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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 .”

Chapter Text

There was a bonfire behind the kitchen where the servants practiced their swordplay and the open flames brought new vigor to the tipsy Pillars. They were all young and likely to die young, they couldn't waste these small moments of joy. 

Shinobu was chatting with Sanemi about their respective messiest kills (a game Shinobu almost always won, if only because she could melt demons' faces) as Kyoujurou spun Mitsuri in an enthusiastic western Waltz made more exciting by the burning branches they were both holding in their spare hands. Uzui clapped in time with them. Obanai was fiddling with Himejima's prayer beads as the monk hummed a mantra in time with the three step beat of the dancers. Tomioka had gotten waylaid at the koi pond but had eventually rejoined them and was now laying on his back in the gravel, staring at the stars. The only one missing was Muichirou and he deserved his rest. 

"Turning purple isn't messy," Sanemi was arguing, his face red from the alcohol and warm night air. "Messy is blood and guts, right? Entrails every damn-excuse my language, ma'am- place."

"I have done dissections, you know," Shinobu replied. They were one of the less tasteful parts of her job but necessary to figure out poison dosing and effects in the earlier days. She was lucky she'd figured out the analgesic effects of certain marechi early on, otherwise the screaming of the demons would have simply been unbearable. 

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Those are clean, relatively speaking. Have you ever watched your own finger get bitten halfway off? Seen the messy bitemarks in your own skin?"

"I helped sew your finger back on!" she reminded him, laughing. 

"After the Kakushi cleaned me up a little and did the basic first aid. But at first I could see blood pumping out of this artery-" he grabbed her hand and held it up to the firelight to point out the appropriate path of blue, "With every heart beat. Could see the raw meat inside."

He froze. Just as well, Shinobu was getting a bit tired of this contest of remembered gore. It was a little concerning, however, when he turned her hand very carefully towards his and compared the two of them palm to palm. 

"Holy crap. Everyone, come over here! Kochou's hands are so damn tiny."

The dancing ground to a halt and within a second Shinobu was surrounded by wide eyed Demon Slayers. Uzui took her hand from Shinazugawa and pressed it against his own. "Shockingly small," he agreed. 

"But powerful," added Mitsuri, who always thought of other people. "The hands of a Demon Slayer."

"Indeed," Uzui said quickly. "You pack such flamboyant panache into your frame."

Mitsuri grabbed her other wrist and inspected her limp hand. "Awww, so cute!"

Grinning like a demon, Rengoku nodded. 

"None of you are going to get hangover cures tomorrow morning," Shinobu warned, futilely trying to pull away. "We'll have joint training and you'll be miserable!"

Sanemi shrugged. "We're Pillars, we've faced worse than training with a migraine. More important is the fact that I could crush your tiny hand right here." To demonstrate, he squeezed just hard enough to make her bones protest. 

"Or maybe I'll give you a cure and it'll make you worse," Shinobu continued, only to have her cheerful warnings fall on deaf ears. 

Tomioka wandered over. When he saw Shinobu's hands clasped in the other's, he frowned. "What's going on?"

"Good natured bonding!" Kyoujurou said and slapped Shinobu on the shoulder. 

"Oh. Are we making fun of Kochou now? I think it's her turn."

Rengoku waved a hand. "It's not making fun, it's group team building, and it's important!" 

Mitsuri's eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. "The whole group...Himejima, please come over here?"

As the oldest and most serious (and teariest) of the Pillars, Himejima had been staying out out of the way, along with, oddly enough, Iguro. Now they both trooped over. 

"Give me your hand," Mitsuri ordered, taking charge as she sometimes did when she had an idea that simply had to be realized. 

Smiling faintly though his tears, Himejima held out his large hand. Immediately, Mitsuri pressed Shinobu's down on top of it.

There was a thoughtful silence before the inevitable shriek. 

"It's so adorable!"

"There is a pleasing symmetry," agreed Uzui, misty-eyed. "It reminds me of-"

"Your wives, we know old man," Iguro stepped out from Himejima's shadow just long enough to throw a sharp glance Uzui's way. 

"Iguro, what about you?" Mitsuri offered. "You haven't seen how tiny Shinobu is, you should come over here. She's really cool, I can't believe she's so powerful even though-"

"I'm built like a child?" Shinobu snapped, but she quickly softened. They were all still a little drunk and happy to be alive. And they were being kind about it and she was the second youngest Pillar. A bit of teasing was part of the job. Based on Kanae's old stories, the former roster hadn't stopped making fun of Sanemi for months. 

"Like a butterfly," Uzui suggested. "It pays to embrace your image. True flamboyance comes from uniqueness."

She reluctantly extended her hand once more as Mitsuri took a blushing Iguro's. But rather than press them together and coo over the contrast, Kanroji just stared at Iguro's hand in hers. 

"Guys," she said softly, voice full of wonder. "I think Iguro is even tinier than Kochou."

There were cries of disbelief and Shinobu was forced to hold her hand up to a rapidly reddening Iguro's by a delighted Mitsuri. The verdict was clear. Although a sun or two taller than her, Iguro was clearly more slightly built. 

"Wow!" said Rengoku, the only sober one at their gathering and yet still unabashedly himself. He reached for Iguro's hand...

Iguro, in a show of remarkable self control, did not bite him. His snake, however, did. 

"I'm not going to say you didn't deserve it," Shinobu said, as they sat to the side bandaging the shallow wound. "Honestly, mind your manners."

Kyoujurou bowed his head. "Understood. Now, come dance with us, Lady Kochou? I promise we won't step on your tiny butterfly feet."

The fire was still burning and the night, though getting old, was still alive. Her teammates were only slightly insufferable. 

She let herself be pulled into the fireside tumble, which had transformed from a Waltz to the sharp, synchronized movements of a festival dance, one patched together out of little bits of all of their homes. 

The next day, as her fellow Pillars groaned and tried to look sharp for Master Oyakata, Shinobu sipped her spicy soup (laced with sugar, salts, and enough pain killer and rice liquor to cut the fuzziness in her head without cutting into her effectiveness) and then, out of pity and kindness, gave in and passed her flask around. 

Chapter Text

The Pillars awoke after a night of revelry (debauchery, Uzui insisted, though everyone stayed quite firmly bauched) before the sun rose. They ran through drills together in the yard for an hour with their heads pounding until Master Oyakata awoke and Kochou took pity on them. With their leader's eyes on them and Kochou's clever concoction clearing their heads, they could head towards breakfast as upright vassals. 

In previous years, the Master would stay for all of breakfast. A handful of the Pillars remembered the days when he would even wake up with them in the morning and watch training, smiling softly and speaking encouragements whenever the inter-Pillar cooperation proved difficult. His health was fading fast, though, and he bowed out before Mitsuri finished her seventh bowl. Lady Ubayashiki accompanied him, as always, and the little lord and ladies were already sequestered with their teachers, learning the skills they would need to command the Demon Slayers of the future. That left just the Pillars and a lot of food alone in the wide chamber. 

No one was in a hurry to get back to training. They only had a limited amount of Pillar team building before duty called again, and it would doubtless be useful if they were ever faced with an Upper Moon or, if they were so lucky, Kibutsuji himself.

But the food was good, the air was thick with wisteria incense, and the urge to relax was just a little too strong. Surely they could sit for five more minutes. 

Iguro hadn’t gotten where he was by slacking off. He stretched from a sitting position as his colleagues chattered. Next to him, Mitsuri was a steady weight, all muscle and softness. 

Rengoku finally tapped out, putting his chopsticks down. Mitsuri was still going strong and Himejima (a dark horse of consumption) was making his way through a second serving of natto, so rather than try to rouse the troops he reached over and flicked a bit of rice off of Tokitou’s face. 

“Careful there, Mist Pillar!” he said, far too jovially, in Iguro’s opinion. “A battle face is important.”

Tokitou nodded absent-mindedly, looking at the ceiling as if the secrets of defeating Kibutsuji were written there. On his other side, Kochou stifled a giggle. 

“Little Tokitou!” Kochou said cheerfully, in a voice so loud that several of the Pillar (Tomioka and Shinazugawa, the soused bastards) winced. “Little Tokitou, how was your night last night?”

Iguro rolled his eyes. Once you got Kochou chatting it was hard to shut her up. She made being a nice person into a cut throat competition. 

After a moment, Tokitou’s eyes focused on her. “Huh?”

Uzui, always an enabler, slapped a hand on the table, setting off another round of flinches. “We asked what you thought of our festivities? Did you enjoy the flamboyance?”

It was Tokitou’s first year among them. With good fortune, it wouldn’t be his last, Iguro thought cynically. The boy had talent and Master Oyakata and Lady Ubayashiki clearly liked him but he was even ditzier than Tomioka. 

“I don’t know,” Tokitou shrugged. “What happened after I fell asleep?”

The gleaming smile Uzui gave was a clear warning sign. Even Mitsuri, who needed her strength, stopped eating to watch when she saw that diamond grin. 

“How wonderful of you to ask. Our bacchanalia stretched long into the night and grew quite intense.”

This was true. 

“I fought a bear,” Uzui said with nothing but sparkling honesty on his face. The Sound Pillar would have made a good living as an actor if he hadn’t decided that defending humanity had more pizzazz. He could lie with such intensity you almost believed it yourself. 

Shinazugawa groaned. Then, after a second of processing, Mitsuri giggled. The sound was so divine Iguro’s heart almost stopped. He didn’t dare look over at her. She would be blushing too, she always did when she laughed. 

“That’s true!” Mitsuri said between chuckles. “A whole bear!”

Rengoku, clearly trying to get in on the fun but not actually wanting to lie, added, “And we made friends with a cat!”

It was the kitchen mouser, who they’d met in the garden and cooed over for half an hour before Kochou lost patience with them. Iguro was pretty sure Himejima had still smuggled the old tom back to his room under his cape. 

“I like cats,” Tokitou agreed, barely acknowledging Uzui’s contribution. Predictably, this made Uzui go bigger, in the pursuit of stylistic integrity. 

“Tomioka and Shinobu got married,” he told the table, defiant flamboyance written on his face. A few seats down, Tomioka choked on a spoonful of soup. The expression that passed over Shinobu’s face wasn’t quite embarrassment. Anger was more accurate. Then it was gone and she was smiling and playing along. 

Mitsuri’s giggles only picked up in rate, until there was a breathlessness to them. It wasn’t fair that Uzui could entertain her so easily! He already had three wives!

“They said,” Mitsuri claimed, shrill with joy, “they said they want three kids!”

Uzui beamed like a proud father watching his first son reach adulthood. 

“I nearly lit Himejima on fire,” Rengoku said truthfully, still not entirely grasping the point of the game, or perhaps willfully misunderstanding.

Despite these wild (and in some cases, accurate) claims, Tokitou remained unfrazzled. 

This prompted Uzui to raise the stakes. “Master Oyakata hired courtesans to perform a series of-”

Silently, Shinazugawa (the heaviest drinker last night and therefore the quietest Pillar this morning) stood up, leaned over, and smacked Uzui hard upside the head. Some amount of bad behavior was to be expected after their one night off, but bad mouthing the lord was not tolerated, especially not by Shinazugawa. 

“Entirely respectful and fully clothed cultural dances!” Uzui amended quickly. 

“ Very cute.” Mitsuri emphasized, her attack of the giggles settling down a little. 

“Shinazugawa kept swearing even after Kochou kicked him,” Rengoku told no one in particular. This was a half truth, if Iguro’s hazy memories were accurate. 10 drink Shinazugawa sobering into 9 drink Shinazaugawa did have the vocabulary of a sailor but it was Tomioka who had threatened to throw him into the lake. 

“Buddha have mercy on you all,” Himejima said, which might have been a generalized Himejima statement or may have been a specific comment on the state of his peers. Given that he would have woken up with his scar lovingly covered in handmade poultice (which was really just crushed wisteria and some dirt) thanks to a very tipsy team effort, Iguro was leaning towards the latter. 

“So,” Uzui finished, “What do you think about that?”

Tokitou looked down from the ceiling and surveyed them, Mitsuri’s red face, Rengoku’s slight apprehension that seemed more damning than any fear, Uzui’s bold smile and slightly sloppy eye makeup, Tomioka’s traumatized murmuring, and Kochou’s slightly too tight grin. Most damning of all was probably Shinazugawa and Himejima, usually united in their rejection of antics, trying to distance themselves from the situation. 

And Iguro, of course, watching like a snake and feeding his snake bites of dried fish. 

“I think… you might be lying to me.”

“Oh thank goodness you figured it out.” Rengoku sighed, nearly collapsing onto Tokitou’s shoulder. “It was really hard to keep up the illusion like that!”

Mitsuri laughed. “I knew we couldn’t fool you, Muichirou!”

Uzui clicked his tongue. “Well, I suppose it was too much to ask you to believe me with this lot dragging down the performance. I swear, we need joint flamboyance training.”

Kochou diverted the conversation neatly. “So, what did you get up to without us, Tokitou? You weren’t there when we went to take you to your bed.”

The Pillars had trooped back inside long after midnight and had stopped to check on Tokitou before they retired to their respective guest rooms. The boy hadn’t been where they left him, napping on the floor of the long receiving room where Master Oyakata let them hold their festivities, and that had sparked a frantic ten minute, muffled search of the sleeping mansion. They’d finally found him in his own room, fast asleep. 

To everyone’s surprise, Tokitou cracked a rare smile. “I think, I think I remember. I woke up and couldn’t find you all. Then I went outside and stood on the porch and watched you for a while.”

Ah. That would do it. 

Tokitou’s smile turned pensive. “You all got up to some real dumb shit.”

A sound like somewhere between a wheeze and a laugh came out of Shinazugawa of all people. He wiped his mouth and looked up. 

“Kid’s got us there.”