SIX FEET UNDER [Zenitsu/F!Reader]

[00]

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❝You look like you're fighting to say something.❞
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They say people can't choose who they fall in love with, and in most cases the argument for it would win. However, in a situation like hers she had to pick and let go. Was fault even justified to burden her shoulders when it was never encouraged?

Total dedication to Demon Slayer Corps should be the single thing on her mind, ridding misfortune off the planet. Avenging the fallen— and those who perished carrying the same legacy. It was never easy, being one herself, yet she never hesitated in the heat of the moment, knowing well what her purpose was.

She was like them; yet she wasn't. Not once has she killed or eaten another innocent being. Instances like hers were below minimal, only aware of a single other being like herself existed. Then again, they were far too different to be compared. Hell, even she didn't know what she was completely.

It was strange, being demon, and being able to walk in clear daytime under the sunlight. Regardless of the fact, she hated what she was immensely. So much so, her original plan was suicide. Walking straight into the headquarters of Slayer Corps; she never expected to be shown mercy by Ubuyashiki Kagaya himself.

"A demon standing in daylight who refuses to harm humans, despite being tempted with Marechi blood and near fatally wounded— you're not exactly what you claim you are, aren't you?"

The fact she could still feel emotions, partially, is what swayed them. Despite their mountain of questions they had compiled onto her, only few had answers. None of which had to do with what she was, but mostly personal wonders. Memories she had long ago of her family were completely erased, not a single trace left within her. In the absence of those thoughts, she assumed they were killed.

"[L/n]-sama, are you feeling okay? Your aroma changed rather drastically in the past few minutes."

The girl blinks at the boy, realizing she's been idle far too long than normal. Hidden behind the kitsune mask she wore, she's thankful he couldn't see her expression. Sticking out a thumb pointed towards the roof, Tanjiro reveals a weak smile. He shifts on his bed, lightly poking the bandages covering wounds he received from his last mission. His gaze turns towards the mattress beside him, watching briefly as Inosuke snores quietly, sprawled out in his position.

[F/n] wasn't thrilled in the slightest when news met her, that she must bring Zenitsu Agatsuma to her next mission. Whatever the reason was wasn't defined. Growing impatient, her lip twitches as she notices he isn't in the room. Eyelids fall as her feet lead her forward. Standing before a large horizontal dresser, she opens it with great force. Nearly breaking off the cover, a sinister glare pierced through her mask.

There he was, shivering, face pale. Zenitsu stuttered out words that were incoherent, sweat dripping from his forehead. Petrified. A frown found its way to her lips. "Get out—" Immediately, he wails, tumbling out of his position and onto the wooden floor beside her legs.

Did she have this much of an extended impact on him? To the point where he completely shuts down at the notion of being paired with her? Why? Why was he crying? Why did it hurt so much to see him like this?

For a majority of the walk, he was silent. Normally, this was preferable, but in this scenario it wasn't. His silence made her feel shunned, different. [F/n] didn't know why this affected her so much, or why she even cared as much as she did. Perhaps it was the fact he never gave her the same treatment as he did others. The bubbly attitude he revealed to everyone excluding her, she envied them. What was it about her that made him more reserved? She was just as kind to everyone else, only becoming aggravated when missions were stalled.