I’ve Got a Feelin’… | Accepting
The first time Yasuo went to a tavern as a man rather than a boy was a day that felt oddly ceremonial. He wasn’t the only one in his group going to have a proper drink for probably the first time (what kid didn’t nip a sip just to be naughty when they saw the chance?), so the general air around the table odd and formal. Those older than him and above his rank - his brother included - sat at one side of the low table while he kept with the others.
It was like a right of passage, sort of. The juniors on their first night drinking had to last as long as possible. The last one standing - or sitting upright, at least - would win the right to sleep in the next day as much as they wanted. The others would all have to get up an hour earlier than usual, hangovers or not, and go about their usual chores and training.
Never one to back down from a challenge, and especially one that would socially place him higher than his peers, Yasuo sat eagerly in wait of his first cup. Little could have prepared him from the initial burn, though. The elder swordsmen and women held in their laughter as best they could at the silly faces their juniors made and the determination on their faces, but that didn’t last long.
As most bar-setting ceremonies went, eventually there was loud laughing and cheering and clapping and chanting. Fists banged down on the table with every shot and cups clattered. The waitstaff didn’t dare tell them to calm it down. This was a ‘sacred’ event.
By the end the only two left were Yasuo and a young woman named Chouko. She was tall and broad and not built at all like most women he knew, so it wasn’t surprising she lasted so long. But no one was as stubborn as Yasuo. He always had something to prove. Always a chip on his shoulder. And a knack for meeting or exceeding whatever was asked of him if he felt it was worth doing.
Unfortunately he can’t remember who won that night. He was made to wake up an hour early, which had made him think he’d lost, but out there was Chouko also doing early morning chores while looking terribly green in the face.
... it was only later he found out that there never were any winners. The whole hazing was meant to be a lesson in regulating one’s drinking, and the younger students who accepted were always too hungover the next morning to argue.
If you ask him today though he’ll say he won. Who can prove otherwise? He can certainly drink most people under the table now.