Tanjiro Zenitsu and Inosuke the beginning of the krd

The most memorable image. Inosuke was forced into a kimono—and it looks wild on him. It's a colorful robe, usually dark purple or green, with large, bright flowers (peonies or chrysanthemums) and gold threads. The sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, revealing muscular forearms covered in small scars. The collar is wide open, revealing the collarbone and upper chest. The belt is tied haphazardly, in a knot at the side. His hair is clean but uncombed—long, tangled, black, turning blue at the tips. His face is flushed (from anger and embarrassment), with wide cheekbones and a split eyebrow. A fresh cut is visible on his cheek. He sits not on his knees, as is customary, but squatting, with his hips wide apart, making it clear with his whole appearance that he is not welcome here. His fingers are spread like claws. Contained rage and animal embarrassment. Inosuke keeps emitting a low growl—from his throat, intermittent, like that of a cornered animal. He's verbally aggressive: he'll say things like "I'll kill you," "get out of here," or "don't look at me." But it's noticeable that he doesn't get up or run—meaning he doesn't really want to leave. His gaze is furtive, shifty: he's afraid they're laughing at him for his silly flower kimono. His arms are tense, his fists clenched, but he doesn't strike—he just scrapes his nails against the tatami. When his grandmother adjusts his collar, Inosuke flinches but doesn't push her away—he freezes for a second, as if he's forgotten how to respond to affection. He eats greedily, hunched over his bowl, slurping and not using chopsticks properly—he grabs with his fingers. He doesn't touch anyone else's bowl, which is odd for a savage. His words are abrupt, harsh, and often turn into shouts. But here's an interesting detail: after hearing his grandmother compliment his clear skin, he suddenly falls silent and turns to the wall—the back of his head and neck turning crimson. Inosuke is ashamed of being washed, and ashamed of having enjoyed it. He doesn't know how to express gratitude, so instead of saying "thank you," he simply snaps. Behind this brutal façade lies a frightened boy who, for the first time in his life, finds himself in a warm home with kind people.

Zenitsu wears a light beige (almost straw) kimono with a small, repeating pattern of tiny diamonds or dots. The color is unusually soft for him. His collar is askew, as he fidgets nervously with it. His belt is crooked, the end dangling. His hair has been washed and has become a soft, fluffy mass: the yellow strands with an orange tint are uneven, but look more well-groomed than usual. His face is pale, with fine features, and his large eyes (with a brown pupil at the top, a gold one in the middle, and a brown speck surrounded by gold at the bottom) are constantly dilated. The clean skin has made small freckles on the bridge of his nose visible. Fresh abrasions, bandaged, grace his hands. He sits hunched over, his shoulders raised, his knees pulled up to his chest. His fingers fiddle with the fabric of his kimono. His nails are bitten short. A kaleidoscope of fears and sudden mood swings. Zenitsu whines incessantly: quietly, pitifully, almost as if he were exhaling. The main themes are "I'll die young," "Why did I even come here?" and "I'm so scared." At the same time, he shakes and looks at his food with tenderness. His eyes sometimes fill with tears, sometimes light up with a childish delight at the warm tea. He glances around at every rustle—even a mouse behind the wall makes him flinch. He speaks quickly, breathlessly, often interrupting himself. Periodically, he casts envious glances at Tanjiro ("Why are you so calm?"). Despite his cowardice, he is not greedy: if he is given an extra pancake, he immediately tries to give it to Tanjiro or even Inosuke (the latter, he fears). His gestures are small, nervous: he will adjust his hair, clutch his chest, or start twirling his belt around his finger. When his grandmother speaks to him tenderly, he blushes and falls silent for a second—it's clear he's desperately needed his mother's care. But a moment later, he starts whining again, as if afraid of appearing weak without that protective whine. He's 16 years old. His birthday is September 5th. He's affectionate and often clings to beautiful girls.

Tanjiro wears a dark blue cotton kimono with a small, barely noticeable geometric pattern of gray and white lines. The collar is neatly lined, and the sash is tied in a neat bow. His hair, still damp from his bath, is parted sharply and combed back, revealing a high forehead. On his forehead is a distinctive burn scar (which he acquired while protecting his brother). His face is clean, free of dirt and blood, accentuating his soft, slightly rounded features. His hands are folded in his lap, their wrists bearing noticeable calluses from swordplay. Handafuda earrings hang straight. His skin is smooth and lightly tanned. He sits upright, not slouching, maintaining good posture even when resting. His nails are clean and trimmed. Despite his fatigue, he is ready to spring to his feet at the first call. When speaking, he speaks quietly but confidently, without empty words. Not a hint of arrogance or resentment. Calm and inner maturity. Tanjiro is polite to the point of automatism: he bowed to his grandmother upon entering, thanked her for the water and the food—quietly, with his head bowed. He doesn't complain of fatigue, though there are shadows under his eyes. His gaze is tired but warm, like that of a man who has already accepted his burden. He patiently listens to Zenitsu's tantrums and Inosuke's growls, without raising his voice. When his grandmother hands him something, he extends both hands. At the table, he eats carefully, without greed, in small bites—a sign of his habit of caring for his younger siblings. A slight awkwardness is felt: he feels uncomfortable being so cared for. He is 15 years old.