"Then it can't be helped. Drink, my friend! Since you won't turn back, at least stay here for a while. Just a little while." — Kyōraku Shunsui.
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Two figures sat under a leaning tree, its full canopy of leaves filtering the pale glow of the moon into streaks of wayward rays that scattered itself over their forms. Two gourds and cups stood strong before them, the swirling liquid in it clearly capturing the moonlight rays as dots of light over its surface.
Kyōraku and Itachi spoke slowly, sometimes between long pauses, as they took confident sips of their wine, moderation a virtue neither were willing to consider.
Crickets and other night critters sang their song as both men drank their wine and let their words flow out without weighing them.
Itachi reached for one of the gourds to refill his cup only to sigh despondently when he saw that it was empty.
He picked up the other gourd and shook it, prompting a thoughtful frown to grow on his face. Barely a quarter of its content was remaining.
He sighed again before slowly leaning back against the tree. "We're out of wine. Barely a cup left of the good one."
Kyōraku chuckled weakly from his side. "Don't be so sure." He reached into his sleeves and pulled out a slightly bigger gourd. "Lisa and Nanao tried… but they couldn't confiscate everything."
"Smart man." Itachi nodded, his normally calm voice was now bearing a wobble. He corked open the gourd and took a sniff of the intoxicating waft. He poured into his cup and Kyōraku's and downed his in a single gulp.
"Good stuff." He remarked with a determined nod. "Really good stuff." He poured himself another cup and leaned back into the tree.
The silence, once again, was thrown over them like a blanket, accompanied occasionally by singing crickets and the soft whispers of the wind.
"How wasted are you?" Like a peaceful routine, the silence was not allowed to stretch its legs for long, as Kyōraku broke it in his slumped posture with his loose hair wildly framing his face.
The reply took a few seconds, seconds which Itachi probably used to access his current state. "More than I've ever been, but not as much as I want to be."
Kyōraku hummed, his thoughts on the reply veiled, or maybe it was too much to needle in his inebriated state.
"How much?" He could hear Itachi drinking down his cup but his current posture was prime positioning and he didn't want to risk it by making any unnecessary movements.
He heard the sharp exhale that usually followed a good amount of alcohol intake.
"Enough that this will look like a terrible decision when next I wake up."
A sharp hiccup interrupted Kyōraku's chuckling. His hand snaked to his cup and brought it to his lips to once again indulge and imbibe.
"You need two more bottles for that." He smacked his lips to spike the wine's aftertaste. "Luckily for you, your best bud Shunsui knew this would happen."
Two more bottles were added to the tally.
Itachi looked at the bottles and exhaled. It wasn't out of tiredness. It was the physical act of him loosening the grip on his deeper inhibitions.
He needed something to bleed out the jumbled mess in his head. He didn't want to sort out his frustrations or deal with them in the adult way. He did not want to clear his head the violent way by fighting out a sweat. He did not want to deal with this with a calm head or with clinical introspection.
He wanted to bleed them out in their raw form and feel both good and bad about it every step of the way.
For once in his life, he did not want to be orderly. Hence why he had gone to Kyōraku and not Retsu.
To compliment his choice, Kyōraku did not question his nighttime appearance, only told him to hold on and retreated to his private quarters, returned after a minute and told Itachi to follow him that he had just the spot.
"Drink for now," Kyōraku had said when pouring their first cup of the night, "the talk will come later on its own."
Itachi had brought along one bottle of wine with him. Kyōraku had brought four. Foresight truly was the compliment of the wise.
Itachi, on his own volition, had sought an escape, a messy escape, and Kyōraku, without ever needing a reason, had given him the perfect thing he needed.
"That finally did it huh?" Kyōraku chortled from where he huddled over his cup. "I was waiting for when you'd finally stop rationalizing getting drunk. Take this the worst way, but you make for a very poor drunk, Itachi… until tonight that is."
Itachi smiled sadly, at least that it tried to look like. "Can't even deny it if I wanted to." He straightened up a little, leaning upwards against the tree, making his coat completely fall off his back.
He took it off and threw it over his hat. His black kosode was loose but he paid no mind to it as he threw his head against the bark and exhaled again.
He reached for his cup but this time he took a slower sip, not necessarily to savor it but because he was no longer trying to get drunk. He was letting himself get drunk.
"That pent up huh?" Kyōraku let out a drunk whistle.
Itachi laughed softly. He wanted to say something back but the words wouldn't form. Kyōraku understood his current state and let the wine do its work while he continued speaking—more like slurring his words to the nearest recognizable sound.
"If you ask me, especially with how serious you usually are, I'll say this was long overdue. You and Sajin are too alike, except he's less stoic but with double the stiffness." Kyōraku laughed as a funny image formed in his head. "He's like you but if you were an amateur at being you."
The image was truly a funny one as it made Itachi laugh. "I don't think he'd like that very much."
"What?" Kyōraku asked with fake obliviousness. "That he's both bad at being Sajin and Itachi-lite? You know, Byakuya is a better Sajin than Sajin currently is."
"I don't think he would like his character being compared to others, or the insinuation that he is imitating other people."
Kyōraku chuckled. "Or that he's bad at being a brooding Sajin, and that Byakuya can out-Sajin Sajin if it came to the brood?"
They both collapsed into a fit of unrestrained laughter as their last inhibitions were stripped away. They had finally arrived at the drunk flow state.
It took a minute for them to get their chortling under control, and when they did, the first thing they did was to refill their cups and take their first wasted sip, one of many to come.
"So what's up with you?" Kyōraku's voice sounded both soft and loud to Itachi, and felt as if they were entering Itachi's ears at different times. "I mean, it's been long overdue, but I don't think that your job is what tipped you over."
"Not really," he sighed, "not completely."
"Ah. I can recognize that tone anywhere." Kyōraku took another sip, knowing fully well that he was going to need it, an action Itachi copied. "How about it?"
"I… don't know." Itachi replied hesitantly. "I don't even know what to make of it…. I don't how to make anything of it."
Kyōraku looked down at the swirling liquid in his cup that twinkled specks of moonlight at him. "Yeah, that tracks."
"I don't know, Kyōraku. I'm empty. I try to think but it's like… smoke."
Kyōraku chuckled but the sound was bereft of any amusement, only a mourning somberness. His face turned to the side to look at Itachi but he found Itachi already staring at him, so he just smiled.
"You are the type of person who chases understanding before anything else, Itachi. It's not a bad thing – A great trait even – but it also means that you don't escalate. You wait and react." He downed the contents of his cup and set it down. "For most people in your shoes, it'd be a bad thing but it seems to work for you. The only thing I can say to that, not really an advice, is to just let it happen."
Itachi slowly turned away from Kyōraku as he muttered softly. "I feel like we're talking about two different things."
"Nah." Kyōraku shook his head with a toothy grin even as the wobble in his voice intensified. "We're talking about the exact same thing."
Itachi opened his mouth to say something but decided against it and refilled their cups instead. "I don't think I'm drunk enough for this."
"Hahaha, oh drunk you is so much fun." Kyōraku dreamily chimed in as he took his cup and clinked it against Itachi's.
"Better enjoy yourself while he's here then." Was Itachi's admitting retort. "If tomorrow's me is any smart then you won't be seeing drunk me for a long time."
"Eh, I'll take whatever I can get."
Two friends, past the midnight hour, under a fractured moonlit sky, drank themselves to stupor. Regrets were things saved for daylight—especially after a night of bad decisions—so they both actively ensured that the regret they would feel come morning was entirely worth it.
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