#sutoraiiku

@sutoraiiku

Guess who picked up drawing last month! Im still new to this so no one can criticize how badly I drew hands or Mayas clothes sjdjdndnd.

━━ ━  ━   ━  * . ★  ║║  INBOX  !!  ║  ✕  *

     It is late in the EVENING. 

     Inosuke is awake but SILENT — a rarity in itself. But it is not by choice; not even half an hour prior, he’d been loud and boisterous, moving all around — but Monitsu had  whisper-SCREAMED  and hit him with a weapon he’d never seen before.

     It had been more annoying than anything, and he’d been ready to fight the other RIGHT THEN AND THERE, but when his eyes had fallen upon Gonpachiro’s quiet, sleeping form at the end of his hysterical, gesticulating blond-haired travel companion’s pointed finger, with his purring demon sister cuddled into his side… he had chosen to be merciful of his underlings and their MUCH-NEEDED REST.

     Still, the boar-raised boy cannot succumb to sleep yet — and, shackled into tranquility ( ugh ) by the other awake teenager, there is little to do around. Already he’d gone hunting, had fetched a rabbit — but with the impending sunset, nowhere was safe for him anymore, nowhere past the SAFETY of the wisteria house in which they’d sought refuge.

     So there he is — sitting next to Zenbatsu, who is reading the not-so-weapon-it’s-actually-a-book he had hit him with earlier. The lightning breath user, who’d found offense in Inosuke’s comparison, had corrected him — and Inosuke had thought,                     ‘Ah —that’s what a book looks like.’ 

     He is fidgeting a bit, getting a light slap on his shoulder whenever he was starting to trash around too much for the other’s taste — but, really, there is only so much you can do while seated and immobile, isn’t there?

                                                    So he gets curious.

     “Hey, loser—” he starts, leaning into his companion’s personal space && IGNORING the complaints he gets. WIDE, GREEN EYES fall upon the characters inked into the pages, and when he presses his index against one that catches his attention, it is to ask a question;

                           ( not in his loud, prideful, usual tone —                                                                  but quietly, under his breath )

          “What does that one mean ?”

                          quietly tanjirou staggers through the hallway, his body considerably weakened from, well, everything it had gone through. despite not being in control, he vividly remembers the irreversible damage he had caused that day, the people he hurt, the people that were lost, never to come back. just looking back on that day makes his throat burn, causes the warm, metallic taste of copper on his tongue to return. somewhere along the way his own burden became everyone’s to bear ( he is an utter failure of a first son ) and they all paid the price. breathing in he thickly swallows, before opening the sliding door with unsteady hands. stumbling slightly forward, his nails dig into the door for support. then, for one fatal split second he mistakes them for claws, so vulgar, stained with human blood. the breath hitches violently in his throat, stays there and for a moment, genuinely, he forgets how to breathe. 

                          that is, until a familiar tuft of blond hair enters his frame of view. 

                          immediately the tension fades and his tired eyes soften. his lips tug into a weak smile as he makes his way over, taking a seat next to his good friend. he can’t help but wonder if he still reserves the right after all the trouble he had caused him. regardless, he pushes such troublesome thoughts aside and, while aware of the circumstances, asks a very selfish request. then as zenitsu nods, actually agreeing to his request, part of him feels like they’ve returned back to normal, a delusion which fills him with great joy.

                          ❝ i see --- looks like we had the same idea then. ❞ the boy replies, with a faint tinge of friendly amusement ( oh, such sweet, fleeting jubilance. ) before resting his weary head against his friend’s shoulder. ❝ and don’t worry, you didn’t wake me. ❞ slowly the view of the garden fades as he closes his weary eyes, both the calm aroma of flowers and zenitsu help his shoulders to lax, while his breathing gradually settles back to normal. yet, even now, he can’t help but wonder if this was okay --- if they were really alright. despite facing countless demons, both real and imaginary, he is too timid to ask. instead, he settles for another, hopefully harmless topic, one that had also been bugging him for quite some time. 

                            ❝ zenitsu ... a few weeks back --- do you remember? ❞ tanjirou opens his eyes, yet doesn’t make eye-contact, instead glancing down at the blond’s bandaged wrist. ❝ you weren’t yourself. actually you were very upset, more than i had ever seen. ❞ he takes a careful pause, gently smooths a finger over white coils, before letting the back of his hand rest against his own, wanting to reassure him. ❝ i-i know it was practically forever ago, and maybe i’m overthinking it but --- i hope you were able to do what you had to. ❞

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀  ‘ ★ ’  𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈’𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 !    /    𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 !

@sutoraiiku

VOICE MEME. accepting!

I M IN TEEEEEARS I WAS LIKE WHOTHEFU C IS THAT AJHSJAKSAJKSHASSND