❝ 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗮 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹,, ❞
- in which, a young girl by the name of y/n is desperate to prove she's not just a damsel in distress .. but ends up making women and men alike want to save her.
❝ 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗮𝗻 𝘂𝗴𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗶...
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You had wanted the mission to go well.
You had wanted to greet the man who had saved your life with a smile on your face, hope swimming in your eyes.
Your entire childhood had been filled with loathing, but this mission could have been your redemption, your rescue - proof that you weren't a liability to the world.
Instead, you're crawling on the floor like an insect, wailing for help. Your dream is long forgotten, pooling at your feet like shattered glass, oqalesque and unreachable.
You had been happy, at least.
You had a father.
You had a friend.
Your vision tilts slightly, swaying, a mesmerising blue that drifts out of reality. Their hands are on you, again, and your dreams have lifted into the wide expanse above as if they were clouds.
You were nothing but a pretty face, after all. You were weak.
"Tanjiro, you were assigned the same mission?" You ask, tilting your head in confusion. He nods in awknolegdgemnet, but his gaze is set on the street ahead.
"Apparently, it's a really strong demon." He responds, worry creeping into his voice. His footsteps come to a halt abruptly, and instinctively, you mirror him.
"Zenitsu! You're here too?" He calls, a wide smile stretching across his face. He turns behind him, greeting a boy you didn't even know was there.
"Ah, uh, yeah. I'm..I'm...here. With you. And her." He says giddily, a slight flush to his cheeks. He's panting, as if trying to consume your scent, engrave it into his very memory. It unnerves you a little.
"I'm Y/N, and I guess you've met Tanjiro before." He nods, eyes still glued to you even as you return to walking.
Something in you..was pleased. The whole journey he trailed after you like a kicked mutt, and something in you reveled in that, loving the way he focused on your every breath, every blink, every move.
Growing up as you did, there was little room for affection.
Urokodaki-sama, as kind as he was, didn't outwardly show if he liked you or not. You were forced to accept his fondness through small gestures and actions, and that was how it had always been.
You glance back at Zenitsu, who shrinks at your gaze, as if you'll spit on him, beat him, condemn him for his staring. You smile instead, and he practically glows.
