclaimed happily to his friend. “Pictures ain’t got nothing on me!”

“No, you’re not normal,” Zenitsu turned away, cringing in embarrassment. “Don’t talk to me or call my name. I don’t know you!”

*

On their way back home, Zenitsu couldn’t resist breaking the silence and pestering Inosuke.

“Who do you keep dreaming of banging?” Zenitsu asked.

“Huh?”

“You told the doctor you were dreaming of banging someone.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You misheard me.”

“I never mishear anything,” Zenitsu reminded him.

Inosuke sighed in defeat. “Fine. But it’s my secret.”

“Okay, if you’re not telling, I’ll just have to guess. Let’s see, it must be someone you really like and are close to, which significantly narrows down the possibilities,” Zenitsu mused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Inosuke couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine at Zenitsu’s emphasis on the word ‘significantly’.

“How would you know that?” Inosuke snapped.

“It’s natural to be sexually attracted to people you have romantic feelings for or find attractive,” Zenitsu explained.

“How do I get rid of this feeling?” Inosuke demanded.

“It usually fades away when you stop liking them,” Zenitsu said.

Inosuke let out a frustrated snort. “How do I do that?”

“You find something you dislike about them and focus on it until you stop liking them.”

Inosuke racked his brain. He liked everything about Tanjirou - from his wavy maroon locks that seemed to flicker like embers in the sunlight, to the softness of his eyes that held an unspoken understanding. It wasn’t just his looks, though; it was the way his voice carried a calming melody, the touch of his callused hands grounding Inosuke like a reassuring anchor. Even Tanjirou’s cooking skills, which somehow managed to tame his ravenous appetite, added to the list of endearing traits.

Sure, Tanjirou’s fussing could be a bit overwhelming at times, and the unusual sensations he stirred within Inosuke left him feeling both flustered and annoyed. But he had to admit to himself, Tanjirou made him feel special, which was important to him. And the weird feelings did feel nice, if he had to be honest.

“Can’t think of anything I dislike.” Inosuke eventually muttered, frustrated.

Zenitsu grinned wickedly. “Then you find someone else to like.”

“But I don’t like anyone else or want to like someone else!”

“Too bad then,” Zenitsu shrugged. “But you're making me really curious. Who is it? Tell me!”

“I already said. It’s my secret,” Inosuke repeated.

“Let me guess… Is it someone at the Butterfly Estate? Is it Aoi? Is it Kanao?” Zenitsu cunningly darted back and forth, appearing on Inosuke’s right side and then swiftly reappearing on his left, so that it felt impossible to avoid his annoying questioning.

Suddenly, Zenitsu came to an abrupt halt and his face froze in horror. "Oh my god, it’s not Nezuko-chan, is it?! I’ll kill you!!!”

“It’s not any of them, and it’s definitely not Nezuko. That’s gross!” Inosuke shouted.

“Eeyaaargh! How dare you call my Nezuko-chan gross!” Zenitsu erupted, and the chase began. They sprinted all the way home, with Zenitsu's screams echoing through the air.

*

Dealing with Zenitsu was utterly draining, Inosuke thought, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle upon him. The guy would get all riled up whenever someone showed an interest in Nezuko. But then, he'd get equally worked up if others failed to appreciate Nezuko's adorable nature. Inosuke, despite being older, saw Nezuko as a sort of maternal figure. The mere thought of wanting to be intimate with her made him cringe in disgust. After mustering up an explanation that Zenitsu begrudgingly accepted, the relentless pestering finally ceased.

Relief flooded over Inosuke as he entered the comforting embrace of home, welcomed by the mouthwatering scent of lunch and crispy tempura. Tanjirou had cooked Inosuke’s favourite tempura as a special treat for his visit to the doctor.

Inosuke sprinted towards Tanjirou, clutching his haori sleeve. He had been frazzled and anxious by his nosebleeds and Zenitsu’s endless screeching. But now, with Tanjirou’s reassuring presence, he felt comforted that his friend wasn’t the trigger for his nosebleeds. Inosuke dreaded the thought of losing his soothing touch.

“I’m totally fine! Those dumb pictures had nothing to do with it. It was just some dust, but I'm all good now, not even a sneeze!” Inosuke proclaimed loudly, his voice brimming with confidence.

“I’m so glad, Inosuke! So, it wasn’t my fault after all?” Tanjirou smiled brightly, his cheerful personality shining through; like he didn’t have a care in the world. As if he hadn’t given Inosuke countless restless nights. As if he wasn’t the reason for those weird and confusing feelings. As if he didn’t haunt Inosuke’s dreams, sparking urges that made him hot and flustered.

Inosuke had a sudden image of himself pinning Tanjirou beneath him, doing unspeakable acts to him and wiping that blissfully oblivious smile off his face.

No, no, no! Bad Inosuke, bad! That was a horrible thing to imagine. Stop it! Stop it right now!

Tanjirou looked at him with concern as Inosuke headbutted the wall repeatedly. “Uh… Inosuke?!”

“It’s definitely your damn fault, Gompachirou! I swear I’ll find your weakness and bring you down!!!”

The End.

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In the confined storeroom, with only Inosuke and Zenitsu present, Zenitsu once again attempted to extract information from his stubborn companion regarding Tanjirou's mysterious "experience."

"Inosuke, come on! Just a tiny hint, please?" Zenitsu pleaded, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Inosuke’s folded arms and icy stare showed his resolve. “I already told you, it’s Monjirou’s secret, and it’s my duty as the Boss to protect it. Quit asking, or I’ll punch you!” A trace of hostility tinged his voice, sending a clear threat to Zenitsu.

Dejected, Zenitsu groaned and reluctantly shifted his attention back to the task at hand—packing up the cleaning supplies. Yet, a nagging thought gnawed at Inosuke’s mind. Why was everyone making such a big deal about this mating thing? Wasn’t it just a natural process for making babies? And, more bafflingly, why on earth would anyone create graphic paintings of such acts? Paintings were meant for decoration, right? Inosuke couldn’t comprehend who would exhibit such obscene artwork. Judging by their hidden location in a box at the bottom of the cupboard, even the neighbour seemed indifferent to displaying them. He expressed his bewilderment to Zenitsu, who sighed and sat down beside him.

"Having sex, or mating, as you call it, isn't just about procreation, Inosuke. It's also about pleasure," Zenitsu explained. "Remember our mission in Yoshiwara? It's a place where people seek out sexual services for their desires and needs."

Inosuke stared blankly, the concept still eluding him.

Rubbing his head in annoyance, Zenitsu searched for the right words. "Um, you know that feeling when your body is all... um, aroused and you need to find relief?" He made clumsy gestures around his crotch area, hoping to get his point across.

"Huh, yeah, I know.” Inosuke nodded. “Why would I need someone for that? I just do it myself."

"Yeah, that's what I do too," Zenitsu concurred. "But when you’re in love with someone, you crave them and want to share that thrill with them. It's completely different from just satisfying sexual urges. It's hard to describe, but you'll probably get it when you fall for someone you love. You'll want to touch them...but if you're unsure of their feelings for you, you also feel shy and restrain yourself because you're afraid of being rejected and driving them away," Zenitsu said, almost to himself, as if he were reliving very personal experiences.

Inosuke’s mind flashed back to the memory of Tanjirou straddling him to check his bleeding nose, which sparked unfamiliar sensations within him, kindling a desire to touch him back in ways he had never felt before.

Intrigued, Inosuke couldn’t help asking, “Do those feelings grow when that someone touches you while you’re, you know, in heat?”

Zenitsu glared at him. “Aroused, not in heat. That’s for animals.”

“Same thing. Answer me.” Inosuke pressed on.

Zenitsu mulled over it for a moment, puckering his lips in thought. “I guess they should, but honestly, I’m not sure. I mean, no girl has ever touched me,” he said sadly. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he whirled around to face Inosuke. “Hold on! Why are you so curious about this? Do you have some experience?”

A smug grin spread across Inosuke’s face. “That’s my secret.”

Zenitsu’s annoyance reached its limit. “How can you and Tanjirou keep secrets from me? I share everything with you!” He complained, folding his arms with irritation.

“No, you’re just bad at keeping secrets,” Inosuke snorted. "I bet you think about mating with Nezuko all the time.”

“Eeeyarrgh! First of all, don’t use that word ‘mating’!” Zenitsu shrieked, his face turning bright pink. “And secondly, how dare you reveal my thoughts like that?” His voice hit a high pitch, reserved for moments of extreme joy or embarrassment.

“It’s obvious,” Inosuke said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at Zenitsu’s dramatic reaction.

“I hope it’s not!” Zenitsu sobbed, his voice quivering with panic. "If Tanjirou finds out about it, he’ll do more than headbutt me. He’ll literally chop off my head!”

“Why? You just said it’s something people in love might want to do,” Inosuke argued, genuinely puzzled by the potential gravity of the situation, that Zenitsu would accuse a gentle soul like Tanjirou of extreme violence against his friend.

Zenitsu let out a long sigh, trying to find the right words to explain. “It’s like marching up to someone’s dad and confessing that you want to bang his daughter. That’s just asking for trouble.”

"Bang…?" Inosuke’s eyes widened with curiosity, trying to grasp the meaning of Zenitsu’s word choice.

“It’s just another way of saying ‘have sex’.”

“Oh. But Tanjirou isn’t Nezuko’s dad.”

“Obviously.” Zenitsu rolled his eyes. “But telling someone’s brother that you want to bang his sister is also highly inappropriate. It’s just asking for a beating, you know?”

“Well, I know Tanjirou’s headbutts are no joke, but if you really wanted to, you could probably still fight him.” Inosuke grinned, imagining the hypothetical confrontation.

“Arghh! How did I even get into this topic with you?” Zenitsu sighed, his shoulders slumping in exasperation. “Listen, if you ever want to pursue a romantic relationship with someone, picking fights with their family members is an absolute no-no, understand? And regardless of whether you fully grasp it or not, promise me you’ll keep this as my secret and guard it with your life. Deal?”

“Fine,” Inosuke smirked, feeling a sense of superiority that his closest friends entrusted their deepest, darkest secrets to him. But as the conversation took this intriguing turn, a genuine question formed in his mind.

“Is it okay to tell someone you want to bang them?” Inosuke asked.

“Absolutely not. You’d get slapped,” Zenitsu shook his head, his eyes widening at the audacity of the question. “I mean, if you were actually dating, it might be acceptable to ask. But honestly, I have no clue. I haven’t had any luck myself.”

Inosuke let out a frustrated sigh. Why did this have to be so complicated?

“When animals want to mate, they just do a mating dance,” Inosuke stated matter-of-factly.

Zenitsu rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. “Seriously? I’ve told you this already. Animal mating is not the same as human relationships. Look, if it helps you get the idea, think of dating as a sort of mating dance. No actual dancing involved, but you hang out with someone and do things to impress them, showing off your strengths and making them want to be with you.”

Inosuke thought back to the moments he shared with Tanjirou, recalling how Tanjirou often asked for his opinion on important matters and openly expressed how being with Inosuke made him feel secure. He felt a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“Got it!” Inosuke exclaimed, smacking his palm with a fist. “So…I’m dating Tanjirou?”

Zenitsu’s eyes popped out with disbelief. “No, you moron! Hanging out with a friend is not the same as dating! Gosh, trying to teach you is enough to make my blood vessels burst.” He said, his voice shrill and frantic.

“Tsk. Then how do I know if I’m dating someone?” Inosuke scowled.

Zenitsu started to explain but quickly changed his tone, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Why all the sudden questions? Do you have someone in mind that you want to date and bang?”

 “No way!” Inosuke snapped, feeling his face going red. 

“Oh, come on! You already know my darkest secret. Share yours with me,” Zenitsu coaxed.

"Damn right you are! I know your darkest secret, and if you keep asking, I'll tell Tanjirou and Nezuko," Inosuke threatened.

“That’s not fair!” Zenitsu whined.

*

A few hours before dawn, Inosuke tossed and turned in bed, tormented by frustration. Sleeping through the night had never been a problem for him until that fateful afternoon in the storeroom. For three consecutive nights since, he had been rudely awakened by a series of perplexing and disconcerting wet dreams, an unsettling fusion of lewd scroll scenes intertwined with visions of Tanjirou.

“Damn you, Gompachirou,” Inosuke muttered, sitting up and casting an annoyed glance at Tanjirou peacefully slumbering beside him. How dare Tanjirou sleep so soundly when he was the source of Inosuke’s insomnia? Part of him wanted to shake Tanjirou awake, rough and abrupt. But as he leaned closer, an odd warmth and tingling sensation washed over him, making him hesitate.

His fingers wandered to Tanjirou’s hair, which had grown longer over time. Tenderly, he caressed the strands, reliving past memories. He vividly recalled the first time he touched Tanjirou’s hair after the final battle, after Tanjirou had returned to his normal self. It had felt like the best thing he’d ever touched, despite being damp and sticky with perspiration and blood.

Suddenly, Tanjirou’s eyes fluttered open, causing Inosuke to startle and fall backward in surprise.

“Why did you suddenly wake up and scare me like that?!” Inosuke exclaimed, clutching his pounding heart as Tanjirou sat up.

“Sorry. But why were you leaning over me and touching my hair?” Tanjirou asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Inosuke’s mind raced to find an excuse. “There was a bug in your hair! I was removing it,” he eventually blurted out. He hoped Tanjirou would buy his lie.

“Oh, I see. Thanks, Inosuke!” Tanjirou beamed with gratitude. He reached out to pat Inosuke’s head, making him blush harder.

“Hmmph,” Inosuke huffed, though relief washed over him more than annoyance. Zenitsu always gave this excuse when caught touching Nezuko’s hair, and Inosuke found it foolish. Nezuko would give Zenitsu a strange look whenever he said it. It was clear that she didn’t buy it either. Inosuke couldn’t believe it was the first lame excuse that came to his mind. Fortunately, Tanjirou seemed unsuspecting and genuinely appreciative. Stupid Gompachirou, always making me feel weird all over, he thought.

“Anyway, I woke up suddenly because I smelled blood,” Tanjirou explained. “Your blood, to be precise. I hope you didn’t get bitten or something.”

Inosuke had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment as Tanjirou held a lamp near his face.

“It’s your nose! It’s bleeding!” Tanjirou exclaimed.

“Huh!” Inosuke brought his hand to his nose and discovered blood on it.

Oh no, not again! Inosuke groaned inwardly. He had suffered from occasional nosebleeds over the past three days since coming back from cleaning the neighbours’ house. It usually started from a burning itch in his nose, which would make him lift his boar mask and rub it vigorously. He always managed to take care of it before anyone else could notice. He tried to shrug it off because a nosebleed seemed like such a trivial thing compared to the battle wounds he had endured in near-death experiences before. But he couldn’t help feeling uneasy now. Why did it keep happening, seemingly out of nowhere? Could it be because of those stupid wet dreams? Could Tanjirou be the cause of this?!

“How do you feel? Are you dizzy? Are you unwell?” Tanjirou cupped Inosuke’s face in his hands, closing the distance between them. Inosuke could feel his heart pounding, his face growing hotter by the second. Part of him wanted to pull Tanjirou closer and bridge the narrow gap between them.

Zenitsu’s grumpy, sleepy voice came from Tanjirou’s other side. “Why are you both making such a racket this early in the morning?”

Snapping out of his trance, Inosuke shoved Tanjirou away and dashed out of the bedroom, shouting for Tanjirou not to follow him.

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Inosuke couldn't believe how a mundane afternoon had spiraled into a full-blown catastrophe. The nosebleeds had stopped, but the aftermath was far from over. Tanjirou knelt in one corner, an aura of gloom surrounding him as he lamented his failure as the eldest brother, blaming himself for exposing Nezuko to such indecent content. Zenitsu lay in another corner, whimpering and clutching his chest, as if he had suffered a heart attack. He kept moaning about how Nezuko must think of him as a hopeless pervert.

Inosuke couldn't bring himself to sympathise with Zenitsu, considering he was the one who started the entire mess. However, he did feel a pang of guilt for Tanjirou. Did Tanjirou now view him as a pervert too? The thought enraged Inosuke, and he shot a fierce glare at the scattered piles of scrolls surrounding them. It was the fault of those wretched scrolls for existing, and those depraved artists for creating them. Yes, they were the true depraved ones, not him. Yet, he was the one facing the consequences. It just wasn't fair!

“Stop sulking like a bunch of babies! It won’t change anything! Let’s just burn these damn scrolls and be done with it!” Inosuke yelled, reaching for the nearest scroll. But before he could grab it, both Zenitsu and Tanjirou shouted at him.

"You can't burn them! These are valuable antique Shunga prints! They’re part of history and culture!” Zenitsu cried out. "Give them to me! I’ll keep them safe and out of sight."

Tanjirou shook his head firmly. “These scrolls belong to Takahashi-san. We have to roll them back carefully and put them back in their box. We shouldn’t have touched them at all, let alone thrown them around.” Tanjirou gave Inosuke and Zenitsu a reproachful look.

Grudgingly, they resumed their task, moving about the room to collect the scrolls and roll them back. Inosuke couldn't bear to look at the explicit pictures that seemed to leap off the pages. He flipped the scrolls face down and attempted to roll them in that position, struggling a bit. Zenitsu couldn’t help but snicker at his clumsy attempts.

"You know, even I don’t get nosebleeds from seeing stuff like this. You must be really naive and ignorant," Zenitsu teased, his sniggering tone implying a superiority that irked Inosuke. Slamming down the scroll he held, Inosuke fired back.

“That’s because you’ve only seen pictures, and lame ones at that. I’ve seen the real thing,” Inosuke bragged, puffing out his chest.

“Oh, really?” Zenitsu said sarcastically.

“Yes! I’ve seen animals mating in the wild,” Inosuke announced proudly.

Zenitsu burst into laughter. "I can't believe you just said that! Well, actually, I can. But mating and having sex are different. Of course, I wouldn't expect a boar like you to understand."

"They're the same! And of course, you wouldn't know because your knowledge of mating comes from pictures and words," Inosuke shot back.

Inosuke saw a flash of annoyance and shame on Zenitsu’s face. He knew he had hit a nerve. Zenitsu glared at Inosuke and said, “You’re really going all out for the attack, aren’t you? Well, they are not the same thing!”

"They are the same. Loser!"

"You're the one who nose-bled over a bunch of pictures, loser!"

"No, you're the loser! You’ve only seen pictures!"

"Animals mating and humans having sex are not the same, loser!"

“They are too! Ask Tanjirou, he’ll agree with me.”

Inosuke always resorted to asking Tanjirou when he ran out of arguments or logic. He trusted Tanjirou to be a fair judge because he always took his side. Even if Tanjirou didn’t fully agree with him, he would explain things in a way that Inosuke could accept. Inosuke wasn’t a stubborn or unreasonable boss, after all. And Tanjirou was a loyal and sensible underling who always listened to him.

But Zenitsu clearly didn’t share his trust in Tanjirou and scoffed at his suggestion. “Tanjirou?! Tanjirou is so pure-hearted and innocent, I doubt he knows anything about this stuff.”

Inosuke glanced at the subject of their conversation, who was kneeling in another corner next to a stack of scrolls, diligently smoothing out their creases. Absorbed in his task, Tanjirou seemed unaware of their heated debate. Inosuke noticed that Tanjirou had also flipped the scrolls over, which filled him with a sense of satisfaction.

“Yeah,” he agreed, smirking at Zenitsu. “I bet he hasn’t even seen pictures before this. That makes him the biggest loser. And you’re second.”

“No, you,” Zenitsu countered, a wicked smile forming on his face. “We should ask him.”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Inosuke grinned back, eager to confirm his deductions and relish the rare chance to outdo Tanjirou. And maybe to get back at him for making him feel all those strange feelings earlier.

He turned and shouted, "Hey, Kentarou, get over here!"

Tanjirou looked up, puzzled. He carefully set aside the scroll he had been working on and walked over to them.

"Sit down," Zenitsu gestured, tapping the empty space between him and Inosuke.

Tanjirou complied, asking, "What's going on?"

“Have you ever seen mating before?” Inosuke blurted out the question without any explanation.

"Mating??" Tanjirou's maroon eyes widened.

"He means making love. Having sex. Geez, Inosuke. You can't talk about humans like animals!"

"It's the same thing."

"No, it's not! Well, Tanjirou, have you?"

Tanjirou turned crimson.

"Why are you asking me this?" Tanjirou replied, his expression a mix of embarrassment and utter confusion.

“Just answer the question!” Inosuke pressed. 

Tanjirou nervously chuckled, his whole face and ears on fire. "Of course not. Why would I? I have no experience with such things. None at all. Ahaha.”

Inosuke’s triumph turned into a sinking feeling. Tanjirou was an open book, and that grotesque expression he wore now was the same one he always had when he lied. Zenitsu seemed to catch on too, as his face darkened.

“What kind of experience are you talking about?” Zenitsu asked menacingly.

“N-nothing!” Tanjirou squeaked, trying to back away. But Zenitsu leaped to his feet and grabbed Tanjirou by the collar.

“Hypocrite! Fake! You always act so pure-hearted and wholesome, but you’re sleeping with girls behind my back!”

Tanjirou’s eyes widened in shock and his mouth dropped open. He looked like he had been slapped in the face. “Sleeping with girls?! What are you saying?” Tanjirou exclaimed.

Inosuke cocked his head in confusion. He didn’t understand why Zenitsu was so angry all of a sudden. Wasn’t the topic about seeing mating acts? What was the big deal about sleeping with someone? After all, they all slept together, didn’t they?

“You’re unbelievable! I should have known from the start! You’re always charming the girls and they’re always swooning over you! So tell me! Who did you sleep with?! Was it someone from the Butterfly Estate? Is it Kanao?!” Zenitsu’s eyes popped out with veins as he yelled in Tanjirou’s face.

“I haven’t slept with anyone! And you’re being incredibly rude and indecent to the girls. Stop it right now, or you’ll be sorry!” Tanjirou’s previous embarrassment and confusion turned into pure rage. It was the rare kind of rage that Inosuke had seen from Tanjirou when he witnessed great injustice or disrespect to his friends. He knew Zenitsu was in for it if he didn’t stop soon. But Zenitsu was too far gone to see it. He kept ranting and screaming, naming Tanjirou’s supposed “sleep partners,” while the dark aura around Tanjirou grew more threatening.

Suddenly, Tanjirou lunged forward. A loud thud followed by a sickening crack echoed in the room, and Zenitsu collapsed unconscious. The silence that followed Zenitsu’s screams was deafening.

"Well," Tanjirou cleared his throat, "I guess he'll be out for awhile. We should get back to work on the scrolls. You'll help me, won't you?" He shot a grimace at Inosuke.

“Y-yes! Of course! You can rely on me,” Inosuke stuttered, quickly rolling up the scrolls.

No one in their right mind would dare to oppose Tanjirou after seeing his formidable headbutt, which boasted a 100% success rate once it hit its target.

*

They worked in awkward silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Inosuke’s curiosity nagged at him, wanting to know more about Tanjirou’s mysterious “experience,” but he was afraid to ask. The dark aura that still lingered around Tanjirou made him think twice about prying further.

Deep down, a flicker of irritation sparked in Inosuke, fueled by the idea of Tanjirou once again surpassing him. Tanjirou, his loyal underling number one, had somehow achieved something he hadn’t, even in this area. It didn’t sit well with Inosuke, especially since Tanjirou always asked for his permission for important things. Shouldn’t Tanjirou have consulted him first?

Within Inosuke’s heart, a seed of jealousy sprouted and began to grow. He didn’t like the idea of Tanjirou sleeping with someone else—an expression he had come to understand as Zenitsu's convoluted way of referring to mating. He felt like he had something with Tanjirou, and he didn’t want anyone else messing with it. But he wasn’t sure what this something was, or why it made him feel so odd. All he knew was that it made him confused and angry, and he blamed Zenitsu for putting these thoughts in his head. The rising frustration within him threatened to explode, and he had to resist the urge to throw scrolls at Zenitsu’s motionless body.

Though Inosuke couldn’t quite understand the feelings stirring within him, he felt relieved as the task came to an end. The scrolls were neatly rolled and put back in their box, a sense of order restored.

“Good job, Inosuke. I knew I could count on you!” Tanjirou smiled at him, filling Inosuke with a soothing wave of warm and fuzzy feelings. Tanjirou had returned to his usual sunny self, encouraging Inosuke to seize the chance and ask more about the elusive “experience.”

"So, who was it?"

"Who?" Tanjirou asked, puzzled.

"The one you had that experience with! The one you slept with!" Inosuke blurted out.

Tanjirou groaned, exasperated. "Don't listen to Zenitsu. I haven't slept with anyone."

"Then what was that experience about?" Inosuke demanded.

"You were asking if I'd witnessed anyone mating, I mean, having sex, right? So, that's what I was referring to. I was answering that question. I mean, I lied about not seeing it when I actually have. But I haven't slept with anyone."

"Oh," Inosuke replied, feeling a weight he hadn't realised existed lift from his chest.

"In that case, I'm off to make some ice for Zenitsu's head," Tanjirou said, turning to tend to their fallen friend.

But before he could leave, Inosuke grabbed his hand. "Wait! Tell me about your experience!"

Tanjirou hesitated, his face flushed. “Well… it’s kind of embarrassing, and I’d rather keep it to myself, if that’s okay…” 

“No way! You’re my underling! You’re supposed to tell me everything!” Inosuke exclaimed, roughly grabbing Tanjirou’s cheeks and tugging them hard, making Tanjirou yelp in pain.

“Fine, fine! I give up! I’ll tell!” Tanjirou cried out, his face still flushed with red.

Satisfied, Inosuke let go and leaned in eagerly, waiting for the revelation.

“When I was a kid, I heard some strange noises coming from my parents’ room, so I peeked inside. I didn’t know any better, but something caught my curiosity, and I secretly watched for a few nights until my parents caught me. They yelled at me to leave, and then they sat me down for a serious talk… about how babies are made… and that’s when I learned…” Tanjirou covered his face with his hands, shuddering at the memory.

But Inosuke’s spirits soared with delight. He burst into gleeful laughter and slapped Tanjirou hard on the shoulder. “I thought it was some big deal, but it turned out to be so lame,” he snorted. “But since you’re so embarrassed by it, don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. I’ll take it to the grave.”

“Um… it’s not that serious. I mean, it’s not the kind of thing I’d proudly announce, but even if you were to tell Zenitsu, it’s alright. Just, um… please don’t tell Nezuko,” Tanjirou requested.

Inosuke assured him, thumping his chest proudly, “No worries. No one else, not even Zenitsu, will hear about this. You can count on me.”

Moments later, Zenitsu regained consciousness, groaning as he struggled to sit up. "A wrecked nose and a goose egg from my so-called best friends, and Nezuko-chan thinks I'm a pervert. This is just not my day," he complained. Tanjirou knelt beside him, helping him to sit up.

“I’m sorry about the headbutt, Zenitsu. But you shouldn’t have made such rude accusations about the girls. It’s really impolite and indecent. I didn’t sleep with them or anyone else, for that matter,” Tanjirou explained sincerely.

“Why did you have to lie, then?!” Zenitsu demanded. Tanjirou’s face turned red again.

“Don’t bother asking. Monjirou has entrusted me with his secret and I’ve promised to keep it safe. It’s our little secret,” Inosuke announced smugly, much to Zenitsu’s annoyance. Zenitsu persisted, pestering Tanjirou to reveal the secret, only to fall silent when Tanjirou warned him, “Do you want another goose egg?”

"In any case," Inosuke declared, a triumphant grin on his face, "I pronounce it a draw between me and Tontarou. So that makes you the loser, Monitsu." He jeered at Zenitsu, reveling in his moment of victory. "But mark my words, Tontarou," Inosuke continued, pointing confidently at Tanjirou, "I'll top you one day."

“What do you mean by a draw?! Did you watch cats mating or something?” Zenitsu demanded. 

Ignoring his question, Tanjirou swiftly changed the subject. "Hey, I'm starving! It must be almost dinner time! You two can pack up the cleaning supplies. I'll step outside to write a letter for the neighbours to remind them to properly secure their paintings. They have two young grandchildren, and it would be a disaster if they came over to play and accidentally stumbled upon them."

Tanjirou left the room, and they could hear him loudly and deliberately explaining his plan to Nezuko, as if he feared she wouldn’t understand that the paintings didn’t actually belong to them.

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