Chapter Nine: Drunk Clambering
It was the strangest thing, Yahiko recalled later - Soujiro and Tae had only been gone for half of an hour before the front door slid open and they walked in, looking for all the world as if they were just two paying customers arriving for dinner. Tae was missing her coat, and they were both shivering, flakes of snow glittering against their dark hair. Yahiko had stared at them for a few moments in shock - why were they back so soon? It didn't make sense, them here, together, looking as if they'd only gone on a leisurely stroll through a snowstorm.
So he'd asked them: "how did your date go?"
Tae rubbed her hands together, her hands pale in the golden light. She gave him a little smile and headed toward the kitchen. "Time passed quickly. Yahiko, I'm going to make some rice."
"Rice?" He'd echoed. "I thought you ate - "
"Yahiko." He turned and Soujiro was standing next to him, folding his grey jacket over his arm and smoothing out the wrinkles almost absently. "I was quite angry at you before. Now, though, I'm not."
Yahiko gave him a dubious look. "Um... that's good. Why were you mad?"
Soujiro only smiled, mimicking the strange little smile that Tae had given him. Without a word, he brushed past Yahiko and followed Tae into the kitchen. Yahiko gaped after them, mystified, and not quite sure if he wanted to tempt more vague responses if they were planning on explaining after they ate. So he left them alone.
But they never told him - neither of them answered his questions, he realized afterwards. Not even Tae-san? Kenshin had asked. No, Yahiko replied, neither of them did. It was the strangest thing.
Tae longed to dwell on her memories of the previous night. Soujiro had acted so oddly - he walked silently by her side all the way home, his hand in hers. Then, as they approached the Akabeko, he had pulled away like a shy child. The incident with the little girl had affected him strongly, even though he tried to hide it with his trademark smile. She wanted to ask him... but no, she wouldn't. She would never dare.
And she couldn't, anyway - there was far too much to be done. The Bōnenkai was tonight, and the Akabeko was still far from ready.
The restaurant was closed that day in preparation. Everyone had been roped into giving the Akabeko a thorough cleaning; Soujiro, Tsubame and Hana were beating the mats, and Nizuno and Urato were scrubbing down the kitchen. As usual, the chefs complained each time Tae appeared in the doorway. "I don't know why we have to do this," Urato grumbled. He was brushing the ashes out of the fireplace, and his face was grey where he had rubbed his forehead in irritation. "I mean, it's not like it's New Years or anything. And it's just us who're gonna be here, after all. The kitchen doesn't need to be clean."
"There are only about three times a year that this restaurant gets thoroughly cleaned," Tae told him briskly. She stepped around Nizuno, who was scrubbing at the floor, and fetched out some tea cups."This just happens to be one of those times."
Nizuno sighed behind her. "Must it, though?"
"I think she's trying to make it so we enjoy the Bōnenkai that much more," Urato remarked darkly. "And I will, Tae-san. I'm drinking you out of house and home. Which is pretty funny, 'cause, you know, you actually do live here - "
Tae rolled her eyes. "I've never heard such complaining in all my life." She offered a teacup to Nizuno and the other to Urato, who blinked at her in surprise before carefully cradling it in his dirty hands. "When Yahiko comes, I'll ask him to help you."
"Where is he, anyway?" Nizuno questioned.
"He hasn't arrived yet."
"That rat," Urato muttered, taking a sip of his tea. "He won't show up 'til we're done, I bet."
Nizuno raised his eyebrows. "How much do you bet?"
Tae shook her head and set three more teacups on a tray. She sidestepped Nizuno again and went out into the main room. She offered the tea to Hana and Tsubame, who accepted gladly, then moved to wait by the door where Soujiro had gone to shake out one of the mats.
"Tae-san," he greeted as he came in, the cold outside air blowing around him until he slid the door shut. "We're almost done cleaning, I think."
"That's a lot sooner than I expected," she replied, holding out the cup.
"I can be pretty fast sometimes," he said blithely, putting down the stiff mat in his arms before taking the cup. "Thank you."
"I know it's a little much," she said, nodding to the main room. "Nizuno and Urato certainly think so, but between now and New Years, there's too much to do. And there's so much strain on everyone during the celebrations, that I want the Bōnenkai to be like - " She stopped herself, not sure how to articulate it.
"Be like...?" Soujiro prompted, looking up at her.
She shrugged. "Like... like it's a gift to you, my employees. I'll provide the sake and the meal, and everyone gets a day off - "
"A day off?" Soujiro echoed. He looked around at the restaurant, his gaze eloquent.
Tae blushed. "Well... yes, this isn't an ideal day off. The Akabeko is closed for New Years and festivals, and I don't ask anyone to work then, but..." She looked away, knowing how silly she sounded. "But I hope that tonight will be worth it all."
He smiled. "Don't worry, Tae-san. It will be."
Her heart melted a little at the unwavering confidence in his words. If only she had such courage all the time. She wished she had Soujiro's faith in her, and his reassurance -
The memory of last night came back to her, of his stricken expression as he watched her with the European girl. The look was unexpected - and almost alien on his face. Then abruptly, suddenly, that dismay had changed to one of bright cheer. His face had altered in the space of a heartbeat, and the swift transition was staggering. The change had shocked her. It still shocked her.
He wears a mask, Tae realized. It was the first time she had articulated the thought in her brain. She had never doubted him before - his pretty smiles and kind words had been so constant, even from the first day that she saw him, all those years ago. She had always supposed that his sincerity was genuine: that that was who he really was. He was gentle at heart, and that gentleness showed through in his personality and in his actions.
And he was still gentle, but there was more to him - Tae knew that now. That serene kindness was like one of the masks Tae had seen in a noh performance when she was young; he was complicated, multifaceted in his display and degrees of expression, but there was more underneath: a person under that mask. A person with deeper feelings and more emotions than what he showed on the surface. Somehow, what he had witnessed with the little girl had shaken him enough that Tae had seen, for just the slightest moment, a glimmer of who Soujiro was under the mask.
Why do you pretend? Tae wondered. Why do you hide a part of yourself? What is the harm in showing the world who you really are?
Would you show me, Soujiro-san, if I asked?
"Tae-san." Soujiro's voice broke into her thoughts, sounding as though he had said her name a few times before. Tae started and pulled herself back reflexively.
"Nothing," she blurted. Then she realized how guilty that sounded and ducked her head, heat rising to her cheeks. "I, um... nevermind," she said, biting her lip. "Thank you. I'd better... just..." She turned around and strode away before more nonsensical words could tumble from her mouth.
Stupid, she scolded herself. Why do I always get like this? Now I'm acting like a young girl. So flustered. Like Tsubame.
Tsubame. The name triggered a thought and she whirled back around, nearly dropping the empty tray in her haste. "O-Oh, wait, Soujiro-san. I forgot to mention that when you're done in here, I'd like you to go with Tsubame to the sakaya a few streets away to buy some sake."
He tilted his head at her, and Tae could only read mild curiosity on his face. It seemed that he wasn't bothered by her sudden burst of awkward comments and erratic behavior. Tae exhaled in relief. "With Tsubame-san?" He asked, blinking.
"Yes. I would have sent Yahiko, but..." She shook her head, not quite managing to suppress the resigned shrug. "...he isn't here. Tsubame will show you the way."
"And she will need help carrying the sake, I see," Soujiro added, nodding thoughtfully. "I don't mind helping. How much would you like us to buy?"
Tae shook her head. "A few jugs, perhaps? No more than you can carry, of course. And keep in mind that the Akabeko will be open as usual tomorrow, so not enough sake to make everyone..."
"Slobbering drunk?" Soujiro supplied with a knowing look. He nodded. "Got it, Tae-san."
She smiled and took a step backwards. "Good. Thank you, I appreciate it. Now, if you'd excuse me, I must... to the kitchen..." She was blushing again. How mortifying. She dipped into a bow, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground, and then fled.
"It's rather unusual that Yahiko hasn't shown up yet," Soujiro commented.
Tsubame, walking by his side, considered his statement for a moment. Slowly she shook her head. "I'm not really surprised," she admitted sadly.
"Oh?" Soujiro glanced at her. "I have only ever seen Yahiko act responsibly at the Akabeko."
"He's on his best behavior around Tae-san, but he can be quite different outside of it. He's really well-known as a swordsman - did you know?"
"I've heard," he said lightly.
"He does fight with Yutaro-kun a lot, too," she continued. "But actually, I think that he heard Tae-san say 'day off' and assumed that he'd only need to show up tonight for the Bōnenkai. He doesn't listen, sometimes."
He smiled. "Does he do that a lot?"
She sighed miserably. "Yes."
Soujiro chuckled. "That's too bad; that's a vital trait for a swordsman, you know: being attentive enough to hear and see more than what's obvious."
"Sometimes he doesn't see what's in front of him, either," she murmured, tucking her chin beneath the collar of her coat.
His steps slowed, ever so slightly. There was a thread of sorrow in Tsubame's ki now but it was small, already disappearing as she forced down the emotion. Resignation, Soujiro realized: the sadness was familiar to the girl but she didn't dwell on it - she accepted it. She pushed the melancholy away with an ease that betrayed how long she had battled it.
Now that Soujiro thought of it, the hints had been clearly there: the way her smile faded a little each time Yahiko turned away, the depth of her blush when he had berated her for a simple mistake, her eagerness to please when he ordered food from her, or asked for tea -
Tsubame is deeper than she appears, Soujiro considered, glancing over at her. Her perceptiveness is hidden well, but it's there. It's surprising that Yahiko hasn't noticed yet.
But then, he thought, thinking of all the times that Yahiko had confided in him, never knowing that he was a potential enemy and the Tenken on top of that, sometimes Yahiko truly doesn't see what's right in front of him.
"I can't wait for the Bōnenkai tonight, Soujiro-san," Tsubame said, turning to him with a smile. "You've never actually been to one, have you?"
He pondered her question. "Not exactly," he said, "not in the way you're thinking of, anyway."
There were times that Shishio had celebrations, besides New Years and festivals and all that. When Yumi joined them was one, and when the Juppongatana first joined was another. Shishio was fond of sake, and had it available most nights for whomever of his confidants was nearby. He was really a most generous host so actually, Soujiro thought, every day sort of seemed like they were having a Bōnenkai.
"Tae-san's Bōnenkai's are the best," she continued, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. "She makes the dinner all by herself, and it's always really good. But I love it when everyone's together, drinking sake afterwards, the most. When Kanako-san was here, she used to argue with Yahiko-kun until Hana-chan got so fed up that she covered their mouths with her hands." She giggled. "Nizuno-san and Urato-san have competitions with each other and usually drink so much that they pass out under the table. Tae-san always has to scold them and tell them off later..." She sighed. "It's so nice, having everyone together like that."
"It sounds nice, Tsubame-san," he told her.
She nodded. "It's like... it's like being with your family. It's comforting."
Family. Of course it would seem that way to her. But Soujiro had to admit, it was easy to picture everyone at the Akabeko like a family: Tsubame and Hana as the shy and obedient little sisters, Yahiko as the rowdy, proud younger brother, Nizuno and Urato as the humorous but not-entirely-trustworthy uncles, and Tae - the matriarch that brought everyone together.
And me? A small voice asked at the back of Soujiro's mind. Where do I fit in?
Nowhere. The answer is nowhere, he told himself firmly. I am not here to find a place to belong or a family. My role here isn't permanent, and I don't want it to be. After I see the Battousai, after I get some things settled, then I'll move on.
Besides, I was already part of a family, once. His mind went back, as it often had on the cold, dark nights when he was alone in the mountains, to Shishio and Yumi. He recalled the warmth and the laughter that always seemed to permeate his memories of them. He had felt right there, as if he were a crucial piece to their lives: like he was wanted, needed. Useful. He fit there.
That is what a family is, Tsubame-san, he told her silently as they walked into the sakaya. A place where you fit in. It doesn't have to be comfortable or friendly. You aren't bound to it through some emotional nonsense like affection or anything: it's trust. Belief.
And that is why, he thought as he accepted the sake jugs that Tsubame had purchased, I don't belong at the Akabeko. That's why I don't belong anywhere.
It was something he had thought a lot about over the past five years. He thought about it again last night, when he was walking back with Tae. When he had looked at her from the corner of his eye - between the spiraling flakes of snow that caught in her hair and her eyelashes, making her look softer and more vulnerable, younger, almost ethereal in the pale light - he thought, even if you did come to me then, your kindness would have made no difference. Things like love and compassion don't change anything, not in the end. There is only confidence, and the strength of that assurance.
He remembered the day he left Shishio for the last time, walking down the sun-dappled path of Mount Hiei without looking back, and the years of silent, solitary meditation after that. All those years, he thought, and I'm exactly where I began.
There is nothing to believe in, even now.
"Soujiro-san?" Tsubame's eyes were wide as she looked back over her shoulder at him, waiting for him to follow her back onto the street.
He hitched the bottles higher into his arms and sent her a smile. "Coming, Tsubame-san!"
The snow had stopped falling outside and there were more people on the streets now - taking advantage of the lull in the weather, Soujiro knew. Tsubame's steps were slower with the heavy jugs of sake balanced against her chest and Soujiro matched his pace to hers, the snow crunching softly beneath their shoes. After a few minutes of companionable silence, the girl asked, "do you think I should have bought more?"
"Sake?"
She nodded, humming an affirmative.
"Well, I don't really think we could carry any more," he said, looking pointedly at their full arms.
"Yes, but do you think we'll run out?" She bit her lip. "I don't want Urato-san or Nizuno-san to be angry with me."
He sent her an amused smile. "Tsubame-san, this much sake would be enough to kill a man, let alone get him drunk."
"I suppose that's true..." Suddenly she looked over at him. "How much do you usually drink, Soujiro-san?"
He froze. It was just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to bring the automatic smile to his face. "I don't."
Now it was Tsubame's turn to hesitate. "You - you don't?"
"Nope."
"Not ever?"
"That's right."
"Oh." She blinked down at their purchases. "Then... I guess we'll have enough after all."
Soujiro laughed, though it wasn't very funny. He had been drunk once - just once, that was all it took - and that was enough to swear him off alcohol for the rest of his life.
Unbidden, he recalled the shock on Yumi's face, the way her hand had pressed delicately over her mouth in a pitiful attempt to hide her horror at his display. And Shishio. Shishio-san had been disgusted and annoyed, his eyes flashing at him from above the bandages. But even then, even when Soujiro had been so senselessly and wretchedly drunk, he had still been able to decipher the spark that pierced his master's ki - burning bright, and then gone in a single second -
Pity.
He had been young then, just twelve - Shishio hadn't been one to care about age limits or boundaries when it came to what was acceptable or not, so he hadn't kept the sake from Soujiro - but he knew that his age didn't matter, in the end. He had always heard that alcohol was a release, a way to dissolve inhibitions, and for some people, Soujiro supposed that was something of a relief - a source of enjoyment, even. But he did not have that experience.
The sake completely unraveled him.
It was something like what happened when he fought the Battousai, but almost worse. Words tumbled out of him like a gushing waterfall, revealing every hurt and abuse from his past, his emotions of pain, anger, and insecurity. His nose ran and his face was soaked with tears, his shoulders trembling with the sensation of finally expelling what he had kept contained for so long. He couldn't stop himself.
He hadn't wanted to, actually.
When the words finally, mercifully, slowed and came to a stop, like the trickling of a dying spring, Shishio had stood. He looked down at Soujiro for several moments with narrow eyes. Then he walked away. And as he passed, his hand rested for the slightest moment against Soujiro's shoulder.
Never again. Soujiro suppressed a shudder. He could not afford to fall apart. Never. Especially not tonight, with Tae. Particularly since last night, he had thought... he had flattered himself into thinking of Tae's kindness and wondering if perhaps... if things had turned out differently...
But that was a foolish, pointless thought.
Tsubame tipped her head back to gaze up at the sky and sighed. "Do you think it will snow again tonight, Soujiro-san?"
"I hope so," he murmured, and he did - for a moment he wished that all the world could be buried in a sparkling, heavy powder until everything was silent and still. He wished that everything could dissolve into an oblivion of whiteness until nothing was left.
Except, perhaps, the sight of crystalline flakes melting against dark lashes.
As the sun slowly sank beyond the distant horizon, pouring what little color it possessed into the fallen snow and shading it a pale rose, the Bōnenkai began.
At first Soujiro was surprised at Tae's choice of appetizer - an offering of onigiri with various fillings inside - until he heard Urato tell off Yahiko for selecting the one he had requested from Tae. So he waited for everyone to take the ones they had specially ordered, then took what was left. He glanced at Tae, wondering if the one in his hand had been made for him in mind or if it was simply an extra, but she didn't meet his eye. She was in service mode, her mind entirely on the task of playing the hostess. She nodded her head graciously at the thanks thrown her way, which were muffled around mouthfuls of food, and smiled as she gently placed the flat sake cups by each plate, but her emotion was for show only; her movements were too precise, her gestures possessing a perfection that was impossible to conceal. Behind her mild expression, Soujiro could almost see her mind skirting onto the detail of the proper time to take their empty plates away, how much sake to bring to the table, and how she would bring in their main course. It reminded Soujiro of the first time he had met Tae, those years ago. Her flawless performance, her unfailing facade - they were things that he remembered still, even now.
When Tae brought out the sake, a roar of approval rose from the table - loudest from the chefs, unsurprisingly. She circled the table, filling the cups herself for the first drink. When it came to be his turn, Soujiro accepted the liquor with a short nod - it was either that or be terribly rude, and politeness came so easily to him now - but he didn't touch it. Maybe I'll leave it as an offering to the spirits, he mused as he refilled his teacup from the pot in front of him. Or maybe I'll put it on the storehouse step for the 'ghost' to enjoy.
Beyond the paper windows, the sky had darkened to a heavy blue. Tae took away the plates and brought out large bowls, steam undulating upwards in lazy spirals. Soujiro ignored the sighs of appreciation from the others as he stirred the contents of his soup. It was some sort of nabe with udon, he noted, and deftly twirled a long noodle around his chopsticks. The moment his mouth closed around it, he stiffened.
Kyoto. It tasted like Kyoto. Like humid summers and mild winters, of exhaustion and pride after lengthy exercise. Like glimpsing the skyline of tiered pagodas against cloudless blue and running, realizing the world held no boundaries when he was faster than the wind. It tasted like satisfaction and contentment. It tasted like memory.
It tasted like Kyoto.
She couldn't know. Tae couldn't know - she had only made a dish from her hometown, one she made each Bōnenkai, so it shouldn't have made a difference. But it did. Somehow, it seemed like it made all the difference in the world.
He looked over at Tae once again, and this time he caught her gaze. She just smiled at him - her blandly courteous smile - and then she seemed to realize who she was looking at. She blinked and the smile wavered. For a split second, he saw the nervousness and hopefulness she was striving to suppress - because of him? he wondered - and so he smiled. The tension in her posture eased visibly and she gave him a quick nod and turned to pour herself more sake.
The meal continued into the night. Soujiro watched as, slowly, one by one, everyone at the table caved to the allure of the sake. Unsurprisingly, the two chefs were the first ones to go. They did have a drinking contest, just as Tsubame predicted they would, and then promptly lost count of the number of glasses they had downed. Eventually they slumped onto the floor, leaving everyone else the difficult task of trying to ignore the sounds of their combined snoring.
Yahiko and Tsubame, sitting side by side, leaned closer and closer to each other until Tsubame's head was resting on Yahiko's shoulder. Her voice was a soft murmur of sounds that Soujiro, across the table from them, couldn't make out. But every once in a while Yahiko nodded or smiled. He was taking his sake stoically, merely sipping the liquor as he stared, unseeing, at the far corner of the room. Perhaps he was thinking of the past year, or even the many years gone past when he had worked at the Akabeko. Or perhaps he was just thinking of Tsubame; he had one arm around her back and was idly, almost unconsciously, running his thumb slowly up and down her arm.
It was so obvious that they both liked each other. Soujiro wondered why Yahiko didn't openly court Tsubame - or, at the very least, why he didn't take her as a mistress, like Shishio did with Yumi.
But it was Tae who was proving the most interesting to observe at the table; she was draining her sake cup with a speed that hardly seemed possible for so conservative and mild a woman as her. She kept refilling her glass between Hana's jokes - if they really were jokes, anyway. Hana hadn't yet cracked a smile, yet Tae was laughing as if they were the funniest things she'd ever heard. But what caught Soujiro's attention was the way her eyes flickered to his each time she tipped her head back to swallow. It was almost as if she was saying look at me, watch me drink as I think of you. Reading her ki didn't help; drunk emotions were usually so easy to read but hers were muddled, flashing back and forth in a spectrum of happiness, thoughtfulness and sorrow.
So when she got up, muttering about forgetting something in the kitchen, Soujiro rose to follow. He found her leaning against the counter, staring down at a bowl of rice. "I should have brought it earlier," she said to herself. "Now it's all cold, and... no one will want it now, how wasteful."
"You could still bring it out." He suggested from the doorway. "I've heard that rice helps to soak up alcohol."
She turned to look at him. "Oh, Soujiro. D'you... do you think that's a good idea? Urato-san and Nizuno-san are already... and it's cold." She gestured, to illustrate her point.
He smiled at the dropped honorific. Tae felt close enough - familiar enough - on some level of her subconscious to just call him by his name, even though her wits were scrambled by the sake. It was a small victory, and Soujiro relished it. "I don't think anyone will notice," he said.
She pursed her lips. "But I would notice." She let her breath out in a long sigh and pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. Her unbuttoned sleeve slipped down to her elbow, showing pale skin. "I think I'm starting to get a headache. My head is pounding. Do you... do you have a headache, Soujiro?"
He laughed. "No. But then, I'm not drunk."
"Drunk..." She dropped her hand and smoothed the front of her dress. "I think I am. How unprofessional of me. I'm sorry, please forgive me."
He raised his eyebrows at her, unable to hide his smirk. "Nope. You're too funny, Tae-san."
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry," she said again and pushed herself away from the counter. "I suppose... I suppose I should - "
Tae swayed and her knees buckled beneath her. Soujiro darted to her side and caught her before she hit the ground. He felt her heartbeat flutter beneath her ribs, felt her hands tremble as they curled into the folds of his waistcoat. She reeked of sake. "Are you alright?" He asked her mildly.
She peered up at him, her eyes glassy and wide from the alcohol. The amazement was written clearly on her face. "You... you caught me," she said breathlessly.
"Of course," he replied.
She swallowed. "You caught me," she said again, and her voice was softer, heavier than before. Her hands tightened against his chest and she pulled herself up to meet him, her eyes flickering closed before she pressed her lips against his.
It was a chaste kiss, nothing more than the gentle press of skin against skin. Soujiro could taste the alcohol on her lips, could smell it on her. But beneath the sake was something else - a fragrance that was sweet and almost pure. He recognized it, or thought he did. It pricked the edge of his memory, begging to be identified...
Tae sighed against him, her hands loosening on his clothes. She slid away from him and began to slump to the ground before Soujiro caught her again. He placed one of her arms around his shoulders and stood, cradling her in his arms. "I think you would feel better if you just went to sleep, Tae-san," he told her quietly, and headed off down the hall.
Despite his smaller stature, Soujiro was stronger than he looked. Naturally he didn't have the same strength of nearly half the Juppongatana, but he had always had the ability to do what he'd needed to do. So getting up the stairs with Tae, he thought, would be exactly the same. And it was, except for the fact that she was taller than he, which resulted in a few times where her dangling arm or legs bumped into the wall - and he'd wince and chirp "sorry, Tae-san!" because there really wasn't much else he could do - and because she weighed rather more than he was expecting a girl to weigh. He supposed it was her added height, or all that ingested alcohol.
He managed to slide open her door, but then he'd had to fetch out her futon and lay it out - not so easy to do with an unconscious woman in your arms - before cautiously stretching her out on the padding. She was still sound asleep, her body limp and heavy. Her headache would probably be worse in the morning, Soujiro knew. He smiled, wondering if he would be the only one tomorrow without a headache as he pulled her blanket up over her. As he tucked it under her chin, he glanced up at her sleeping face. Her lashes were beautiful against her cheeks, her tousled hair endearingly out of place.
You caught me, she had said. Her words echoed in his mind, a gentle murmur of emotion mixed with dawning realization. She had smiled after she said it, the simple motion transforming her face completely. She looked happy. Glad.
Glad that... he was the one who caught her heart?
Abruptly Soujiro stood. This is a dangerous game, he thought, gazing down at her. Remember the end goal: the Battousai. Answers. Truth. Tae is the means to that end. He didn't love her. He didn't share the feeling he had bred in her.
But the idea that Tae was somehow pleased that he was the one - it was too much. His heart, or the place in his chest where his heart should have been, had jumped a little. Pounded with - with what? And it was warm there, he felt warm where he should not. He had no emotions. He worked so hard to have no heart -
And it was still there, all the same. The little warmth. The glow.
But it was far too late to stop the plan, he told himself, turning away. It was progressing so well, so seamlessly -
The worst he could do was destroy it all by letting a little of those emotions out.
And he would not allow himself to fail.
A/N:
Bōnenkai - a long tradition, it first began in the 15th century and was called noukai (literally meaning 'achieved great things party'). It changed to Bōnenkai ('forget the year party') in the 18th century. Nowadays in Japan, it's a big deal. Employers usually rent out restaurants or event rooms in hotels, because they want all their employees to come. And everyone drinks - a lot.
Soujiro's behavior while drunk - I thought about this for a long time, and a couple things decided me: one is the fact that alcohol loosens people up. But what sort of an effect would that have on Sou, who had no emotions? That question, along with his reaction while fighting Kenshin in the Room of Reduced Space - where his confusion and flashbacks to the past basically nullified his zero-ki ability - led me to believe that sake would open up the containment of his memories and hurt emotions. Since Sou's skills are born from holding himself together and suppressing his feelings, I'm sure he would stay away from sake as much as possible.
