Chapter 2 - zenitsu / To The Beat of His Own Drum / -raijin?-

Tanjiro boarded the bus with two cups of carrots, but Muichiro was nowhere in sight.

"Hey, did you see where the guy sitting by the window went?" he asked the blonde-haired passenger in the seat across from him, who was reading a book. He didn't remember seeing this one leave the bus either.

The man shrugged, then saw the carrots. "Got extra?" he asked hopefully.

Tanjiro bobbed his head and gave him the second cup.

"Thanks," the man said, and tucked in like he'd skipped dinner.

A little while later, after they both ate their carrots, Tanjiro passed over his cup, filled with trail mix. The stranger was delighted. "Zenitsu," he introduced himself through stuffed cheeks.

The key to speaking with this one seemed to be 'food' right now.

'Small world,' Tanjiro thought, bemused. "Tanjiro," he gave in return. They shook hands. "You read a lot?"

"Yeah, actually. You?"

Tanjiro nodded. "It's hard to find much to write about without that."

"You're a writer? What about?"

"Fiction, mostly," Tanjiro shrugged. Some of it... wasn't entirely fiction for him, but he didn't want to get into it right now.

"So, dragons and space-lasers and damsels in distress?"

Tanjiro laughed, "Hardly! Spirits and mysteries, and if anyone's in distress, it's the hero."

"Laaaaame! Who would fall for someone like that?"

"I... don't really write much romance into it."

Zenitsu gave him the side eye. "No one buys your books, do they."

Tanjiro sputtered. "Actually they do!"

"Uh huh. Well what's your top-seller about?"

"You'd love it, I think-if I wasn't using a pen name."

"A likely story!"

"There's someone in it who's a lot like you."

"Oh? How'd you write them? Dashing? Daring? Intelligent?" Zenitsu's voice raced.

"Impulsive and under-prepared. A bit of a coward, actually." Tanjiro replied slowly, teasing him with a quiet tone and an accepting smile, "And a friend of mine wrote him."

"Oh. So a collaborative work then." Zenitsu rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "It sounds terrible. I hate it already."

Tanjiro chuckled. At least he didn't take Zenitsu's jab seriously. "You could always write one yourself," he offered.

"Well I'll just have you knowwww that I'm a bit of a writer too!" the bed-headed blonde boasted.

"Uh huh." he agreed, still listening.

"No, I'm serious! I bet my best work is way more famous than yours!"

Tanjiro waited.

"...Iffffff... fffff... alright. If I also wasn't using a pen name! Hmph!" Zenitsu crossed his arms.

"Sure," Tanjiro settled back into his chair. "I believe you."

"I swear it's true!"

Tanjiro flinched and muddled his closest ear with a pinky. "I'm... probably no one you've ever heard of anyway," he shrugged.

"Yeah, well, I'll just have you know I've read almost everything good on this planet and I've never heard even a whisper of your name. So!"

"So?"

"So! ... ... Actually, I'm almost done with the books I packed. I'll show you my latest if you show me yours."

Tanjiro blinked, then tried-and failed at not laughing. "Really?"

"Yeah, why not. It can't be any dryer than what I just got done with."

Oh. Well. Which one to share? "Um, I actually think the latest thing I finished... technically counts as fanfiction."

Zenitsu grinned. "So, who's the hottie?"

"It's not like that! It's not like that at all!" Tanjiro protested.

"I'lllll be the judge. of. That." Zenitsu teased him.

Now he really didn't want to share.

The rest of that night went well. Mostly. Zenitsu's story was funny, and Tanjiro pointed out his favorite parts.

Zenitsu had a few things to say about Tanjiro's story too.

"Introspective, basically no action, terrible," was Zenitsu's judgment. "I can't tell who the love interest is."

"What if... there isn't one," Tanjiro suggested hesitantly.

"Awful. Every main character has to have one. It's practically the rule."

"Hmm." Tanjiro crossed his arms thoughtfully. "How about 'Zenitsu?'"

"Pffff! HA! You have to be joking. Really?"

Tanjiro shrugged. "Some fans write about that."

"They may be total opposites, but they have NO chemistry! No way. Nuh uh. Not my type."

"A bit like lighting a bonfire with a taser, I know."

They laughed together over that at least.

Tanjiro seemed distant afterward.

"Hey," Zenitsu offered, "If you write that stuff, it's fine, you know? I mean, it might seem a little weird, but-..."

Tanjiro shrugged. "I know it's fine, but... I don't, actually."

"Ah," Zenitsu hesitated. "Why not?"

It took Tanjiro a little time to come up with an answer that he could actually say. "It isn't easy for me."

"It takes experience to level up, my friend," Zenitsu offered sagely, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Tanjiro shrugged it off, but he wasn't frowning at least. He shook his head. No one ever... really seemed to get it.

"Okay... so... if it isn't to romance some hot anime-..."

Tanjiro snorted patiently and crossed his arms.

"Wai-.. husba-... whatever you're into!"

Tanjiro shrugged.

"Then why do you do it?"

Good question.

-Finally.-

"I... think I might just have some stuff I'm working through. I don't really understand yet."

"Uh huh! And that's exactly what anime is for!" Zenitsu cheered.

"Huh. I... really just thought that was creative writing in general. And the arts."

-Psychology mostly.-

Tanjiro shook his head. Nope. Not yet.

"But really, if you want anyone to buy, you have got to be selling what they want!"

"And what's that?"

"Well, not all this existential angst, really. It's good in moderation, but it needs romance! Action! Comedy! Have you tried hurt/comfort? ASMR? Stuff that feels good?"

Tanjiro shrugged.

"You... don't really relax much, do you?"

-Wonder why that is?- Tanjiro sucked in and let out a breath.

Zenitsu bit his lip. "You know, I once wrote someone a lot like you too. Technically, a friend did, but whatever. He was always fun, but... sometimes it was like there was no reasoning with him. It was funny when we were kids, but man did I hope that guy learned how to let go and lighten up as I got older." He relaxed into his seat, arms behind his head.

"I... did try ASMR. A few times," Tanjiro admitted after a bit. "I get headaches. It helps." -A little. Sometimes.-

Zenitsu nodded. "My friend got those too."

They were silent for a while.

"Do you still... talk to your friend?" Tanjiro asked.

Zenitsu shook his head. "Nope. Jerk ghosted me right after we were done with our project. I know we all said our goodbyes, and I couldn't be there for the finale, but it hurt, you know?"

Tanjiro nodded. Their stories were similar enough, it was hard not to feel bad for him.

"How about you? Cowards must be a dime a dozen for ghost stories."

Tanjiro shook his head. "Not as much as you'd think. It takes some talent to write a good one."

"Oh? Yeah?" Zenitsu seemed curious.

"Yeah. Make it too realistic and it's too hard to read. Too unrealistic and it's just uncomfortable. It takes... something to make it both funny and relatable."

"I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said..."

"Huh?"

"Nothing!" Zenitsu squirmed, blushing.

Tanjiro cocked his head. He didn't get it.

"Is this your stop?" Zenitsu asked as they pulled into the night station.

"Just a changeover," Tanjiro answered, gathering his gear. "And a short one."

"Wait. Weren't you that guy who held us up in the city trying to pay the toll in loose change?"

Tanjiro sheepishly scratched his cheek.

"I KNEW IT!"

"Zen. Shouting. Please."

"whoops. sorry." Zenitsu's reticence lasted for about one half of ten seconds. "I can't believe you don't jingle while you walk."

Tanjiro's smile wobbled as they walked. Zenitsu followed him off the bus. Their next one wasn't in yet, so they found a bench to haunt.

"So," Zenitsu finally asked, "Where to from here, for you?"

Tanjiro shrugged. "One more stop, and then I guess I'll... find out."

"Really? You sound like the kind of person who always has a plan, and here you're telling me you don't?"

"It isn't like that," Tanjiro held up his hands and tried to placate the exuberant man.

Zenitsu gave him an incredulous look.

"It's... I mean..." he sighed.

–Maybe 12% of one.-

'11, optimistically,' he admitted.

"I'm going to try to get a job that lets me travel, and a port city is the best thing for that. I just... don't exactly know which one yet. Or if..." he trailed off.

"Travel writer? That's mostly a desk job." Zenitsu tried to help. "Blogger? You'd need your own funding and plenty of followers before you even start. There's always vlogging, I suppose..."

"Camera shy," Tanjiro remarked. "I mean, not completely. I just don't think I'm made for video."

Zenitsu rubbed his chin and nodded. "Mhmm, mhmm."

Tanjiro sighed and remembered 'patience'. In his mind, he sat meditating atop the glassy, infinite ocean, at peace. But without warning, he flicked his wrist and the flat of an invisible blade cut in front of a shadow beneath the water that was tensing in Zenitsu's direction.

-Ugly. That's what he means. That you're too plain for video.-

'Oh, if that was a requirement, we wouldn't have cooking shows.'

-Showing a little fang tonight? What would they think of a comment like that?-

'N-no, I mean-... things go wrong on cooking shows, and they don't always come out perfect-...' The struggle showed, just a little, on Tanjiro's face.

Finally, Zenitsu spoke up. "You make some terrible excuses."

Tanjiro scratched his cheek. "...Yeah, sometimes. It's like I get in my own way." He stifled a laugh. -Twice.- ... Tanjiro reached into his backpack and pulled out a package of pale brown powdered soup mix, then poured it into a fresh water bottle and shook it up. He wasn't sure why the dark voice always seemed more active at night, but maybe this would work as well as his usual mixture to keep it at bay.

"Got some to share with the class?"

"Nope," he gulped it down.

"Heartless! Cruel! Miser!" Zenitsu complained.

"You wouldn't like it," Tanjiro wiped his face and closed the bottle.

"So it's some kind of health drink?"

The man shrugged. "Basically." -Sortof.-

"Eew." Zenitsu said as he read the package. "Get some decent beef or seafood at least. Saltless?" he stared incredulously. "That means it's practically poison. This stuff is for rabbits!"

Tanjiro chuckled. So what if it was.

Tanjiro's new friend, Zenitsu, spent some time sleeping. He took up almost the whole bench and both backpacks.

With no place to sleep, Tanjiro spent some time meditating instead.

Door after door after door spun in rings around the bright shape in his sky, each with a lock of its own. Small waves came and went from many directions as he stepped from the glass-like surface of the water onto a path of luminous stairs that stretched toward the clouds. A ring jingling with many keys hung loose at his side. 'silence,' 'patience,' 'joy,' 'bravery,' along with others, each as unique as the last. He wore a black katana at his hip, tied with ribbons. And a brass key dangled from his other hip, fire-scorched and complex, and away from the others.

He absently traced a shape in his hands as he climbed the steps one by one. A little rounded triangle with a seaweed-green fastener branched out into a finch's wing, decorated with a bolt of lightning. 'dedication' was the key's name. 'Zenitsu' may have had little of it, but Agatsuma, his writer, had been a force of nature to the very end.

Tanjiro approached a cream-colored door with a heavy, green-brass knocker in the shape of a demon's mouth. This door had two locks; Tanjiro already knew their secret. The winged key fit the demon's mouth, and a third eye opened to accept 'silence', but only if he handled it just right. Its ears wiggled, and the door cracked open.

Inside were all of Tanjiro's memories of his old friend, Z. Agatsuma. They rattled beyond the door, high-pitched tenor yowling and sometimes trembling with treble base. Instruments clattered and sang, warming up before smashing into harmony. Those memories were a little... much for every day, but he still remembered his friend fondly.

Especially trying fried chicken for the first time, at Agatsuma's suggestion. And learning to like peaches too.

Tanjiro sat on the last step before the door, letting his feet swing loose through empty space. Music moved through him, buzzing with metal strings and electricity at his fingertips. He remembered the strength Agatsuma's music lent to their song, which would have been far too delicate in Tanjiro's original favorite instruments, the piccolo and the piano, before he heard the bright tones of a bold brass section for the first time.

Part of him hoped his friends didn't mind how many of their favorites became his own.

Tanjiro may have filled in most of the lyrics for their opening song, but Agatsuma's favorite instrument carried it.

Just like they'd been carried by whoever wrote the rest of it, as well as those who performed it.

Agatsuma's early dreams had been many, mostly in the performing arts. Tanjiro remembered the first voice-acting script he performed for Nezuko, its one-word punchline, and so many of his terrible jokes-but he couldn't stop laughing anyway.

He prayed, just a little, for his old friend's forgiveness. Tanjiro never meant to leave him that way just before the finale, or let him be separated from the group, especially by Kaigaku. Remembering how the other boy treated his friend made him wince. Those who thought they were smarter and stronger and... somehow more worthy than others really got it wrong sometimes, Tanjiro thought.

Just like...

...

Tanjiro looked down. Far below, he could still see his reflection.

He just didn't know why it looked like that these days.

A bank of mist curled around the waiting shape.

He closed his eyes and focused on the music thrumming through him instead. Somehow, that was better.

Zenitsu's phone went off at around the same time a new bus pulled into the station. It chirped insistently a half-second before Tanjiro's cascade of raindrops crescendoed and shushed through the open air. Zenitsu kicked him.

"Hey, my bus is here," Tanjiro grabbed Zenitsu by the foot and got up. He shook his new friend's shoulder to try to rouse him, but reached for his backpack anyway.

Even though Tanjiro pulled it away slowly, Zenitsu's head still dropped suddenly onto his own backpack. He mumbled in his sleep and held on more tightly.

"Zenitsu, I have to go," he tried to wake the man again, tapping him twice on the shoulder, but Zenitsu unconsciously slapped his hand away before he could tap him a third time. Huh.

-This is pointless. He means nothing to you. Just leave him behind.-

Tanjiro tensed and stood firm, but he was going to miss his bus if he didn't get moving. Then he pulled out his notebook and picked an empty page. He wrote down his first name, number, and a short note thanking his new friend for their conversation. He left it in a pocket in Zenitsu's bag, and added a satchel of trail mix for good measure.

-Keep giving that stuff away and you won't have enough when you need it.-

'He won't have enough now if I don't.'

-So make him work for it, like you did. Don't just feed him like a pet. No one needs your pity.-

'It's practicality, not pity. I don't think he's been eating on his trip, and I have some to spare. That's all.'

-You have enough today. Do you remember what it feels like when you don't?-

'...' Tanjiro took another drink from his murky water bottle. "Zenitsu," he tried one last time, reaching forward to shake his shoulder.

The man rolled, turning his back to Tanjiro, and clung tighter to his backpack. His posture seemed to cringe. The overhead light flickered, crackled, and went out.

Tanjiro blinked, but when he opened his eyes, he could still see in the dark-through one of them, at least. His sight was blurry and gray, but Zenitsu's hair and backpack stood out in shocks of yellow, and his skin was still a bright blush of peach. When Tanjiro looked down at his own hands, one was normal. The other... was not.

When he looked up again, he was treated to an even stranger sight. Silent sparks crackled between the nearby metal fixtures, the dead lamp, and what looked like a bronze mask over Zenitsu's face, but with him turned away, Tanjiro couldn't see it clearly. Then Zenitsu flipped over, and Tanjiro saw the fanged, eager mask of a demon. Its eyes were open, and staring contemptuously in his direction.

Tanjiro pulled his hand away.

-Still want to feed that one?-

'He hasn't done anything to me. And demons aren't real. He's just some guy.'

-It's amazing how sure you are about that.-

'This is just in my head. No one else has ever been able to see this.'

-Out of how many... have we actually asked?-

'Someone would have surely mentioned this before, at least to a doctor, if they could.'

-Like you did?-

'...'

-If you don't talk to anyone about this, how can you expect anyone else to?-

'...Point,' Tanjiro admitted carefully. 'I really prefer it when you make good ones.'

-Don't I always?-

The red-haired man shook his head, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and turned to head toward the bus. 'No.'

-So, have you figured out how you can see in total darkness yet?- the voice asked, amused.

'...' Now that, he really didn't understand.

Both the window seat and the seat across from him were empty on the last leg of Tanjiro's journey. The silence rang in his ears.

Zenitsu woke up with a start some time later. His phone was chirping non-stop. His new friend was gone.

"People named 'Tanjiro' are jerks, every last one of them," he decided with a pout.

Then he noticed his bus was gone too.

His wail pierced the night.