Umeshu
Wake
Ichiko Ono could hold her liquor.
This was an absolute truth, and she knew it.
In fact, she had seen it in action.
The most recent example was when she and Suzume had taken Yumemi out for her final night of 'freedom' before the wedding. On that night, Ichiko had been the only mildly sober individual to come stumbling out of Maru-Maru's Karaoke Bar at four in the morning.
'Mildly sober' meaning she could form sentences well enough.
It was all she could do to hoist Suzumei- the clearly most sloshed member of their party- into the waiting taxi. Yumemi wasn't helping the process at all; only standing against a lamppost, giggling to herself in the most enraptured way. Ichiko could only guess who she was thinking about.
Yumemi was a happy drunk, go figure.
Ichiko was… contemplative at best. The times when she was drunk, which were rare, her guard relaxed quite a bit, and her 'look before you leap' attitude flew completely out the window. Ichiko kind of threw herself at people, when she was usually much more guarded.
But Suzume… what an infuriating lightweight! The girl had gone from zero to passed-out in two shots of sake. It was as if she had never even tasted alcohol in any other form than mouthwash.
Ichiko had downed a whole Sapporo and a good amount of plum wine and she was still coherent enough to get the other two into the taxi, pay for the driver, and help them both inside before collapsing onto the couch.
And, if she could recall, it had been she with the lesser headache in the morning.
Perhaps it was genes? Chemical makeup?
She had no idea.
All she knew was that she could hold her liquor.
She could hold her liquor very, very well.
Which was why it was such as curious thing, as Ichiko slowly regained consciousness, that she was graced with the most searing of hangovers she had ever experienced in her entire life.
A very audible groan forced its way up her raw throat. It felt like she'd swallowed a whole cup of gravel.
Her eyes would not open, and Ichiko didn't try to force them. It was very nice to just lie there and attempt to ignore the pounding in her temples.
The window must have been ajar, for a light warm breeze smelling of sweet-grass wafted over to her, and the sun was peaking round the curtains to dapple her bare skin in a swath of warm. Add another reason to keeping her lids closed: the sun, and what it would do to the sweltering pain in her head.
How could she have gotten so smashed?
Was it that bachelorette party?
No, no, that was a few weeks ago. A memory. No, this was different. This was a new and cacophonous event.
Grumbling, turning over from her right side onto her back, Ichiko disregarded this missing information, instead reveling in how utterly and amazingly soft her bed was. God, the pillows were divine to say the least. They…well, pillowed her head so very nicely; almost like air. She breathed in, the scent of clean and the faintest breathe of sea filling her senses.
Huh.
That was… new.
Ichiko could never remember when her pillows had ever smelled of the sea. Her and Yumemi's apartment was adjacent to an open field. If anything her pillow should smell like the wildflowers that grew as rampant as weeds along the property line.
Her legs shifted under the silk sheets.
Ichiko froze.
Wait a second…
Something was not right.
She didn't own silk sheets. But she knew these were silk- just the way they moved like water over her body- her aching body.
Again she paused.
Now that she thought about it, her body did feel a tad worse for wear. Like she had been climbing up flights of stairs for a good thirty minutes. Her arms were tense, or had been, and there was a similar aching weight skittering uncomfortable spasms down her legs. What was she doing in the middle of the night? Running a marathon?
Had she danced so spectacularly at the wedding that she had injured herself?
OH! That was right!
Yumemi's wedding! She must have drunk too much at the wedding. What a silly kind of memory to misplace. Why would she have-
Ichiko's head throbbed a bit painfully as she realized that the copious amounts of liquor must have been the cause of her blotchy recollection. Concentrating despite the pain, she tried to rewind her brain to some point in time where she had been just a tad sober.
The ceremony had been beautiful; she remembered that of course, she hadn't been drinking yet.
Then the festivities had started. There had been… dancing, which Ichiko hadn't partaken in. The King and er- Queen had taken the first round with a slow moving waltz. Something about the way they moved together made tears well in Ichiko's eyes.
Ah-ha!
That was the precise moment in which she had felt the very strong urge to consume copious amounts of liquid sustenance. She had sought out a servant or maid or whatever and had gotten her hands on a strangely purplish brew. Downing that tiny flute in a few sips, she'd asked for another.
Strange things those drinks had been. The first didn't seem to hit you until you were on your second or third.
Ichiko would have to remember for next time- the spirits in Heaven were much stronger then those back home.
She skipped a bit, fast forwarding.
She had commandeered a small table all to herself where she was nursing her… her… well, one number of drinks- perhaps fifth. It was at that point in which the all-consuming bane of her existence had walked up.
It amused her that Rui had looked about as far along into a drunken stupor as she was… utterly intoxicated.
They had exchanged words, the specifics of which Ichiko couldn't exactly remember. She assumed they hadn't been too chummy. She didn't hate the man, she had no real reason to, but he confused her, made her complicated, so she usually rebuked him. It was just something in the way he carried himself, like he knew what he wanted.
That's what had caused her to drive Takashi away. He lacked that self-assurance, and it had bothered her to no end. She wanted someone with some kind of spine to speak of, and maybe it was because she recognized that trait in Rui that made her both intrigued with him and angry with herself for being so.
In any event they had talked briefly about the wedding, both expressing how reluctant they had been about the whole idea. She then proceeded to laugh at a joke he'd said, which seemed to surprise them both, because it was the first time she'd gone a length of time without really insulting him with any true intent.
Silence had ensued, in which the aqua-haired man fiddled with the bottle in his hands.
Ichiko remembered excusing herself after that, desperately needing some fresh air to clear her mind. Rui had offered to accompany her. Despite their history of less then friendly banter, she'd accepted…
An abrupt, small noise whirled the woman away from the fading memory. It was a half bitten off groan, very faint, and almost completely nonexistent. However Ichiko knew she was not the one who made it, which was both puzzling and horridly frightening at the same time. She drew in a breath to calm herself.
That smell of sea again.
This time the scent triggered some deep seeded memory. It wormed its way up through her subconscious, breaking through the bleak black barrier of champagne she'd swallowed.
A hand, broad but slim, running whisper-like strokes up her back with smooth fingers. A body, her body, leaning forward into inexplicable softness. Her lungs expanding, taking in a delighting smell. The sea. The smell of sea.
Her legs twitched under the…
Wait…
Silk sheets?
She didn't own silk sheets.
…
Oh shit.
Chocolate eyes sprung open, wincing slightly in the light as they stared blankly up at the bare canopy of a four-poster bed.
Ichiko didn't own a four-poster bed.
The ceiling above was made of stone.
She didn't-
The sheets.
Trembling, the silk sheets were pulled up. They were the most beautiful crimson red Ichiko had ever seen.
A weight, cold and stunning, fell into the pit of her stomach so fast she thought she was going to be violently ill. She took a deep breath, and then another. No use… it smelled like the ocean; like salt and honey and wind and heat and skin…
It smelled like him.
Well, it would wouldn't it? It was his bed after all.
Grimacing, Ichiko tilted her head to the side, turning inch by inch as if the image that was about to be revealed would disappear if she went slow enough.
She was not that lucky.
There, lying with his head turned towards her and his stomach to the mattress, the bane of her existence was sleeping as soundly as if he was made of alabaster stone, aqua hair a ruffled mess against the red pillows.
It was almost fascinating how the calmness of sleep dissolved every worried line in his face. He looked boyish and kind, like he was twelve again and hadn't seen a day of fighting in his entire life.
Ichiko's stomach flipped as she realized they were both extremely naked, and that he was lying so expertly on the tangle of sheets, that the triangle of silk she had did not cover her breasts adequately enough.
Now, it was unusual for Ichiko to completely flip out in tough situations. Falling through the sky towards solid ground, yes. This… well… after what happened last night…
Ichiko had, for the most part, a pretty level head, which was why she was only hyperventilating at the moment and hadn't started screaming.
The screaming would come later, when she figured out what the fuck happened between sobriety and whatever the hell this was. Utter shock? Extreme dehydration and utter shock? Insanity?
Her chest heaved a wincing, scraping, gasping breath.
Face flushed, Ichiko very cautiously reached up and tugged the pillow out from under her, scooting back until she was on the edge of the bed. She smashed the pillow to her bare chest, staring at the sleeping man next to her.
He twitched.
She bit back a strangled noise of dread.
Rui simply pressed his lips together, which looked a bit swollen, and nuzzled his head into the downy softness he was cushioned upon. Ichiko watched, transfixed, as his right hand, under his chin, convulsed into a fist and then relaxed. The red sheet bunched up in his fingers as they contracted. The idiot continued sleeping on, oblivious to the stunned and seething woman beside him. Rui mumbled a sigh, and then drifted further into dreams.
Ichiko had slept with men before. Okay, only two men before. Now three. One had been her ex-boyfriend and the other a complete and utter mistake she'd made after breaking up with Takashi. It had been a rebound fling, one time only. But Rui was the first she had while being drunk, which… well, she didn't know what that meant.
"Okay, you're okay…" She whispered softly, barely making a sound. "Just think back to how it happened."
It seemed her aching brain was getting quite a work out this morning.
A/n- Umeshu will take place right where that one left of, so please enjoy! 'Umeshu' is a type of Japanese sweet plum wine.
Disclaimer: I do not own Munto or anything Munto related. © Kyoto Animation.