One Drunken Night

Chapter Two:

Too Much Water

He buried his hands in her hair, pushing her petit frame closer to his. Fireworks were going off as he deepened the kiss, loving the taste of her mouth on his. So afraid he was going to loose these newly founded emotions, he greedily held onto the girl with his strong arms. So what if they were lying on the bar's floor, a stool toppled over them and all the men staring at them dumbfound.

Sadly she broke the kiss, panting slightly and looking into his eyes with love and joy. "Tasuki… Tasuki, you're really here… But how? Why are you here, Tasuki?"

Again with that name? Groaning, Genro gently pushed the young woman off him and then sat up, itching his head unsurely. "Look, Miss, I dunno who yer talkin' about. My name is Genro, not Tasuki." He stood up—closely followed by the drunken female—and flipped the stool upwards; he sat down in it once more. Seeing that his drink hadn't spilled over, the fiery red head took a large gulp of it. "Ya've got th' wrong guy."

"No, I don't think so." Words slurred, she made her way behind him and then scrambled onto the seat she had occupied before and swigged down the entire glass of water. As if on cue the bartender refilled it with tap. "I couldn't be mistaken. No one else I know has fangs like you!" When her warm finders touched the corner of his mouth, Genro immediately stiffened. He turned his eyes towards her, giving her a side long glance as in say, 'What the freak are you doing, lady!' But she didn't move her hand. "Can you please smile?" she whispered, tracing her fingertips around that corner. "Please? I just…just need to see it."

Genro turned his head towards her fully now. Her beautiful green eyes shined with unshed tears. Long, glossy brown hair was asker around her brightly flushed face. Sighing, the red head couldn't stand her look for some reason; it was as if he knew he'd do anything just to see this strange girl smile. So he did as asked, giving her that fanged grin of his that almost every female can't resist.

That was all it took to raise the corners of her own mouth, straight white teeth showing through. "See." Her voice was still quiet. "It is you. The hair, eyes…" To his dismay, the drunken girl used her hand to sketch the features she spoke of. "Your voice"—she absently touched his lips, making him shudder—"clothing and jewelry." She followed down his neck sloppily to tug gently on his colorful necklace and caller. All the while he stared intently at her, body tensed at her every touch. 'Who th' bloody Hell gave her permission to feel me, drunk or not!' But then again he couldn't say he didn't like it…

"Ma'am, I'm sorry—buy I'm not th' guy yer lookin' for," he growled softly. Why didn't he just push her away? Why didn't he just tell her to bug off like all the other woman he constantly told? Genro wasn't sure if he liked this new sensation or hated it. "I don' have a clue on who ya are. Besides, there're millions of other guys out there."

"Guys like you?" The simple question made him blush. He was "unique" to say the least. People with his style and looks just weren't common. "I've never seen anyone close. And—be right back." The brunette ungracefully hopped off the stool—almost successfully knocking it over—and quickly started waddling towards the restrooms again. "I've gotta go peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" she squealed right before entering the ladies'.

Genro stared wide eyes in horror after. "What the'…" he said, turning back to William who had been standing there listening. "Is this girl okay? 'Cause I don't get it…"

The bartender chuckled lightly, swiping a washrag through a glass (some waitress had dropped off a tray of dirty ones for a cleaning). "Her name is Miaka and yes, she is perfectly fine." He finished with that glass and moved to another. "I don't understand what got into her; she wasn't going psycho till you came." Before Genro could make any sassy remarks like, "I just have that kind o' reaction with women," he continued. "The whole falling-out-or-a-chair-kiss thing I wasn't expecting. I've only seen that four times in my ten years working here—and they all had been couples." The Old Man grinned and winked at his customer. "Didn't look like you minded much about it though, Mr. I Hate All Woman. What was that about?"

The twenty-three-year old hung his head, twirling his drink that was now three-fourths gone around. "I dunno," he answered truthfully before downing the rest. "Could ya fill me back up, man?" Of course the bartender obliged, leaving Genro a couple of moments to think. What was that kiss about? And the whole 'Tasuki' crap! None of it made sense…yet at the same time it did. Exactly what 'it' was, Genro wasn't sure just then. But he was positively certain that way, way back, as if far into another life somehow, a single tick sounded. And that was enough to get his curious brain working.

Who was this chick suddenly barging into his life and bringing up these unfamiliar fillings he had never thought he'd had? "Miaka…" The name rolled off his tongue as if he had said it a million times… Had he? Genro thought back to the small amount of woman he counter acted with lately. Was it one of the models he worked with for Sai's job? Or an old high school friend? Maybe one of the many girls Ryuen had hanging about their house? But still he couldn't figure out the simple name—making him quite frustrated. And why the Hell was she calling him that weird name! "I don' get woman," he sighed when William placed his second glass in front of him. "Their ways don't ever seem ta make sense."

The bartender smiled knowingly at him. "Yep. I've been with my wife twenty-two years now and still I don't understand her sometimes."

Genro grinned lazily and raised his glass. "To men," he said.

"To men," the Old Man responded with a glint of laughter in his eyes (A/N: Just to let everyone know, they are NOT sexist! Lol Genro's only doing it cuz he's upset and William is kinda going along for the heck of it lol) before going back to cleaning. The red head swung his head back and gulped down a large amount of the alcohol, giving an exasperated sigh when slamming the glass down again on the counter. The forty-year-old watched closely as his customer closed his burning eyes and then banged his head carelessly against the counter, moaning softly. "Taking this whole thing a bit roughly, aren't you?" he commented. "Things like this are always happening here. I've seen much worse—heck, you've seen much worse here in only these couple of months!"

Groaning, he slowly lifted his head up and looked straight into his elder's eyes. "Sorry, man. It's just that you wouldn't understand. "Well, you see, you wouldn't get it 'cause technically I don' either. So since I don't, you don't. Ya know?" He gave him a distracted smile.

William knitted his gray eyebrows together. "Genro, what you just said made no sense whatsoever."

He chuckled slightly. "Yeah, guess it didn't," he muttered. "But I really dunno myself. Only when…" he lightly touched his lips, remembering the explosion set off when they had locked with Miaka's, "she kissed me I… It was as if a long ago memory suddenly revealed itself." Weary ember eyes met the Old Man's. "That's not crazy, is it?"

William shook his head. "No, I don't think so at all," he answered solemnly. "Like when you find something—or someone—and right off the bat you know you were destined for them. Nope not crazy at all. In fact, that was how I felt the first time I met Katrina…" His eyes drifted to somewhere else as he traveled back to "the good old days."

Genro had to keep from frowning. 'Not exactly what I was going for, but hey, can't expect for everything ta be perfect.' Clearing his throat, he woke the bartender from his daze and stood up, grabbing his drink too. "Well, Will, I'm gonna go say hey to th' guys while I think this whole thing over some more," he said. "Don' tell that chick where I went, 'kay? She's all ready bugged me enough t'night."

The Old Man looked at him gravely. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Gen? We don't want to upset the pretty girl any further—not knowing how she'll react."

"Why th' hell would I care?" he growled. "It's her own damn problem, not mine. I don't even know this woman!" With that he stormed off towards the booths and the back where quiet jazz played. He was gladly welcomed, just like he knew he'd be, and asked to sit down—asked what the deal with Miaka was. 'Great,' he though, 'now I have ta put up with these guys.' "Nothing," the red head answered coolly. "She's just some random girl I don' know. Can we please not discuss this now though?" Sensing the heat, the boys dropped the subject and continued there drinking and laughter. But that night Genro only finished up that last second glass of liquor and had nothing more, just sat there, laughed with the drunks, but kept finding his mind wondering to that girl…

A few minutes later the women's bathroom door swung open and Miaka rushed out and started running straight for the high stools again as if she were in some race. "Tasuki! I understand now, Tasuki, why you're here. Suzaku sent you here like Tamahome—to help me." Not seeing him in his seat, the brunette looked around franticly. "Tasuki? Tasuki! Where'd you go!" Twirling around she locked eyes with William. "Where'd he go?" she cried, almost in tears.

"I—well—you see—" The bartender stumbled over his words, finding it hard to resist not to do as Genro requested by the sad girl's pretty face. "He just… I don't know," he finally sighed, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

By then she really was crying—bawling is more like it. "No!" she sobbed, clutching the bar counter with much strength. Her voice was heard all through the pub: the gentle jazz music quiet playing and all the drinkers and waiters became stalk quiet. All eyes were on the petit woman. "He's here, I know it. I've gotta problem and Taka—and cheating—that fight!—and the Suzaku—next Tasuki—and need help…" She then crumbled to the floor in the fetal position, racking with sobs. "He's—he's here! Gotta be here!"

William quickly ran around the counter and rushed to Miaka, plopping down to her side and made a tentive move to touch her face in comfort—stopping short thinking it just wasn't his place.

"Taka—he was mad. So mad…at me. I didn't—hiccup!—know why. But he cheated…I didn't know and—then the vase. It—almost hit. I—I was so scared…so scared…" She ran out of breath then and just laid there, whimpering and shivering uncontrollably.

Everyone at his table was staring out of Genro in disbelief; his face was anxious and a bit paler than usual. He found the strong urge to run to her aid once again. He wanted to wrap his arms about her slim waist and hold her close, whispering reassurance in her ear and ask what the matter was.

So he did just that.

Because he was in the middle of the circular booth, Genro didn't waste a second thought when he climbed on top of the table and launched off with one leap; he landed painfully on his side. Ignoring his drinking pals complaints and the fierce throbbing on his left, he hastily stood up. He practically sprinted the rest of his way to the torn Miaka, dropping to his knees when he reached her and cradled her head in his lap. Immediately she clutch onto his baggy pants, whimpering what he thought to be a happy whimper.

"Hey now, hey," he murmured while stroking her untidy, long, glossy hair and watching her form slowly stop it's horrid shaking. "I'm still here, don't worry. I was just off, urm, catchin' up with some ol' friends." She just shook her head and buried her face deeper into the cloth. Looking up, Genro saw that everyone was still gazing at them; he scowled dangerously at them all.

He gingerly picked up the young woman's shattered body and stoop up (A/N: I love Tasuki! He's so strong and such a lady's man, even if he won't admit it!). The red head caught William's eye. "We're going to he back booth," he growled, securely holding Miaka as if she were a fragile baby. "Could ya bring back two candles and some matches? An' please don' let anyone follow." Without an answer Genro turned around and started walking towards the very back where the lights had been cut off. It was pretty much pitch black.

Feeling his way, Genro spotted the faint outline of a regular dinning booth. He carefully slid into it, a disoriented Miaka still on his lap. She game a half hiccup, half cough, skimming one hand down his chest; the man couldn't help but grin, loving her touch.

They kept quiet all the while until the Old Man left (he'd dusted off the table first and then lit not only two but four candles, giving them a dim light to see each other in) and even then they were quiet for some time. Finally Miaka broke the silence.

"You scared me, you know," she whispered, words still a bit chocked and slurred, hiding the emotions Genro couldn't make out. "The second time tonight…I thought you left me…"

"What d'you mean, second time t'night?" He felt her body stiffen at his question but didn't regret it. Damn, he wanted to know exactly why he'd made a complete utter fool out of himself!

She didn't raise her head, only continued to rest her cheek against his chest and thought for a moment. "Suzaku sent you here," she finally responded. "I know you wont understand any of this and I'll really, really regret this tomorrow. But…right now I could care less." Another pause, only shorter than last time. "You've been reincarnated 'cause Suzaku probably saw that I needed you like I did Tamahome—I mean Taka." He heard the change of time when she said his name and frowned. "I'm so happy that he sent you to me, Tasuki. You don't know how happy."

"Urm, there's another thing. Why d'you keep callin' me that? M' name is Genro—Hell, I've never ever heard the name 'Tasuki' before in my life!"

"You're name is Tasuki."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Fine. My name is Genro."

"What I thought."

"Same here."

"Huh, wait, what!"

Genro flashed her his infamous lopsided grin and Miaka laughed joyously. "But…you still haven' answered my question. Why were ya scared earlier t'day?"

She gave him a sad nervous smile, the candlelight catching a glint in her eyes. Just in these past couple hours Genro had learned to hate to see her cry. "I guess I have to say it. But, I have to admit…I'm afraid." Her voice cracked and Genro tightened his grip around her. "It has to do with my boyfriend, Taka…"

I am SOOOOOO sorry it took so long to update! I know that I had promised one but I didn't think it would take /this/ long! So so so sorry! Please forgive me. I promise not to let this happen again.

This chapter is short...sorry... But I wanna leave the juicy stuff for later on lol.

For the last week I hadn't writen anything. I still feel like an idiot cuz of that lol. I guess it's just cuz I'm out of it :'( But I'm tryin' to perk back up!

I wrote the first half of this chapter like two or three weeks ago... and then the second half today. So if you can find a change of writing style or personallity, I'm sorry, and please notify me so I can go back and fix it!

Thank you SO MUCH for the reviews! I seriously thought that the most I'd get was two! You guys are the best! Thank you SO SO SO SO SO SOOOOOO much! lol!

Okay, I'm gonna shut up now. I hope you enjoy this chapter... I find it a bit humorous lol.

Love you guys bunches!

Peasant Girl