Chapter Text
“I am the sole keeper of the party spirit,” Uzui declared as he stood proudly on the table. “I control the cask!” He threw back another cup of wine.
Rengoku nodded. This was about standard Uzui party behavior. No one was even paying attention anymore.
“What are you the god of?” he asked helpfully, refilling Uzui’s cup. He didn’t drink at these little get togethers, alcohol wasn’t his thing, but he loved to see his fellow pillars having a good time. Plus, the food was good and there was lots of it.
“I’m the god of style and flamboyance- no, festivities and good marriages.” Tengen explained with a straight face. Sudden despair fell upon him. “Wait- where are my wives?”
Rengoku reassured his colleague that his wives were working (“They work so hard,” Uzui said, crestfallen and hair falling in his eyes, before he brightened. “I love them so much.”) Then he went to find Shinobu, leaving Uzui to talk animatedly about his wives at the stone wall that was Shinazugawa.
Shinobu was seated in the corner, having a very giggly conversation with Mitsuri, who was eating her weight in mochi. You had to give Master Oyakata props for his catering, the food never ran out.
It wasn’t uncommon for Master Oyakata to convene small meetings of the pillars. Often there would be food and tea there. They were brief, formalized affairs and everyone left quickly so they could return to their duties. Once a year, however, during midsummer when the days were long and the demons quiet, their lord let them all relax a little.
The modest dinner he held for all the current pillars was not exactly excessive, he was a mild man. The party that raged after his family went to bed tended to get a little more out of hand. They all knew they revelled with their patron’s blessing- he was the one who laid out a little room and made sure there was food and drink a plenty and warm beds for them to collapse into by morning. But there was still an air of transgression to the whole affair, like they were children stealing sips of their father’s wine.
It was the wine Rengoku was worried about this year.
After much cooing about how pretty his hair was and how nice the food was (it was really good), Rengoku managed to peel Kochou away from Mitsuri.
“Little butterfly sister!” he said affectionately, patting Kochou’s loose hair, “What is everyone drinking?”
Shinobu offering to make the drinks this year hadn't been suspicious at the time. Now it seemed like a glaring warning sign.
She blinked up at him, looking alarmingly aware for someone her size who had just put away at least three cups of a beverage that had Uzui singing street ballads like a trained actor.
“Rengoku, it’s just flowers and fruit with some yeast. All the ingredients came from my own garden.”
Some fairly nasty concoctions had been known to arise from Shinobu Kochou’s gardens. Rengoku looked over the room. Uzui was happy and Mitsuri’s company had been stolen by a blushing Iguro-good for them!- but Himejima was sobbing harder than usual (despite limiting himself to one cup)and next to him Tomioka seemed to be contemplating the ceiling with a decidedly fatalistic look in his eyes. It was not appropriately joyous.
The air smelled like the triple distilled plum liquor his father used to drink and that brought back memories too. The whole place needed a party intervention, immediately.
“Why aren’t you drinking, dear flame?” Kochou asked lightly.
Getting in to his personal issues would definitely detract from the party atmosphere Rengoku hoped to nurture so he laughed. “Someone has to be on duty if a demon attacks. All the Pillars compromised? How our enemies would rejoice, haha!”
(Behind him he could hear Iguro fumblingly confessing, “No, I really, really like you. You’re so fun and pretty…”
“I really like you too, Obanai!” Mitsuri said with equal honesty “Can I pet your snake?”)
“The newbie was supposed to be our designated fighter,” Kochou pointed out with her usual cutting grace. “You know, because he’s approximately twelve. We all voted. Enjoy yourself, Rengoku.”
“Tokitou fell asleep under the table a while ago,” he informed her. If you knew where to look you could see a few inches of blue hair. “I want to let him get his rest. Besides, I don’t need to partake to be the brightest flame in this room! You can’t out-party me.”
Shinobu made a little humming noise, like the buzzing of a bee. “Maybe so. Fill me up?” She held out her cup.
Dutifully, he found the nearest pitcher and topped up her glass. Then, to his surprise, she pressed a small ceramic cup into his hands.
“It’s water,” she promised. “I wasn’t going to let you all get drunk and dehydrated.”
He took a tentative sip and was pleased to find it was only water, flavoured lightly with mandarin juice.
Kochou poked him. “I think I figured it out. With your hair and clothes… if you turn red it would be ridiculous.”
He smiled. Even if she did brew wine strong enough to down a boar, he liked Shinobu. “Whoops, you found me out.”
She stood on tip-toes and brushed her long eyelashes against his cheek, a sort of fluttering, affectionate kiss. It was then that Rengoku realized that she was very tipsy. The girl could act sober remarkably well.
“Partake too much of your own poison?” he asked, steadying her with one hand.
“Just a little. I’m gonna go make sure Mitsuri doesn’t accidentally get engaged.” It was a pressing concern. Mitsuri was leaning over Kaburamaru with the lovestruck expression of a new bride, slowly stroking the snake’s scales. Iguro’s stare, fixed on her, was equally besotted.
“A valiant quest. I will match it by fixing… that,” He gestured over at Tomioka and Himejima. If you listened you could just barely hear the Water Pillar confiding that he ought to be dead and that his continued existence was a conundrum as Himejima clutched his shoulders and muttered assurances through tears.
“Good luck.” Shinobu rolled her eyes. “Giyuu gets so maudlin, poor silly thing. Mitsuri! Did you see these bowls of wasabi peas!”
Distracting Tomioka and Himejima from their existential despair took a lot of concentrated effort and the introduction of a Hanafuda deck. Himejima still sometimes sniffled when he heard the wisteria cards called but there was nothing that could be done about that except give him periodic manly shoulder pats.
When Rengoku finally looked up from his plate of food and new life mission of absolutely destroying his friends at Koi-Koi (not too hard since one of them was blind and one was plastered), it was only because Uzui was stepping lightly over his cards, holding Kochou tightly to his chest.
It took a second to identify the strange stepping back and forth that they were doing as a dance, but it was. A Western dance, intimate and stiff at the same time. Mitsuri (who had stopped speaking Portuguese at a rapt and befuddled Iguro to watch her friend) taught it to him one rainy day and she must have taught Shinobu as well because now the Insect Pillar was leading the Sound Pillar in tight, fast circles around the room. They jumped over tables and dressers, spun around pitchers of flower wine, and managed to avoid tripping over Tokitou’s arm flung out from underneath some furniture, before coming to an elegant halt in the center of the high table.
When they finished and took an overexaggerated bow, Mitsuri and Rengoku both cheered. Even Iguro, clinging to Mitsuri’s arm like a limpet, clapped a few times.
“My sister-” Tomioka began, and Rengoku braced himself. “My sister was an excellent dancer.”
In spite of all Rengoku’s best efforts, the tears started up again.
Then, with a resounding clunk of wood on wood, Shinazugawa stood.
He’d been quietly drinking for the last hour at least, not even bothering to ask other people to fill up his glass. He ought to be on the floor like little Tokitou, but Sanemi had always defied expectations. Now the whole room was still, waiting for his judgement.
He stumbled forward and Rengoku went to intercept him. “Shinazugawa! The party’s been waiting for you.”
Fury was to be expected. There were angry drunks in the world, Rengoku knew that well, and it wasn’t too ridiculous to think Shinazugawa was among their number. He had hidden depths but not so hidden rage.
“Rengoku,” Sanemi’s eyes weren’t as hard as they usually were. “Rengoku I have something to tell you.”
“Sure, buddy! Do you want to sit down first?” If he was sitting he was less likely to start a fight. It was harder to get the momentum behind a good punch going while cross legged.
Shakily, Shinazugawa sat but he didn’t let go of Kyojurou’s arm. “Rengoku…”
“Yes?”
Sanemi's face shone. “You’re all so important to me. I don’t say that enough. I love you all so much, all of you. It’s been so long since I’ve had people I felt like I wasn’t endangering…”
Huh. He hadn’t expected that. Shinazugawa had never gotten like this at previous get togethers. Admittedly he'd never gotten drunk off of Kochou's personal brew at those parties either.
Now even Shinazugawa was starting to cry. Kochou and Iguro were barely restraining Mitsuri from throwing herself at him with boundless comfort and rapidly escaping breasts.
Himejima laid a solid hand on Shinazugawa's head. "You are a valued Demon Slayer and a dear friend. Loss can hurt all of us but we must not become stone. We must feel the pain of the world."
With Shinazugawa advised by the best, Rengoku looked around the designated party space, full of tipped over stools, empty plates and pitchers, and teary Pillars.
“Right,” he said. “I’m cutting all of you off.”
“Awwww!”
"Boo!" Kochou shouted.
“No fair...”
“I’m not drunk-” Tomioka protested, looking up from his cards.
“Ah, ah, ah! I’m cutting you all off because we’re going outside and go swimming in the pond. Hopefully the koi learned their lesson and now know better than to try to eat our toes.”
To destroy the tranquility of the Master’s garden was a crime. None of them would dare on any normal night. Tonight was the night of rejoicing, however, the closest thing the Pillars had to a festival. It had been another year and they were alive tonight. Exuberance was expected of them.
A resounding cry went up, overjoyed and a little overwhelmed, and Rengoku joined in. He wasn’t going to be a stick in the mud.
If they were really lucky, Master Oyakata had left out bonfire supplies. There was no guarantee after how badly last year’s fire had gone (Rengoku did not deny his crimes but he did plead clemency). Their lord was known for his generosity, however.
Holding each other’s hands for balance and security, the Pillars-sans-the-sleeping-Muichirou trooped out.
Then, after a second, Rengoku ran back inside and grabbed the few remaining trays of snacks. It never hurt to bring supplies.
“I love my job,” he whispered around a sticky dumpling. Sure, the downsides included possible death or maiming and lifetime of potential trauma but the perks were great! You saved people and they fed you for it.
“Let’s get this party started .”