Plum Season

Chapter 1

"You weren't bad. I've been up."

"Oh." Tanjiro swept the last of the moisture from his chin. "You can't sleep, either?"

"Well I'm awake, aren't I?" He furrowed his brows behind the eyes of his mask.

    It was unlike Inosuke to be conscious at an hour like this. As the liveliest of the trio, he tended to be the first asleep and the last to wake. And he was notorious for his ability to doze off anywhere.

"Is there something on your mind?" Tanjiro asked, sensing he wasn't the only one plagued with melancholy.

"Kinda," Inosuke deflected. "What were you crying about?"

    Tanjiro had no trouble being honest. "My family. And, the day I lost them. It's still as scary as it was when it first happened. I wish it got easier, but it hasn't, really. The shock is gone...but it hurts just as bad. I still get nightmares all the time. Sometimes I'm there again when I'm awake. And lately, I keep thinking of what it would be like if things had turned out different, I guess." He swallowed, throat notably irritated from his crying.

Inosuke suddenly felt inferior for having the thoughts that kept him awake. He'd been pondering over what might have been as well. But it couldn't possibly be as bad to never know one's family than to know and love them all, only to lose them so gruesomely. He did his best to put his friend first, the way Tanjiro always did for him. "...Do you wanna talk about it?" It almost hurt him physically to be so vulnerable.

"A little. I miss hugging my mom. And playing with my brothers and my sister. I don't think I appreciated the little things enough back then, you know? I used to get frustrated when my siblings wouldn't let me sleep in. But now I'd do anything just for them to wake me up at the crack of dawn again. Maybe watch a sunrise with them. Or eat one last meal at our table." His lip quivered as he spoke. "Rokuta, my youngest brother...he would have been seven this year."

   Seven. That was a small number. "He didn't even get the chance to grow," Inosuke said matter-of-factly. He wanted Tanjiro to know he was listening.

   "He didn't," he agreed solemnly. "Sometimes it's hard to remember what their voices sounded like. I don't want to forget, but...what if I do? My memories are all I have of them, and if I forget, then...then it's like they weren't here at all. But I can still see their bodies. I can still smell the blood. Some days are better than others but; it was just so...they were all—" He started to cry again.

Inosuke squirmed where he sat, uncomfortable with the return of Tanjiro's tearful outburst. He felt for him, and certainly wanted to help, but the air of emotional instability made him feel like a caged animal, desperate to escape. He began to wonder if he should have kept to himself. What could he have done to fix all this, anyway? He couldn't raise the dead.

   "Is this even helping you?" he asked through gritted teeth. "You don't have to say shit if it's just gonna make you sad." Inosuke had quickly learned in childhood that no one was going to come to his rescue when he wept, so he never quite understood the point in crying, let alone discussing his feelings. He looked away, hoping Tanjiro would agree so he wouldn't have to watch him cry any longer.

"It's not good to hide your feelings all the time." Tanjiro sniffed. "When you get them off your chest, it can feel a lot better afterwards; especially if it's with someone you trust. Even though it can hurt a lot, too." He dabbed his eyes on the inside of his shirt collar. "I appreciate you listening. You're easy to talk to."

Inosuke blinked. "Of course I am." A tingling sensation pricked at the apples of his cheeks. "I don't know how to help you," he said, perhaps a bit too honestly. He let the silence hang in the air a moment, then realized how cold he must have sounded. "But I want to," he added.