Plum Season

Chapter 8

Zenitsu could feel a scalding anger growing in his chest as he debated over what to say to Inosuke. It wasn't going to be nice, and he knew for sure he wasn't going to hold back. Nearly four weeks of the silent treatment wasn't worth a crumb of sugar coating. Inosuke had crossed the line.

   He supported Tanjiro's back, carefully lowering him to the ground so he could get to his feet. The adrenaline running through his veins allowed him to pick him up and throw him over his now-healed shoulder without much difficulty. Tanjiro remained unconscious as Zenitsu carried him to the infirmary to tuck him into bed. He was more than deserving of a midday nap.

   When the door creaked open, Inosuke expected it to be Tanjiro popping in to collect his lunch tray, just as he had been every day. But instead came Zenitsu, with someone's bottom half draped over his shoulder. As he turned, Inosuke realized the legs belonged to Tanjiro, and his brow furrowed with concern.

   Zenitsu walked to Tanjiro's neatly-made bed and pulled the comforter to the foot of it with his free hand. Shifting so Tanjiro could slide into his arms to be held in a bridal fashion, he laid him down with care. He slipped his sandals off one at a time and lined them up next to the bed, before tucking him in and adjusting his pillow to support his neck.

   When he finished, he glared up at Inosuke, who was already staring at him blankly. Zenitsu bit his tongue. He was certain Inosuke was merely playing dumb. He wanted to chew him out right then and there, but decided he should finish his training for the day first to let off some steam. If he acted now, he would get carried away.

   "He's fine," he growled. "Not like you should care."

   The tension in the air was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Inosuke felt his heart palpitate as Zenitsu's gaze bored through him. He marched over to him and ripped the lunch tray from his lap, causing the dishes on it to clatter together, then left without another word. It took all of his willpower to keep from saying anything more.

   Inosuke started to sweat. It was clear that something had gone terribly wrong, and he had a sinking feeling that he would be the one to pay for it. He looked to Tanjiro, whose eyelids were noticeably inflamed. Had he been beat up? But what could he have done about that? He struggled to connect the dots.

—————-

   A couple hours passed before Zenitsu returned. Inosuke hadn't realized how boring his days would have been without Tanjiro's consistent check-ins. All was quiet as he waited around, soaking in uncertainty, thinking about everything that had transpired. He had no idea what was in store for him, and it was nerve-wracking to ponder over it.

   Suddenly, the door flew open, and there stood Zenitsu, legs apart; feet planted firmly. He was sweaty and panting from having just finished his training, but the same raging anger from before pulsed through him. He stomped to his own bed and grabbed his pillow by its corner, then took a few steps in Inosuke's direction before launching it at his face at full force.

"You idiot!" he yelled as he threw it, then balling his hands into fists.

   Inosuke didn't even put his hands up to protect himself. He just let it hit him square in the face. Whatever Zenitsu was mad at him for, his self esteem was so low that he felt he deserved what was coming to him. Getting hit with a pillow was the least of his worries.

   "What is wrong with you?! You haven't said shit to him since the mission? Are you fucking insane??" There was practically steam spiraling from his ears.

   Inosuke stared at him silently, frozen where he sat. He understood exactly what he was under fire for now.

Tanjiro had no trouble staying asleep. The other slayers in the infirmary looked at each other with confusion, but kept quiet. They knew Zenitsu meant business.