Giyuu held no strong appreciation for sake. He never had and he suspected he never would come to enjoy drinking it in any quantity near what Sanemi and Tengen downed with nary a problem. The way those two went on, he wouldn't be surprised if he had to carry Sanemi back, much good that would do him. "You're grown soft, old man," Sanemi scoffed, effectively distracting Giyuu from his earlier thoughts. "Might as well give up now." There was no bite to the words, no true fire, but rather a teasing quality meant to needle. Judging from Tengen's amused expression it failed.
"You've yet aways to go before you can match me, let alone best me," Tengen commented, his arrogant expression holding fast under the effects of alcohol. In truth, Giyuu doubted many men could match Tengen for anything, be it height, drink or women. The man was simply on another level altogether and he knew it. More even, he took great pride in it. But the banter seemed to lose some of its captivating nature as he former Sound Pillar turned his attention upon him. "You've grown quiet." Noting his empty cup, he reached for the sake bottle to pour. Mercifully, Sanemi had emptied it. But if Tengen hadn't realised as much, he was certainly well on his way to being sotted as well. "Suma, bring more sake," the man called out to the only of his wives in residence.
Suma was either so in tune with her husband that she had long before guessed supplementary drink would be called for or was possessed of a great, inhuman speed, for no sooner than the request had been made did she arrived, carrying more sake bottles upon a tray. Giyuu swallowed back a sigh as the woman knelt by the low table, small hands clearing away the empty vessels and replacing them with a great deal of grace. "Would that be all, honoured husband?" The question slipped past her lips in an almost-whisper, wide eyes trained on Tengen as she spoke.
Though she had used quite the most formal address towards her husband, she'd said it in such a manner that one would be hard pressed to mistake her feelings towards the man with anything quite as tame as duty. Having never had the curiosity to observe the interaction between husband and wife too closely, Giyuu was somewhat taken aback by the response he saw in Tengen. For a brief moment he thought he'd mistaken the matter. That was where Tengen's utter lack of self-consciousness proved of much help. The man was so obvious in his display that it would have taken quite a bit of skill to misunderstand the proof before his very own eyes.
Such obvious affection was somewhat discomforting to witness, more so because the moment seemed to have been of an intimate nature. Feeling rather like a voyeur even if he'd been confronted with the sight outside his own will, Giyuu dropped his gaze to his cup, pouring his own sake while at it. He managed to avoid looking back up in spite of the fact his thoughts took quite a turn and before long Suma had left their presence with a bow and a murmured line, presumably for her husband's ears. But she was gone all the same and with her that strange, niggling sense of discontent.
Had he known Tengen's plans, he might have chosen to endure yet more time in the presence of Suma and the frustrating awareness she brought along. "Well, Giyuu, shall you tell us what the matter is?" Lifting his head resulted in a clash of gazes. "Worried about something?"
"I was thinking there should have been more of us here." He did not have to clarify. Their departed comrades had not been forgotten, though they said few words upon the matter. Mostly, musings such as his own lent substance to the feeling engendered by the outcome of that final battle; far better people than him should have survived. "A lot more." Sanemi grunted, which Giyuu took for agreement. "It sometimes still feels unreal."
"They lived well," Tengen said after a brief pause, "and met a flamboyant end; what an end it was." Ho tossed back his drink and slid the empty cup upon the table. From there on the conversation turned to memories and shared experiences. The gods knew they had been though more than enough to lengthen the conversation well into the night. It occurred to Giyuu that grief seemed to be somewhat lessened when one was centred or when it was shared.
Quite without realising it, he poured himself another drink, following the lead of his companions. Alcohol did not loosen his tongue; it was simply not in him to waste words, but it did operate upon a similar level. It weakened his carefully constructed walls to the point where he became utterly relaxed, listening to the buzz of conversation as though from a far away place. Sanemi was recounting a certain episode where Obanai had shown his hand a tad too clearly regarding his affection for Mitsuri. Not that the Love Pillar had in any way acknowledged it in any manner. Giyuu had never been certain if she simply misattributed to the depth of Obanai's affection or she'd never quite looked at the man in such a fashion. With Mitsuri he very much doubted there would've been an easy answer.
"Life is much too short for that kind of regret. He should have just told her, worthy or not; it should have been her choice to make." Coming from Sanemi, the sentiment was surprising. Giyuu focused his attention on the man speaking. "I would have in his stead."
"Clearly, poor Obanai did not have your mettle," Tengen teased. It was very much apparent his sympathy was with Iguro. As to why that should be, Giyuu could not say. But then who could claim to understand Tengen? "What do you think, Giyuu, should Obanai have taken the bull by the horns and confessed?"
"I would not have were I him." In that sense, he supposed he understood Obanai more so than anyone might have guessed. The lack in him would certainly not have been mended by Mitsuri's affections, no matter how strong or deep their bond. If anything, he would have simply grown to resent himself even more for pulling her into the mire. "Wanting the best for the other, is that not the truest measure of love?"
"The only time you smile is at the sight of simmered salmon with daikon; I hardly think you are qualified to decide what is best for anyone. " Had Sanemi just offered him insult? His sluggish brain took a few moments to process the response. Giyuu frowned. That did not deter Sanemi in the least, "If you feel unworthy then work hard and become worthy. Hiding behind such feelings is foolish and does no one a lick of good." A short silence followed the impassioned speech.
"We weren't speaking about me," Giyuu pointed out, voice mellow. "In any event, I have never felt strongly enough to make a confession to anyone." Neither did he anticipate he ever would. Giyuu brought his hand up, pushing a loose strand if hair from his face. "Obanai and Mitsuri are the only ones who would've been able to settle this."
"Gods no," laughed Tengen. "They'd not have settled a thing. Not with how Mitsuri went about deciding anything." He had a point; she was an excellent warrior, but as for coming to a timely and useful conclusion, it would be a great like expecting the sun to rise from the west and set at the east. Which left only Obanai, who would have agreed with him, Giyuu was certain; not that he had any wish to truly know. In the manner of all open secrets, they had avoided the topic of Obanai's obvious affection for Mitsuri. If those two did not acknowledge it, no one else could. "Matters are rarely as easy as that."
"Says the man who has three wives. Matters are not that simple, but simple enough that even someone like you managed to somehow rope, not one, not two, but three women into marriage." Perhaps he ought to take Sanemi's sake away. As Giyuu considered the likely outcome, he nearly missed Tengen's response.
"I did not precisely court any of them, thus the issue of confessing never came up." That made enough sense. While a great many families had adopted a less restrictive view of spousal choice, the older families certainly still held onto the traditional outlook with a deal of tenacity which put many a warrior to shame. And yet for all he said the words, his marriage bonds did not seem the sort of stifle a man. "And a man can use his actions just as well as his words." The eldest of them shrugged.
Talk drifted to other matters thereafter, expertly led by their cunning host. Sanemi was not in the habit of losing any argument; he would certainly use his words and his fists, in that order, to ensure his point got across. All in all, their evening of drinking and reminiscing had bled well into the night and by the time they'd decided to leave, Sanemi was swaying dangerously to the right on unsteady feet and Giyuu felt a tad too warm for comfort. His mind was clear enough that he had no need of aid to stand and walk, but he suspected any aggression would leave him powerless, should they be met with something foul along the way home.
"But will you not stay the night?" Suma questioned as she came up to them, gathered as they were in the hall. She bore herself with an air of deliberation, her skittish gaze flittering from her husband to them and back again. Shyness, Giyuu's mind supplied, watching as she stepped closer to the Sound Pillar. Her husband suffered no such pangs as she did, for his arm was around her waist within moments, tugging her into his side, the marked difference in heights painting an almost comical picture. "The rain does not look as though it might let up soon."
"Well enough to find our way home," Sanemi muttered drunkenly, his expression soft in spite of the slurred words. While he did not stumble upon his step, Giyuu could well see the man's control was a fraught thing. Sanemi pushed himself further yet until he managed to stand up very nearly straight, a victorious grin plastered to his face. "Rain'll wake us up besides." He even managed to speak with a touch of dignity, the words clearer than before.
Bowing in acceptance to that, Suma merely proffered adequate protection from the onslaught of droplets outside. "Please, do be careful on your way back," she intoned, her face lightly flushed. The couple saw them out to the front porch where Giyuu noted that the rain was indeed somewhat fierce. But then summer was swift to pass and on the precipice of autumn one could expect such displays from nature. Frowning at the heavy fall, he carefully stepped down onto the humid ground.
Before long, they'd exchanged the last of the necessary pleasantries and were on their way. For someone who had downed an unquestionably large amount of sake, Sanemi was fairly alert; a testament to years and years of hunting demons down, no doubt. The crunch of earth and pebbles beneath their feet followed them along, with nary a sign of danger however. While their walk would certainly not be a lengthy one under normal circumstances, Giyuu was well aware they moved with none of their usual speed, nor would he wish to. A mouthful of mud did not enter his list of favoured outcomes for the night. A warm bed and plenty of sleep, however, sounded like just the thing. And if he had to wait a little for that, he would without the smallest compunction.
A snort stopped him short. Both in thought and step. Turning to glance at Sanemi who was leaning against a wall, Giyuu frowned. He thought of asking after the man's state, but caught himself at the look he received. "I hate to admit it, but that flamboyant idiot has a point."
"About?" Throughout their lengthy conversation, he himself had found much to agree upon with Tengen; but Sanemi, who loved a good argument as much as anything else, had protested the conclusions offered quite frequently. It was difficult to tell how much of it was inclination and how much habit.
"This bloody world; it used to be a bigger place." The moment's respite restored Sanemi's balance enough that he straightened and began walking once more.
"The world has not changed." His companion grunted, apparent interest for him to continue the thought. "There is merely less in it." Certainly less sisters and brothers, comrades and enemies; all had fallen one by one, leaving behind a void and a lack of direction. Tengen had something neither he nor Sanemi were in possession of, for different reasons, certainly, but the result was much the same. A spatter of droplets fell upon his face, causing Giyuu to flinch. When had he lowered his umbrella? With a shake of the head, he repositioned the shield, careful to avoid tipped it too far back or forth.
Sanemi had offered no manner of answer to his words. Giyuu suspected they were still being digested; one had to make some exceptions for alcohol fogged minds and he rather thought that all things considered, they were better off than they might have been.
Reaching the estate, he was not at all surprised to see one or two flickering lights. While most of the inhabitants were undoubtedly asleep, a few of the present slayers could always be counted upon to suffer from insomnia, night terrors or pained limbs from their latest encounter with a creature. After making certain Sanemi reached his quarters without falling and breaking his neck, Giyuu started forth, intended to find his own bedchamber and climb beneath the covers. For some reason, however his legs saw fit to carry him in another direction altogether, which he realised only after he had passed the gates of the Butterfly mansion.
Blinking in confusion and somewhat disoriented, Giyuu tensed at the sound of footfalls ringing from behind a thick shroud of darkness. Instinct more than anything propelled him to sidestep the body that rushed him. On steadier feet, he might have returned the favour with a blow of his own. As matters stood it was all he could do not to fall down into the slick mud beneath his feet.
"You!" He recognised the shrill voice the moment it reached his ears. "Have you any idea the fright you gave me?" Aoi's gaze glazed with indignation as she glowered at him, wet tendril of hair clinging to her cheeks. "I thought you were an intruder. I could have hurt you."
Before he could think better of it, he replied in a soft voice."Not likely." Wide blue eyes regarded him with something akin to wonder before a sharp little sound passed her lips. Giyuu relaxed. He held out the umbrella for her to take.
"Keep it. I am already soaked." She had the right of it, leastwise to his eyes. A change of clothes would see her set to rights better than any umbrella at that point. She moved away, climbing onto the wooden porch. "Nezuko, didn't I say to stay in?" Like a puppet on strings, he moved, the question pulling his attention to the open doorway through which soft flight painted the floor.
"I was simply making certain all is well." If there had been any danger, what could she have possibly done? Giyuu's muscles tensed under the effect of a flash of anger. She had made her way outside with no weapon, not even something as insignificant as a hairpin on her person. And she had the temerity to look pleased. "You should come out of the rain," Nezuko went on oblivious to his ire. "Both of you."
He followed alongside Aoi, renouncing his sandals before stepping up onto the porch. "Where is Tanjirou?" Clearly, the girl could not be trusted to be sensible. Her brother would have to be notified. It was the least he could do, Giyuu thought, looking down into Nezuko's, oddly bewitching, gaze.
"He and Kanao joined Murata and a few others on a short mission." Torn between scowling and frowning, Giyuu fought to keep his expression neutral. "I do not expect them to be gone longer than a week." Exhibiting yet another show of utter carelessness, she turned her back on him and entered the room only to emerge a moment later with a blanket clutched to her chest. She offered it to Aoi, urging her to enter and war herself. "Goodness," she murmured when their eyes clashed once more. The word had been almost too soft to catch even as close as they were standing. The subtle shift in her stance brought her closer still.
Steeling himself against the shiver of awareness running down his spine, Giyuu hardened his voice. "Don't be careless." She was not a demon any longer. Any injury she came upon would exact a price. Her flesh would not knit together seamlessly as it once had. The thought made him quite ill.
Her lips moved in a soft oval. "I see; you were worried. Zenitsu assured us there was no demon about." Were it in his nature to, he might have laughed. As though only demons could bring her harm; his teeth clenched against the urge to shake some sense into her. But Nezuko's joyful expression did not waver as she went on. "And I have all of you here with me. I do not think I will come to any harm." Two small warm hands caught his own. The same unease which had haunted earlier in Suma's presence crept up upon him then.
He held fast onto her hand, fingers curling inward. A spark of some unnamed emotion flickered in her eyes and she responded by squeezing back, her nails digging into him. In spite of her short stature and apparent weakness, she had sure, tight grip. She was the first to let go. He followed suit.
Whatever words rose from the back of his throat they died upon his lips as a sharp cry rang from within the room. Before he had time to organise his thoughts, the fleeing form of one terrified Zenitsu came careening into the girl, knocking her clean off her feet. They fell into a heap at his feet, the young swordsman seemingly doing his best to melt into the former demon, what with the way his head pressed against her midsection and his arms encircling her waist.
As a demon, seldom had she reacted to his overtures; even if had knocked her down then, she would have simply risen to her feet and dusted herself off with nary a scratch to show for it. But the small woman struggling beneath the frightened weight of a fussing Zenitsu was a far cry from the Nezuko of before. Her hands sought purchase along one shoulder and the back of the young man and she attempted to soothe him. The snivelling pup seemed more than content to use her in that capacity, crying all the harder as soon as she granted him her attention.
What Giyuu managed to make out revolved around some threat received from the boar-headed boy standing in the doorway with a look of palpable distaste on his face. From behind him, an annoyed Aoi paused for breath in what he assumed was a reprimand, "Really, Zenitsu, get off her. Have some decency."
The more he watched the unfolding scene, the more his blood boiled. Years of fighting, relying on speed and determination even in the most dire of situation, rose to the forefront. He acted without thought, his only objective the immediate removal of the offending youth. Fingers clenched in the collar of the younger man's robe, Giyuu gave a mighty tug. An undignified squawk left his unwitting opponent as she flew backwards, landing safely a few paces away. "Enough."
Frozen mid-motion, tears running down his face, Zenitsu blinked, confusion apparent on his features. "But I will die. I will surely die," he whimpered. "I'm as good as dead."
"Look what you've done, Inosuke," Aoi said, finally stepping outside the chamber, past a scowling Inosuke. The expression might have been terrifying were it not for those feminine features. "No one is going to die, Zenitsu, so pick yourself up." Thought to deed, she leaned in to help him up, which naturally led to him clinging to her. "Do stop that; I already told you that you shall be fine."
Shaking his head at the two, he moved his attention to Nezuko. She'd managed to climb back on her feet, the folds of her garb falling into place, not a hair out of order. Her expression was soft with what could only be amusement and understanding. "Thank you," she said slowly. "He can be quite something at times, Zenitsu can."
Then he had best learn to be less of whatever it was the boy was, Giyuu considered, uncharitably wishing he'd delivered a bit more than a mere toss. Who knew; a good punch might work wonder on restoring the boy's balance. If not, it would serve admirably in giving Giyuu a sense of accomplishment, which was just as acceptable. Mildly aware of the sharp voices rising behind him, he sighed heavily. So much for finding peace and quiet.
She brushed past him, her shoulder exerting the barest pressure against his chest when she moved. And just like that she began speaking to her troublesome assailant. "We are not going to be facing any demons, you know? And Tanjirou will understand if you are yet too weary of travel."
"Not as though we need him," Inosuke pointed out. "I can take down anything that happens in our path." She was leaving; the realisation sank into him like a pair of well-sharpened demon claws. It felt almost as though a tool-cold wind had blows through his flesh reaching bones and scarping painfully against them. Giyuu took in a shuddering breath, not entirely certain why he was so very affected.
Nezuko had become somewhat of a staple of the Butterfly Mansion that much was true; he had undeniably grown used to seeing her running about, trailing an injured slayer or another, carrying bandaged, trays and the occasional ointment. He was also well aware that was not the cause of his visceral reaction. He'd grown used to a great deal of things in the time after their greatest enemy's demise.
But there was a world of difference between that and the emotion worming its way into his chest, burrowing deep. It felt too much like being cast adrift on an open sea, no land in sight. Equal measure annoyed and surprised at that, Giyuu steadied himself, willing his senses to reach out. It was obvious neither Nezuko nor Tanjirou had any plans of leaving them indefinitely. Pushing down the panic, he listened to the words exchanged, the steady stream of conversation as they made their way into the room working to leech some of the tension away.
In short order he learned that Tanjirou wished to visit the graves of his family and would be taking his sister along. Inosuke had agreed to go without a moment's thought and Zenitsu, in spite of his graven display of mere moments past, was equally willing to join them. It seemed he had been spooked by the thought that they would meet some demon on their way; the seed of it planted by a smug Inosuke whose strength was formidable enough that he could afford it. Nezuko seemed to think they would be returning before long.
"Tanjirou had hoped to leave before the autumn set in, but I am glad he decided to wait in the end. At least we now know we have done all we can for his body to recover." Her caring nature shone through those words as she looked at the people gathered around the low table. There was something behind the smile she sported just then, something he did not dare probe lest he find out just what it was that she had on her mind.
Giyuu wished he had imbibed more sake then. At least he might have had the good fortune of being too absent-minded to put a name to the feelings churning in his gut.
