Hi hi!! Hope you’re well. I’d love to see you write for Inotan, since it’s a newer one on your list!! Any prompt will do, though 50 seemed to fit well lol
Okay, so I've NEVER written this pairing before, so I hope I don't ruin this for the Demon Slayer fans.
Also, I apologize to Bels because I kind of...used her favorite character for...my own purposes.
If you'd like me to write a drabble, check out list/pairings here
InoTan: 50. I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand
Tanjiro wasn’t a fan of killing others, despite his role in taking down the twelve kizuki. If they needed him to protect innocents, the blood he spilled was a burden he’d bear. He payed his penance by burying the victims they left behind and praying over the ashes from his opponents. Death was a double edged sword he learned could give and take within the same breath.
Inosuke didn’t have the same perspective. “Zenitsu isn’t waking up.”
“No, he’s still resting from the poison.” Tanjiro, patient next to his travelling companion, watched the healers inject more antidote into Zenitzu’s still arm. The battle hadn’t taken long, with weaker demons that didn’t match any of the power levels. It’d been between slaying and collecting blood for Tamayo that a stray demon ambushed Zenitzu, black fangs slicing into his throat before Inosuke slayed the opponent. Two blinks later, the veins in Zenitzu’s eyes burst, the lightning slayer crumbling to the dirt floor.
Two days later, he still hadn’t woken.
“He’s being lazy.” The boar snout spewed hot air after his huff, rocking back and forth from his cross-legged position. “How does this loser plan to get stronger while laying around? I would never let poison take me down; humans are so weak!”
“The healers said most people would have died after the first exposure to the toxin; Zenitsu needs all the sleep he can get to fight it. That’s why they won’t let us any closer; our bacteria could tip his recovery the wrong way.”
“But he won’t die.” Inosuke crossed his arms, then dropped them forwards to lean his weight onto his straining biceps. The energy pooling around him tinged the air with his chaotic nature. “Slayers die in combat. This isn’t a battle, where are the demons? He needs to wake up so we can train.”
“We can die other ways, too,” he answered softly, watching Inosuke’s body tense beside him. The mask hid his expression, but the fingers digging into the shaking muscles of his thighs gave enough away. Tanjiro lost his family, suffered the immense grief of having everyone (except Nezuko) ripped from his heart without warning. Living past that grief was only possible because of his duty to his little sister.
Inosuke didn’t have people to lose, because he’d been alone for most of his life. Death had always been a choice for him, deciding when to dig his blades those who challenged him. But Zenitsu wasn’t a demon, and Inosuke had no control if he lived or died.
“He can’t just die. That’s stupid.” Gruff and snarky with his anger, Inosuke didn’t notice how his chest rose faster from the elevated breathing. The slayer was preparing for a battle he couldn’t fight, leaving him lost in his fight-or-flight response. Tanjiro didn’t answer, knowing nothing he said would soothe the first crest of fear that came with a loved one in danger. He’d learned to accept the adrenaline as an ally with Nezoku on his back, using the terror and pain to focus on his objective. Inosuke’s power came from pride and rage, never fear.
“They’ll take care of him.”
“Of course they will.” The shake in his voice didn’t match his confidence, repeating his mantra again. “He needs to wake up.”
“And we’ll be here until he does.” For the first time since meeting him, Inosuke remained silent. Glancing back to Inosuke’s fingers, Tanjiro moved closer, sliding his hand to rest onto the clenched fist. Inosuke flinched, shoulders hiking to his ears, but didn’t shake off Tanjiro’s touch. Staying gentle, Tanjiro took time loosening the fingers, uncoiling them before slipping his own in the empty spaces between. Calloused as his own, Inosuke’s skin bore each confrontation he’d challenged without worry of death. He built himself into a pillar of physical strength. But the emotions that made his palm sweaty and quiver under Tanjiro’s cut deeper than any weapon before.
“Are you trying to fight?” Inosuke asked, Tanjiro smiling before glancing up at the blue eyes of the boar mask. Despite the disguise, he knew Inosuke was watching him.
“I’m holding your hand.”
“Why?”
“It makes me feel better.” Humming, Tanjiro looked back to Zenitsu, softening his tone. “Sometimes bad things happen to good people, and we can’t stop it. We killed the demon who hurt our friend, but it doesn’t change the current situation. This is Zenitsu’s fight, and being powerless to help him… it could scare the strongest of warriors.”
He didn’t speak about Inosuke’s relaxing posture, slower breathing, or how quickly Inosuke tightened the pressure of the connection while he spoke. The warmth against Tanjiro’s side settled his own anxiety, refusing to hide his happiness when Inosuke shifted them into a more balanced position.
“It’s…weird,” Inosuke said, wiggling his fingers but not removing them.
"Sometimes weird is okay," Tanjiro answered, content to feel Inosuke's ribs expand against his side.
Inosuke glanced at his swords, grunting. “I can’t wield both swords like this.”
“Do you want to let go?”
“No! I can hold on way longer than anyone, especially you.” Laughing at the regular challenge, Tanjiro shook his head and leaned into his ally’s chest. The returned grunt lacked annoyance, then a soft pressure landed over Tanjiro’s head, the bristled chin of the mask mixing with his hair. “Definitely won’t let go first.”
And true to Inosuke’s word, he didn’t.
