Work Text:
Zenitsu stared blankly up at the sky, tears —unaccompanied by his usual whining—streaming from his eyes.
The usual blue had taken on a sort of red hue, and the blond boy chuckles with little mirth. For the first time since the other boy changed—transformed—he feels the stirrings of emotion in his gut. The slayer’s already weak legs lose all the remaining strength, and he falls to the ground, gasping. He brings his hands up to grasp at the strands of his hair, pulling roughly. It was an action that used to calm him, earlier in the school year—the year that’d started ten? Twenty (He was losing count. He would still be 17 by the end of each loop, so did it really matter?) years ago? First there’s grief, always, always grief.
He’s so sick of it.
But he can handle it. He has to. He sucks in a shaky breath, and stamps down the familiar urge to hurl. He gags a few times anyways, that (persistent) familiar emotion curling deep in his stomach and rising up to his mouth in the form of bile. Grief has become a constant, there hasn’t been a single loop since that first one that he’s managed to escape its claws. He can deal with it. It's fine. Distantly he registers that there’s more blood collecting under his nails—it’s not working it’s not working it won’t stop! His vision blurs further, his head pounds, his ears are ringing—
“Amazing.” the thing next to him says, briefly bringing him back to the present. Despite its earlier claim of not feeling emotion like humans do, its voice sounds strangely full of awe. Zenitsu doesn’t quite hear the rest of what it says, his emotions overtaking—overwhelming—him again.
Self loathing, and the feeling almost like his heart shattering into a million tiny pieces—and a whole lot of other things he couldn’t quite put a name to, not now. Not ever. Something glints in the corner of his eye. He stares, the tight grip on his hair loosening.
He comes back to himself just in time to hear the creature speak again.
“Kamado Tanjiro..” it starts, and the pure rage he feels hearing the name out of that thing’s mouth brings him out of it almost entirely.
He looks over to the thing that shone in his eyes earlier—his rapidly darkening soul gem. The gold trim had managed to catch the light just right, distracting him from his endeavor to rip every strand of hair he had out of his head—
“I had a feeling he’d be powerful, but taking down walpurgisnacht in one hit…” The cat-like thing curls its pale white tail, pleased, and turns to look him in the eyes. Zenitsu drops his hands from his head finally—ignoring the faint burning sensation left in their wake—and stares blankly back. “He’s exceeded our expectations. At this rate, I believe he’ll have destroyed this planet in no more than three days.”
The blond breathes deeply, his lips trembling as he fights to keep his emotions in check. He grips the gem in his hand tightly. He can’t afford to push himself too far. He weighs his options quickly—deciding to let off at least some steam before he goes and does it all over again. Just this once. He opens his mouth to speak, voice unsteady.
“Why.”
The thing just cocks its head at him, and Zenitsu hates how it sounds. Not quite genuine, but its curiosity is a near thing.
“It was bound to happen sooner or later. He’s the strongest of all slayers, it was only natural he’d become the strongest witch.” It turns back to look at the sky, or rather—the massive thing that blocked it. Zenitsu doesn’t look back up, eyes trailing back down to the soul gem held in his hand.
He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t.
The tears that'd just barely begun to slow are running unbidden down his face again, the salty liquid burning as it comes into contact with the litter of cuts on his face. “You knew this was going to happen.” It's not a question. The gem darkens further.
The creature pays him no mind. “This planet is none of our concern now, thanks to Tanjiro—“
“Don’t you dare say his name!” Zenitsu bites out, dropping the gem in his hand and reaching for the damn thing. He takes the opportunity to roughly squeeze the life out of it. He feels the neck snap under his fingers and doesn’t feel a shred of relief. As expected, it shows up again in seconds, licking its paw without a care in the world. Zenitsu pours as much raw power as he can afford into the now lifeless body in his hands and watches it burst into nothing but ashes.
“My apologies. I often forget that in this culture, its customary to refer to those you aren’t as close with by their last names correct?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Zenitsu bites back.
“We’ve met our quota.” It continues, disregarding the prior topic, it sounds content. The blond can’t stand it. “Thank you.”
Zenitsu covers his ears, using the breathing techniques his gramps taught him to calm himself down. The creature watches him curiously, but seems not to take enough interest to actually ask him anything this time around, thank god. After some time, the slayer sits up on his knees and picks the gem back up and drags himself full up off the ground. He winces as he stands, his legs beyond sore from all the running around he’s had to do, as well as the injuries—his ankle might be twisted as well. He takes a step forward.
“Where are you going?”
Zenitsu takes another step, closing his eyes and ignoring the thing behind him. He reopens his eyes, looking back up at the sky. At his friend. He doesn’t look away this time.
He’s met once again with an unobstructed view of the witch that used to be his best friend. It hurts to look at him, for more reasons than just the obvious. The body of the witch is beyond huge, every step leaving blazing ruby red fire in its wake. Entire buildings go up in flames and are reduced to ash in seconds. Zenitsu can feel the heat of the flames, even as far away as he is, so hot his tears evaporate before they can hit the ground. Sweat rolls down his back.
The body of the witch is covered in so many patterns it’s hard to discern the shape of its actual body. There's a large amount of that odd checker pattern—which makes sense. The Kamados all wore something of the sort on them most of the time. The upper half of the face is obscured by red spider lilies, and that same serene smile is plastered on the lower half, even as it destroys the very place the kamado had called home. The smile doesn’t waver, almost as if it were painted on. Zenitsu’s heart clenches painfully when he spots the earrings, and he finally looks away, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.
He feels sick. He never wants to see him like this again. Never wanted to see him like this in the first place.
Somehow, in the back of his mind, Zenitsu thinks—even like this—
He’s beautiful.
The heat must be beyond scalding up close, but if he closes his eyes he can remember warm winter nights at the Kamado household, huddled up by the bonfire in the yard and roasting marshmallows for the younger kids—he’d never really liked the texture, but he could make a damn good s'more. That was also one of the only times they’d…his heart speeds up at the memory, then falls as he remembers how that loop ended. He cuts that train of thought off there. If he doesn’t, he might become a witch—no, he will become one. He cuts that train of thought off there.
The heat also reminded him of the warmth the other boy constantly radiated, both literally and metaphorically. The maroon haired boy seemed to run hot, and he was rather touchy. His smiles were contagious, and they'd always made Zenitsu feel as if he’d explode from the feeling of sheer happiness he felt anytime he came to face it. It’s what made him fall in love that first time. The sight of that smile still made him happy, and his heart still beat wildly in his chest despite the bitter feelings—that came from the many loops he’s gone through that never really went away—the boy’s smile made it a bit easier for Zenitsu to steel his resolve. He’d promised after all.
He took another step.
The earrings would make soft clink anytime the other boy moved his head, and instead of grating on his usually overwhelmed ears, it calmed him. Everything about his sound calmed him. The rustle of his clothes as he moved, his voice, his laughter, the way he breathed—his heartbeat.
One foot in front of the other. Breathe in. Breathe out. One more loop.
The sound that once had the ability to send him immediately into uncontrollable tears—had turned into something so wholly corrupted he wouldn’t have known who the original owner was if he hadn’t watched him turn right in front of his eyes.
He was so close! So close. The entire loop, he kept just enough distance while keeping Tanjiro out of danger. He was strong enough now that he could keep at least him alive without a scratch through his loops, but he couldn’t say the same for the others. This time, it’d been Genya to go. It worked out though, because the kamado hadn’t gotten to know this boy as well, this time around. It’d been an accident, keeping them from getting closer, but it turned out for the best. (He’d been devastated, knowing the other boy—the one he’d known the first time would be just as devastated to reach an end without all of his friends, but Zenitsu was running low on..everything. Really. In the mental department that is.)
He raised his left arm, the movement garnering the attention of the creature once more. “What could you possibly do in this situation?”
Tanjiro hadn’t made a wish. Until now, his only failure. Until walpurgisnacht.
Zenitsu nearly made it to the end. But it still wasn’t enough, he still wasn’t strong enough for that witch. Whatever wish Tanjiro had, made him powerful enough that upon transforming he’d taken down Zenitsu’s (multiple) lifelong enemy in just one swing of his sword. Even given the circumstances, he couldn’t help but think back on how beautifully he’d performed that singular sword form. He’d always been a beautiful slayer.
“Where are you going?”
He swallowed, throat still sore from the scream he’d let out upon realizing the other boy had intended to make a wish. By then it was already too late.
Truthfully, beautiful didn’t cut it. Tanjiro was ethereal. He adored how strong the other looked in his slayer uniform. The fabric draped over him enough to give him the proper protection, but also just so that you could see the sheer muscle underneath. (He really wondered what someone from a baker’s family would need to be that built for.) His red tipped hair seemed to move like a flame in the wind, and the sight of his once familiar deep red sword at his side had calmed Zenitsu to his very core for a brief moment before he remembered it was that very sight he’d been trying to prevent. To protect.
Zenitsu licked his lips, “To fight. Elsewhere.” He poured the remaining bit of his power into the device on his arm.
The creature’s eyes widened, and he found it almost comical. “Agatsuma Zenitsu! Could your power—“
A small smile found its way to his lips at the creature's shock, not quite reaching his eyes.
“Time travel?!”
He revels in the satisfaction of not giving the creature an answer, already in the process of resetting, of starting over.
And this time. This time will be the last.
Right?