1. Chapter 1 (1/2)
this
is a (late, yet again) birthday gift for greenspine, because she is
awesome.
warnings:
umm...not much, really. a bit preslashy, if you want to think of it
that way, and some alcohol consumption. i don't even think there's
any swearing.
disclaimer:
i still don't own tasuki and chichiri. :sigh:
---afterward---
"ya
said ya would, chichiri," tasuki reminds him.
chichiri
thinks it's rather remarkable that tasuki can be so persistent
about something so insignificant when they've just been returned to
their own world after fighting one of the most powerful (and
psychotic) people ever to exist in either reality.
"no,"
he corrects his friend, "i said that i'd go try some sake in
miaka's world, no da. it isn't my fault we were sent back
before i could." truthfully, chichiri had only made that promise
because he fully expected not to survive their encounter with nakago.
now that he has, he is beginning to regret his words.
"well,
if ya wanna be specific about it, what ya said was that ya'd
go with me ta drink some foreign sake." tasuki pauses.
chichiri
waits with a sense of impending doom.
"lucky
fer you, i know a place in th' city that imports sake from sairou."
tasuki grins triumphantly. "ya ain't gettin' out a' this
one."
there
is nothing chichiri can say to that. he sighs, and allows tasuki to
lead him away.
---
the
tavern is dim and faintly smoky. chichiri can't find anything about
it which distinguishes it from any of the other taverns he's been
into (although, admittedly, that isn't too many,) but the minute
they walk in the door, tasuki announces that this is "his fav'rite
place." the bartender seems to know tasuki, and waves them towards
a vacant table.
a
few moments later, a waitress appears with a sake bottle and two
bowls on a tray. "kihana-san assumed you would want your usual,
sir," she tells tasuki, setting the tray on the table. tasuki
thanks her, and she bows and disappears again.
tasuki
pours the sake and pushes a bowl towards chichiri. "drink up," he
says happily.
---
chichiri
takes another slow sip of sake. he isn't sure exactly how much he's
had; tasuki pours generously and often. chichiri stopped setting his
bowl down between sips when it became clear that tasuki interpreted
that as a request for a refill.
a
hand suddenly invades his field of vision. chichiri bats it away from
his bangs irritably, and looks across the table to see tasuki
regarding him solemnly.
"yer
hair's weird," tasuki informs him. "how's it do that,
anyway?"
chichiri
pushes his chair away from the table. "i think you've had enough,
no da." and so have i, he realizes, when he finds that
standing up makes his head spin momentarily.
tasuki
protests, of course. it isn't in his nature to allow anyone to
believe that he is vulnerable to alcohol poisoning. one day,
chichiri tells himself, sighing inwardly, one day, i'll just
let him to drink himself sick. it is a promise that he has made
many times, one that he knows to be hollow even as he thinks it. he
makes his way around the table, ready to pry tasuki out of his seat
if necessary, but finds that the bandit is already standing. tasuki
wobbles slightly, and chichiri places a hand on his shoulder.
"i'm
okay," tasuki says. "thanks."