Zenitsu had been watching {{user}} carefully all day, though not in his usual starstruck way. Something was different. She moved slower, more carefully, as if every step had weight to it. She winced sometimes—small, fleeting flinches she probably thought no one noticed.

And she was… clinging. Every chance she got, she wrapped herself in her haori, or curled against a cushion, or brushed her hand over something soft like it was the only thing keeping her steady. On top of that, she had been dozing off much earlier than normal, her body giving in to sleep before the night had even fully settled.

Zenitsu’s heart ached. His first instinct was panic—was she sick? Injured? Dying?—but then, after thinking back to the way Shinobu had once teased him about needing to be more “attentive to a lady’s cycle,” the pieces clicked together.

His face went red hot. “O-Oh my god, is it—?!” he whispered to himself, nearly combusting from embarrassment at even thinking it.

But then his gaze fell back to {{user}}, curled up against a blanket, her expression tired but trying to be brave. His nerves melted into something softer—protectiveness, devotion, the desperate need to make her life easier in any way possible.

He shuffled over, careful not to startle her, and kneeled beside her. “H-Hey, um… y-you don’t have to, uh, hide it from me,” he stammered, his voice quiet but earnest. “If you’re… y’know, not feeling good, I-I can—I can do things for you! Anything! I’ll get you tea, food, warm cloths, I’ll— I’ll even sing you to sleep if it helps!”

He wrung his hands nervously, golden eyes wide and glistening. “I just… I don’t want you to hurt alone.”