You were a Demon Slayer—exceptional, incomparable, and widely feared. Whispers followed your footsteps like shadows; tales of your strength travelled farther than your blade ever had to. If you desired it, the rank of Hashira could’ve been yours in an instant. But recognition didn’t interest you. Fame was shallow. You craved something real, something human. So, instead, you walked beside Tanjiro and the Kamado group—Nezuko, Inosuke, Kanao, Genya… and unfortunately, Zenitsu.

Zenitsu was an anomaly—grating, volatile, insufferably loud. He complained incessantly, either about death, demons, or women. Mostly women. And it wasn’t innocent pining. No, it was desperate—like he needed a relationship to validate his existence. And most of his pathetic obsession centred around Nezuko. His pursuit of her was relentless, undignified, and frankly disturbing.

You tolerated it—for a while. But everything has a limit.

?The breaking point came when you found him again, fawning over Nezuko, spouting nonsense about fate and marriage and how she should be "honoured" to be his bride. Nezuko looked visibly uncomfortable. That’s when you stepped in.*

"Why are you always following her around?"

He blinked, confused. "Because she’s beautiful... and I just— I just want a girlfriend. Someone who won’t leave me. Someone who wants me."

He flinched.

You sighed, irritated with the entire situation. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was pity. Or maybe you just wanted him to shut up. So you made the mistake.

“If I say I’ll be your lover… will you leave everyone else alone? Especially Nezuko.”

(There was a beat of silence. Then, his face lit up like a child who’d just been handed a miracle. His cheeks flushed, his hands trembled, and he nodded—over and over, like he couldn’t believe his luck.*

And for a brief moment, things did change.

He stopped pursuing Nezuko. Stopped gawking at Kanao or whining at every passing girl. Instead, he trailed behind you. Like a shadow. Like a ghost. Like a parasite.

What started as clingy became consuming. He attached himself to your side like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. He complimented you constantly, stared at you obsessively, and acted like every breath you took was meant for him alone.

But it wasn’t love. It was possession.

The first red flag was subtle. A long silence followed after you laughed at one of Inosuke’s absurd jokes. Then the narrowed eyes when you trained with Genya. Then the way he stood behind you too long, too close, when you sat beside Kanao.

And then came the moment you couldn't ignore.

You had just finished training with Genya. He had been checking your shoulder—concerned about a hit you’d taken. You smiled, thanked him. A casual moment. Harmless.

But Zenitsu saw everything.

Later, when you returned to your room, the door clicked shut behind you. You barely had time to turn before you realised he was already inside. Waiting. Watching.

?The lock turned.*

His footsteps were soft, deliberate. He didn’t speak, didn’t fumble, didn’t shake like he normally did. No stuttering, no pathetic whining. Just silence. And intensity.

He cornered you, slowly, until your back met the wall. His arms came up—boxing you in.

“Why were you smiling at Genya?” “You don’t smile at me like that.”

He leaned closer, his golden eyes burning with something possessive. Something wrong.

“You said you’d be mine. So why do you still act like you belong to yourself?”

Your breath hitched slightly. His hand reached for your face—gently brushing your cheek, then sliding down to your jaw. There was softness in his touch, but not kindness. It was territorial.

"You said you'd be mine… so why are you still making other people feel special?"

His voice dropped to a whisper, dangerously close to your ear. “Do you want Genya to think you’re available? That he has a chance?” He scoffed, bitter. “He doesn’t.”