A Demon and a Ghost walk into a bar...

[Kuzuru]

Perfection.

Another task, another chance for perfection.

Even a mundane task such s bartending had enough intricacies to keep Renji occupied. His entire life had been one of mastery, and this was no different. As he cleaned Rou fed him knowledge, every scrap and every nuance of his newfound job was meticulously combed through. The vast wealth of information that the prisoners within the Sword of Lost Souls was overwhelming to say the least. Thousands of mixed drinks and exotic liquors filled his memory. Hidden within these streams of data was more than just simple cocktail recipes.

Experiences, living breathing memories from souls now long departed. Thousands of experiences, mixed with the pure visceral knowledge. The particular bitter taste of a teenager’s first beer, Renji could remember it as if he was there. A lover’s favorite wine and the way the light sent a sheen of gold through her auburn hair. Another’s memory, but it felt so truly real to the swordsman. Thousands of memories, more visceral than dreams, sparked against the walls of his skull. Like single frames of movies he had never seen, these were all nothing more than the experiences of the dead.

“Stop!” Renji half-shouted, piercing through the cacophonous veil.

What? Something wrong Renji?

Taking a deep breath the swordsman composed himself and spoke inwardly to Rou.

I don’t need all of this - trivial garbage you’re feeding me.

What do you mean?

The memories dammit, the memories that you’re trying to dump into my head. I just need to know how to serve drinks, not all of this other bullshit.

The memories come with the knowledge Renji-boy, they’re intertwined.

I never had to swallow the memories of the dead when Kuzuru taught me combat.

Yes you did, but they were all memories of wars and bloodshed. You never noticed simply because of how deep the demon’s control was. Think carefully Renji, how much can you remember of your past?

My memory is fine.

Is it? Think back, what can you remember? Nothing but combat and bloodshed, how much of it is simply the memories of others stitched in to give you a faux sense of experience? I bet you don’t even remember your daughter’s name..

Daughter?

Oh my, did I let that slip?

I had a daughter?

No, at least not anymore.

Rou, what happened to my daughter?

She died, it was all very tragic. It would be best if you didn’t pry.

How did she die Rou? What was her name?

Listen, you really don’t want to push this issue.

Rou you fuck, tell me how she died!

No. And I’m going to be leaving now, you have a bar to run, and you should now have enough knowledge to run it.

Rou!

Rou! Answer me!

Renji fumed within the confines of his own mind. His entire reality was precariously balanced upon the fact that his memories were immutable. That they were in fact set in stone and perfect. Rou had shattered that comforting falsehood, even now the swordsman scanned his history for discrepancies. He lived through eons and now everything was nothing more than a blur of blood and death. There was nothing more than bloodshed and slaughter. The mere thought of a daughter sent him reeling, he had no memories of a daughter. Perhaps the voice in his head was fucking with him? It certainly wasn’t out of character for Rou, but it was still an unsettling thought.

Rou was right, he had a bar to run. The sun had began to set and the night crowd would soon be approaching. Worrying about his corrupted memories was wasted effort at this point, nothing more than another distraction. All that mattered now was the present, and presently there was no alcohol in the bar. Nothing that a liberal application of omnilium could not fix. The rainbow substance flared to life as Renji manipulated it carefully. Various bottles of intoxicating liquid materialized along the counters behind the bar. Everything was ready for tonight, the grand opening of the pub.

“Pffft, you look silly,” the ghostly voice of Wanda giggled, “a bartending samurai, how ridiculous.”

“Well then, sounds like I’ll have to change into something snappier.”

Renji smirked and channeled the remainder of his omnilium into a fresh outfit. A jet black suit-vest paired with dress pants. Underneath the vest peeked a long-sleeved blood-red dress shirt. Tying it all together a ink-black tie bisected the whole ensemble. It wasn’t exactly his usual style, but it was sharp enough to work.