“Nezuko, watch your step.”
There was a small bump on the ground ahead of them. Zenitsu held out his hand, and Nezuko gripped it tightly, without a word.
Whoa! Her hand is so soft. I’m holding hands with Nezuko right now! We’re holding haaands! Yahooooo! Utterly lovestruck with the feeling of her supple skin against his, Zenitsu savored the joy rising in him.
After all his strict training in Total Concentration: Constant during the day, enjoying a nighttime walk with Nezuko during the brief period when the moon came out was his happiest hour. He had gotten permission from both Nezuko’s older brother, Tanjiro, and the master of the mansion, Shinobu, so they could go out without the need for secrecy; they had nothing to hide.
At times like this, everything in the world seemed to shine. Even the crescent moon hanging in the night sky celebrated them.
“There’s a field up ahead with tons of flowers, okay? You’re not tired? Oh! There’s loads of white clover. I’ll make you a crown of flowers,” Zenitsu said, a rush of blood reddening his cheeks.
Nezuko looked up at him with the bamboo gag across her mouth, pushed her perfect chin forward, and nodded firmly. Zenitsu practically melted at this adorable gesture.
Aaah, what a joy it is to be alive. I’m so glad I didn’t get turned into a spider that time!
“See, Nezuko? Look!” he cried. “We’re here! This is it!”
“Mn!”
Nezuko’s face lit up when they arrived at the meadow not far from the Butterfly Mansion. The field and its many flowers even entranced a boy like Zenitsu. The scene enraptured Nezuko, being a girl of that age, all the more. She looked around happily in the pale moonlight, and a smile crept over Zenitsu’s face as he began to pluck the promised white clover. He would pick as many as he could to make her a crown of flowers.
This has always been the only thing I’m really good at. How lovely a flower crown would look against Nezuko’s glossy black hair! I’ll do one of just white clover, and then I’ll make one with all kinds of flowers. That way, it’ll be gorgeous and colorful.
“Hey, Nezuko? Which flower is your fav—” he started and then stopped, leaving Nezuko to ponder what he’d been about to say.
The moment he spotted a yellow flower blooming quietly to one side of the clover, a faded memory sprang to vivid life in his mind.
That flower …
It took him back to before he met Tanjiro and Inosuke, when he was still training under a former Hashira.
“All right! I managed to slip away from Gramps.” Zenitsu sighed in relief as he hid behind a large tree, watchful of his surroundings. “He’s probably angry.”
He felt the teensiest bit of guilt, but he couldn’t do this anymore. Seriously, he would die.
His trainer Jigoro Kuwajima was old, but he was still full of vim and vigor. He had a habit of saying, “This isn’t going to kill you!” Zenitsu was pretty sure it would, though. This time, he wouldn’t just get hit by lightning and emerge with golden hair.
Sorry, Gramps, but this is all that I am. I’m nothing special. Forget about me—well, I don’t actually want you to do that. Maybe you could just think of me from time to time—I really am sorry. I do love you, Gramps. I just can’t take any more.
Zenitsu apologized to his teacher silently and hurried onward so that he could make it out of the mountains before the already-low sun went all the way down. The first thing he’d do when he got into town was eat a delicious manju. Then he would have his fill of the girls walking to and fro along the roads.
No secret practice in the middle of the night today. He would actually sleep for the first time in a long time. Maybe he would even watch a moving picture.
Zenitsu’s feet were light as he walked ever downward while imagining the evening that awaited him … but his feet stopped when he neared the foot of the mountain.
His extremely sharp ears had picked up a girl’s pained sobs.
“This is bad! A girl is crying!”
Instantly he took on a heroic look, as if he were a totally different person. He parted the trees, leaped over rivers, raced down cliffs, and charged toward the source of the crying. At the end of this sprint, he found a girl in a snowy-white kimono kneeling in the grass and weeping.
“Hey! Are you okay?!” he called out to her. “Are you sick?”
“Eep!” The girl jumped. Then, ever so timidly, she looked over her shoulder. When she saw Zenitsu, she slumped in relief and started to cry again. “Unh! Unh! Unh …”
“S-sorry! I scared you, didn’t I? Hey, you—are you really okay? Are you hurt someplace?” he asked earnestly, and the girl finally lifted her face.
By chance, their eyes met.
Her long feathery eyelashes glistened with tears. Her face would have put a flower to shame with its loveliness.
Aaaunh!
Feeling like he’d been shot through the heart, Zenitsu pressed a hand to the left side of his chest. Naturally, it was an arrow of love. Perhaps because he had lived without parents and never known the warmth of a family, he longed for love and marriage twice as much as the average person. He fell head over heels frighteningly easily.
Zenitsu was already in love with the girl weeping on the grass before him. He started to panic. All he wanted was to stop those tears somehow.