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kirayaykimura · 2 years

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For Obiyuki Madness 2022 - Fake Relationship

Meetings were not Obi’s favorite. He’d much prefer getting an assignment and then, you know, doing it, but for some reason the sorts of people who hired him tended to want to go on and on about their nefarious plans. Some of them seemed to revel in what they were doing, but a good chunk of people, Obi suspected, used their monologue time to justify their actions. I’m not a bad person. Really. I just need to know if my wife is faithful. Or, they stole from me first, so, really, having you rob them makes us even, right? The claim that sending Obi in to break up young love for the good of the kingdom was pretty unique, he’d give Haruka that. People’s delusions weren’t usually so grandiose as to involve a whole country.

“Sure, sure,” Obi said. He stretched his arms above his head languidly and glanced around the small, sparse office. It was just Obi, Haruka, and a desk with an unnatural amount of paperwork on it. Either Haruka was overworked or terrible at his job. Obi hopped up from his seat and began pacing the frankly claustrophobically short length of the office, ready to hop out the window the second it looked like he could get away with it.

“I’m serious,” Haruka said. “This is a matter of utmost national security and I am-“ he sighed, “-entrusting you to see to it.”

“Yeah, I got all that. Though I must say, she doesn’t strike me as the take-down-the-palace type of seductress you painted her to be when you hired me.”

She hadn’t been wearing anything low-cut or revealing, hadn’t done anything with that already eye-catching hair that would make it even more alluring. Instead of screaming out in fear and playing the damsel in distress at his arrow trick, she’d just torn it out of the wall and gone about her day. Either she was playing a game he’d never encountered before or Haruka was dead wrong about her. He couldn’t decide which of those he hoped for.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re trying all that hard,” Haruka said, accusation clear in his voice.

“She’s really not that easy to scare off.”

“Maybe I should hire someone else to take care of it.”

Obi snorted. “Good luck.”

Eyes skeptical, Harkua asked, “You’re not starting to fall for her, are you? Because it’s been something of an epidemic around here. People can’t seem to get enough of the girl.” He muttered, “That’s what makes her so dangerous.”

Definitely delusional. Probably sexist. Maybe a little reluctant attraction to the girl thrown in to the mix? Obi so wished his assignments could just be robbing or killing people instead of spending half (sometimes most) of his time smoothing out ruffled feathers.

“Not a problem,” Obi said. “I am in no danger of falling for her.”

That promise was apparently not enough to sate Haruka, who looked anything but convinced. A simple promise that Obi didn’t think he was capable of falling in love with anyone at all probably wasn’t going to cut it, either, so he said, “I’m already seeing someone.” Because why not? He hadn’t lied for no reason in a while. He could do with a little extra spice on this job.

Haruka raised a dubious eyebrow.

“Yep. She, uh-“ He heard someone walking by just outside the door and marveled at his own good luck. It honestly didn’t matter who was in the hall, he just needed a warm body to stand still and look pretty for a minute. Sure, it would help if they followed his lead, but a part of him hoped they didn’t. It would only add to the challenge.

“That must be her now,” Obi said, cracking the door ajar just wide enough to reach a hand out. “I asked her to stop by. A little lover’s tryst after our meeting. You know how it is.”

After a fumbling moment of feeling around, his fingers finally snagged on cloth instead of empty air. The cap of a sleeve if he wasn’t mistaken. Silently thankful he hadn’t accidentally grabbed something untoward, he gently tugged on the probably-sleeve to lead them inside Haruka’s office and said, “Perfect timing, dear. I was just talking about-” Obi trailed off when he caught his first glimpse of wide, green eyes and bright red hair, “-you.” He gave a weak laugh to punctuate his sentence. Well, that was what he got for wishing for a challenge.

A very stunned and awkward silence fell over the room. Obi fought the urge to laugh at what a terrible situation he’d willingly just placed himself in. Haruka was clearly blanking on how to explain the situation Obi had just placed them in. Shirayuki - the girl - was just confused.

Shirayuki was the first to break the silence when she blinked up at Obi and said, “Hello. Can I help you?”

She had the sweetheart act nailed, he’d give her that. Then, curiously, she turned to greet Haruka and he watched as her expression shifted from politely confused to something slightly closer to the steel he’d seen when he’d shot that warning message at her earlier.

“Lord Haruka,” she greeted, like it was taking all she had just to stay civil.

“Miss Shirayuki,” Haruka said much in the same way.

Such delightfully awkward tension. Well, he’d caused it; he should probably take care of it soon before Haruka passed out or Shirayuki simply left the room. Which would be bad because the longer she stood there, the more Obi solidified a very wild plan.

“Darling,” Obi said, stepping in close to her. She leaned back slightly but held her ground, and he took that as a go-ahead and said, “I was just telling Haruka how I was courting you, but he didn’t seem to believe me.” As he threw a casual arm around her shoulders, he pulled her in close to his side and whispered low in her ear, “Just go with it.”

She tensed at the feeling, but not in the surprised, ready to shiver pleasantly at the feel of his whisper type of way. He immediately lifted his hand off her shoulder, mentally preparing for her tell on him. Oh well. The plan was a long shot anyway.

The moment his palm left her shoulder, though, she gave him a curious look that made him pause. She gave Haruka a look that he couldn’t quite read and made him curious, then said, “I should hope he’s courting me.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before Obi was awash in pure delight. This girl was fun.

“So there you go,” Obi said, turning his attention back to Haruka. He kept his hand hovering above her arm, not quite touching, though. She really did seem uncomfortable at the physical closeness. “I don’t really know why I had to prove it, though.” To Shirayuki, as if he were sharing a secret, he said, “Must be my boyish good looks. He just can’t believe I’ve settled down so young in life.”

She blinked at him before she said simply, “Sure.”

“See?” he asked Haruka, unable to keep from pushing just a bit more. “She can’t get enough of me.”

“Right,” Haruka said dubiously. One eyebrow raised, he said, “I sincerely hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course I do. I had to confess my love quickly, lest she be swept away by another man.”

Someone like the second prince. Haruka met his eyes in understanding. Sort of. Obi barely knew what Obi was planning, but the basic idea was clear: he was going to get in the way of this girl and the second prince, whatever their relationship was at the moment. If they weren’t officially courting, as he suspected by the ease with which she agreed to his ruse, it would be much easier for Obi to spread that rumor. The rumor would either make the princeling back off, or, if he was competitive, might make him pursue her harder. The thing was, Obi was pretty competitive too. He’d fake-court this girl so hard she wouldn’t know what to do with all the adoration. She’d be so distracted that she wouldn’t have time to bring about the fall of civilization as they knew it, or whatever Haruka was convinced would happen if she stuck around. It was all a little too dramatic in Obi’s opinion, but voicing that thought would really only be the pot calling the kettle black. The amount of times he flipped out of windows to make a quick exit for no real reason other than the fact that he could made his opinion on what was over the top a little hypocritical.

Not wanting to let the three of them stay in one room for too long in case someone let something slip to give the whole game away, Obi gently herded Shirayuki towards the door.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s not take up more of the man’s time. I’ll walk you out.”

Once safely out in the corridor, door firmly shut behind them, Obi fought the urge to laugh hysterically because what the hell, he’d just pulled that off. And the very person who made it all possible just inexplicably nodded at him, then turned and walked off, continuing the way she’d been going like people blindly reaching out of doors to drag her into ridiculous plots was a common occurrence for her.

Man, this girl really threw him for a loop. He’d expected her to at least ask him what that was all about, but he found himself tripping after her, asking, “Not that I’m not grateful, but why did you decide to go along with that back there?”

She spared him a brief glance as they rounded a corner and said, “Lord Haruka looked like he didn’t believe you. You looked like you could use some help.”

“Ah, so you did it to pull one over on Haruka.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” she said without denying it.

He was liking her more and more with every passing second. Why was Haruka so insistent on her staying away from the second prince again? Hell, marry her off to the first-born. With her knack for lying, rolling with the punches, and taking no shit, she’d be a natural at foreign relations.

“Would you be so kind as to keep up appearances?” Obi asked as they rounded yet another corner. They were most certainly on their way to the gardens. He’d have to wrap this up quickly. “You know, for my sake?”

She frowned.

Obi immediately held up his hands in surrender. “Just telling people we’re courting. We don’t even have to see each other.” Well, he’d keep eyes on her where she couldn’t see, and they’d never be seen together. That was weird, though, so he didn’t say it out loud.

She slowed, then came to a full stop to turn and give him her full attention. He mirrored her and tried not to fidget. (He failed.)

“Why is this so important to you?”

Obviously unable to tel her the real reason, he said, “It’ll make my job easier if people thing we’re involved.”

She eyed him for a moment before she asked, “Is someone trying to marry you off?”

Again, very much not what he’d been expecting her to ask.

“What?” he asked.

“If someone is pressuring you into something you don’t want to do, you can tell me about it. I’ve been through something similar.”

“You,” he said slowly, “have?”

She nodded.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I cut off all my hair and moved here.” She paused. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, I think my hair is a little too short for that at the moment.”

“Fake courting it is, then.” She shrugged. “Okay.”

He forced himself not to ask, “What, just like that?” because this was a gift and he didn’t want to ruin it by making her think about it. Everything was bound to fall apart the second she did, and he hoped he’d get at least a day or two to spread the rumor before she came to her senses.

When he remained silent, she said, “Okay. Bye,” spun on her heels, and walked out into the sunshine bathing the castle grounds just beyond the corridor.

God help him. It wouldn’t be a chore to pretend to be interested in her, to seduce her away from the second prince of Clarines. Oh he liked that thought quite a bit. He knew he was already insufferably cocky and it would not help if he pulled this one off.

He snagged a passing guard and whispered, “Hey, did you hear? That redheaded girl is being courted by some rogue. Didn’t catch his name, though.”

The guards, bless them, were all such horrible gossips. He immediately took the bait, stopped in his tracks, and said, “I thought she was involved with Prince Zen.”

“Not what I heard,” Obi practically sang.

He walked off before the guard could ask any more questions and grinned to himself. Let the games begin.

#obiyukimadness22 #i want to stress that this changes nothing about canon except that now sometimes shirayuki pretends to be dating obi when it's convenient #the castle guards are deeply confused and for years thereafter continue to talk about the rogue who nearly stole lady shirayuki away #(obi thinks this is very funny)#obiyuki #snow white with the red hair #my fic

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snowwhite-andtheknight · 2 years

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Obiyuki Trope Madness Semi-Finals: Match 2 Round-Up

WINNER: I Will Find You

I Will Find You - 9 Points

Fanfiction

Flowers Watered with Blood Grow with Stained Petals by @ccprovolomies Unexpected Girl by @kirayaykimura The Hunt Begins by @puffdragongirl Back to You by @realtacuardach An open gate by @ruleofexception All That Remains, Chapter 10 by @sabraeal

Fanarts/edits/playlists

Found at Last by @batgirlsay I will find you by @eveluboi Tracing Tracks by @the-pompous-potato

Bathtub Bonding - 5 Points

Fanfiction

Networking? by @claudeng80 XVII - La Lune by @paintercat

Fanarts/edits/playlists

Bathtub Bonding by @kitsunefire7 A Platonic Soak (Don’t Check) by @onedivinemisfit Rest Comes With Bubbles by @the-pompous-potato

#obiyukimadness22 #obiyuki #shiraobi #Obi x Shirayuki #Akagami no Shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #round up #fanfiction #Fanart #playlist

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realtacuardach · 2 years

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Favor Found

Entry for @snowwhite-andtheknight 's Obiyuki Trope Madness Finals: I Will Find You

This continues a previous Trope Madness Entry, found here.

~~~

Squinting in the light of the guttering candle of her workbench, Shirayuki put down her pestle and poured the freshly-ground herbs into a jar. After labeling it with a steady hand, she wound cloth around the jar and placed it in her bag. She picked it up, hearing the muted clink of the jars and the bottles muffled by swathes of bandages, and nodded with grim satisfaction. Placing it back down, she rolled several blankets and packed them into the top of the bag. Shirayuki leaned back in her chair, letting out a small breath and listening to the familiar creak. Bringing her hands to her face, fingers catching over the dried tear tracks on her cheeks, she pressed the coolness of her palms against her dry, hot, irritated eyes. No longer busied with work, her hands trembled uncontrollably.

The door to her office opened quietly, and the shaft of torch light fell across the floor, stopping just shy of where Ryuu curled up on the floor. Since walking her back up to the office – she couldn’t bear the solitude of her room – he’d been by her side, standing closer to her than he had in years, elbows brushing occasionally as they worked. He could no longer sleep tucked into a ball beneath his desk, but he coiled into a slouch by the window – the windowsill still remained empty.

Shirayuki shuddered out a breath and clenched her hands into fists to stop them from shaking, Looking towards the door, she saw Sashizu sticking his head into the room, his expression respectful, concerned, and calm with deepening shadows beneath his reddened eyes. “My lady,” he whispered, “it’s nearly dawn.”

Shirayuki nodded in response and packed up her bag, sliding the strap over her shoulder before bending to scoop up the satchel filled with clothes and a bedroll. She pulled out a square of paper, folded it, and tucked it underneath Ryuu’s cupped palm. Gazing foundly down at him, she stepped quietly out the open door and waited for Sashizu to close it.

“Let’s go,” she whispered, walking briskly if a little shakily down the hallway.

“Lady Shirayuki!” Sashizu quickly matched her strides. “I mean that it’s nearly dawn, and you haven’t slept since - since we got back.”

Shirayuki felt a yawn brimming and clamped her lips shut to suppress it. When the feeling had passed, she kept her voice as steady as possible. “It’s best to leave before dawn, right? There’s more daylight to travel by, and it’s only dark in familiar territory.”

“Yes?”

“So, it’s the best time to start now.”

Sashizu stepped smoothly in front of her, and Shirayuki nearly ran into him. “My lady,” he said, “you need to rest.”

Her grip tightened painfully on the strap of her bag and she looked down, blinking furiously. “I can’t,” she muttered lowly, “I can’t rest now. Every time I close my eyes, I imagine him alone, hurting, cold, or –” she swallowed hard. “It won’t do any good.”

“I understand,” the knight smiled sadly. “But you are exhausted, and Sir Obi would never forgive me–”

“I would never forgive myself if I didn’t try,” Shirayuki insisted. “You don’t have to come, Sir Sashizu, I know you’ve only just come home.”

Sashizu’s mouth creased in what would have been a smirk had his eyes not been somber. “I’ll get the horses ready.”

~~~

Wind blew, cold, whistling, and stinging across the top of the cliff and through the craggy steep valley below. It sang a high, mournful tune as it tore at the cloaks and tunics of the bandits throughout the valley, but the bandits didn’t flinch or wince. They were dead.

Bodies littered the ground, some slumped near the small river that had hewn out the valley but now had nearly frozen over in the wake of the bleak chill. Others slumped or leaned against the rough cliffside as though they’d sought refuge from the wind or purchase from the stones to pull themselves up and away to freedom.

A final man, broad and scarred, lay somewhere between the cliffside and the river, his face twisted into a grimace and his neck into an unnatural angle. The daggers at his belt jangled discordantly in the howling wind, echoing and empty. He lay, almost on his side, but with his upper body twisted in the opposite direction, as though he was turning away from the sound of the daggers, and arms flung out to the side. The snow on the ground had settled around him, with a deep crater beneath his abdomen and chest. Almost imperceptible indentations led away from the crater and the man towards the cliff face, ending where the rocks jutted out enough to break the wind.

At the end of the indentations stooped a figure holding a flint between his feet and striking it repeatedly with one hand. The figure hissed in satisfaction as sparks flew and caught alight the small scraps of wood he’d gathered. Wincing with pain, he curled around the infant flames, shielding it from the wind and blowing them into life.

Grabbing from the piles of pilfered bandit arrows beside him, Obi snapped three with relish and tossed them into the fire. He felt the reassuring burn and sting of the nerves in his fingers and toes, and leaned back, breathing the chill air deeply through his nose. Even as he guardedly breathed in, he felt his ribs expand and ache, and coughed despite himself. The wound on his right side opened again, and Obi cursed in frustration at the warmth running down his side. Grimacing, he drew the shredded remains of his cape close to the wound and wrapped it tightly.

He didn’t have much positive to say about the bandit leader – in fact, he had almost nothing – but at least the leader’s weight crushing him into the snow had both provided body heat and kept his wounds sealed, for the most part.

That, and his bulk taking the brunt of the hits against the cliff as they fell which probably kept Obi alive. Still, given that the bandit leader’s attack was the sole reason that he lay stranded, freezing, injured, and alone, he was less than inclined to be grateful.

Satisfied that the fire would continue to burn without his staying by it, Obi stood up and started walking towards the bandits lying crumpled on the ground around him. He took a few steps before the stabbing pain in his left leg sent him to his knees. Breathing deeply but slowly to stave off the waves of white-hot pain, Obi pressed the splint cobbled together from the two pieces of driftwood washed up by the river, and tied the bowstrings more tightly across them. Then he stood up and kept walking.

Obi found several pieces of dried meat in the pack of the third bandit he came upon, and he took the pilfered food back to the fire to eat it and come up with a plan. Chewing thoughtfully, ignoring the ache in his jaw, he took stock of his injuries: broken left leg, sprained right shoulder, several broken ribs, dagger wounds to the chest, stomach, and arms, and bruises mottling his skin from the impacts as he fell.

He’d been holding up well in the fight, even learning the more foolhardy of the bandits to the cliff’s edge. They’d got only a few serious blows on him, but it had only fueled his adrenaline. However, one of the newer recruits had been knocked to his knees at the precipice of the cliff, and the bandit leader leaped forward, ready for the kill. Obi flung himself bodily between the two of them and got a few good stabs in before they both plummeted over the edge.

The wind rushing past his ears, nearly drowning out the cries of his men. Everything blurred in a mass of color, sound, and pain; Obi smirked with satisfaction as the other man yelped as his back hit the cliffside, and then groaned with pain as he felt bones snap. The bandit leader hit the ground first, taking the brunt of the impact, but the momentum of their bodies sent the bandit sprawling on top of him, cutting off most of his air and his vision. He could hear the men calling after him before all was suffocated in silence.

The fight had taken place at twilight, now the sun shone brightly overhead as Obi stumbled over to the nearly frozen river. Using the handle of one of the bandit’s daggers, he broke through the ice, scooping water into his palms to drink. He considered attempting to use the water to clean his wounds, or to boil it to clean cloth before using it for bandages. However, it would be hard enough to keep warm without pouring cold water over himself, and he hadn’t found a vessel that could be used to heat water.

No, his best chance of surviving would be to bind up what he had to make it out, and to climb out of the valley. Anything more could wait until he made it home.

Home. His hand reached up to where he had pressed his Miss’ favor against the worst of his chest wounds, close to his heart.

~~~

Squinting in the wake of the blazing campfire, Shirayuki tied off a knot in the bandages piled in her lap and put it into a bag. She shut her eyes, feeling a dull burn behind her eyelids, and stretched her neck back. She heard footsteps approaching, twigs and brush crunching underfoot, and looked toward the sound. The figure of a man carrying firewood, silhouetted in the glow of the moon and the red-gold of the fire made her heart leap into her throat with a nostalgic giddiness, only for it to sink down into her stomach as Sashizu’s features became defined. Shirayuki looked into the fire, hoping that the moisture in her eyes could be explained by the heat, and picked up another bandage.

Sashizu settled down by the fire across from her, leaning forward to place another branch in the fire.

“Thank you for the firewood,” Shirayuki smiled, the expression feeling thick on her face.

“You’re welcome, my lady.” The knight nodded at her before poking at the flames.

“Would you like more to eat?” she ventured, tucking the last piece of cloth into her bag, fingers twitching, bereft of something useful to do.

Sashizu’s mouth twisted at the corners with amusement. “I’m fine. Have you eaten?”

“Of course.” Her tongue still stung from gulping down the stew as soon as it had stopped boiling, she hadn’t wanted to be deterred from making preparations more than she could avoid. She had seasoned it the way that she and Obi liked it best on long trips, full of spice and flavor, but it had felt like so much water burning down her throat and congealing in the pit of her stomach. If she didn’t need all her strength and energy for the journey, she wouldn’t have bothered.

The fire swam in front of her eyes, and Shirayuki attempted to clench her jaw in place to keep from yawning. Glancing to where Sashizu sat, she saw him raise an eyebrow; she gave up and yawned.

“Please rest, my lady. I’ll keep watch.”

Shirayuki squashed down the immediate impulse to protest; his eagle eyes couldn’t miss the sag in her shoulders or the growing haziness of her gaze, they certainly hadn’t missed her nearly falling off her horse once twilight had set in and they were forced to stop. “Aren’t you tired?” she asked, drawing her coat around her shoulders. “You haven’t slept either.”

Something like a grin creased his face, although it was tempered by the somber look in his eyes. “I’m trained for it, Lady Shirayuki, I’ll be fine.”

Slumber pulled heavy on her limbs and eyes, and she struggled against it even as she sank into the bedroll by the fire. Closing her eyes felt like turning her back on Obi, but she would be no help if she couldn’t stay awake. He cheek grazed a sachet of lavender tucked into the bedroll, tied with Ryuu’s preferred knot. Tears brimmed again as she remembered Obi teaching it to him one lazy summer afternoon, and she swallowed regret that she hadn’t waited for Ryuu before leaving. They both couldn’t leave at the same time, but still –

She took in a deep breath of lavender, seeking solace and thinking of her boys.

~~~

Gritting his teeth, Obi took the long piece of cloth he’d stripped from one of the bandit’s capes and wrapped it around the gash in his right arm, tying it tightly. The blood welled bright and red in protest, but he ignored it to tear another long strip to bind the other forearm, where another wound had reopened.

Wonder how mad Miss will be about these scars, he thought, and smiled despite himself. The blood and dirt smeared and caked over his face made it difficult to smile, but he managed it. His Miss had that effect on him.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear her scolding, smell the blend of her herbs and flowers, feel the warmth of her arms encircling his waist, her hands brushing his face.

Then he opened his eyes, and saw a bleak wasteland of ice. Glaring down at the leader, Obi yanked the thick coat off the body with more force than necessary, nearly reopened his wounds again. Slowly, he made his way to each of the bandits, stealing what he could and stuffing the daggers and provisions into the coat pockets. His leg nearly buckled beneath him as he neared the freezing creek, and he considered cracking through the surface to scrub the crusting blood off of his arms and face.

Resolutely, he turned and made his way, nearly hobbling, back to the cliffside. Cracking through the water would lose precious daylight, and his fingers had already numbed somewhat in the cold. Climbing would be hard enough with one broken leg and one nearly incapacitated arm without having to account for frostbitten fingers.

Obi pressed one hand against the cliff and clenched his jaw, steeling himself, before using his less-injured arm to hack a foothold into the rocks. Letting his broken leg dangle a little, Obi stopped up with the other and pushed up until he grabbed onto two rocks sticking outwards. Every muscle screamed in protest and black flashed in front of his vision, but Obi blinked through it and swung his splinted leg upward.

I’m getting old, he mentally grumbled as he forced himself upwards. The early morning sun crept overhead as he climbed until it shone down on him in full, nearly blinding him. Wind tore at the stolen coat stuffed with pilfered supplies, freezing water and the last of the dried meat sloshing unpleasantly in his gut, and his splint continually smacked against the cliff, sending stabs of pain reverberating through his body.

Still, he pulled onward.

By the time he reached the top of the cliff, he nearly let go of the rocks in shock that he had actually made it. Fortunately, instincts prevailed and he managed to flop over and up to safety before indulging in a shout of victory.

Which then became a shout of pain as his ribs expanded, pulling some of the cuts on his chest and stomach open. His heart pounded, either from exhilaration or adrenaline, and he pressed his hand over his chest. The familiar fabric of the favor made him smile, and his fingers caught on the frayed edges.

He needed to go home.

With an effort, Obi rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up into a kneeling position. Looking ahead, he could see a forest and slowly half-crawled, half-limped over to the protection of the trees. One of the trees on the furthest edge of the forest had a long, gnarled branch jutting out from the trunk, nearly touching the ground. Obi pulled the dagger of the leader out of the coat where he’d stashed it after hacking out the foothold, and smirked at the utter destruction he’d wrought on the blade. Still, it could serve one more purpose before being cast to the side.

Obi leaned against the trunk to steady himself, and began sawing at the branch, hissing under his breath, as his bandages scraped against the tree bark. It took longer than he’d hoped, but eventually the branch came free and he held it triumphantly as he flung the ruined dagger to the side. Catharsis flooded him as he watched it land, only to be slightly tampered by the flare of muscle pain.

Wedging his elbow into the crook of the branch, Obi pushed up off the tree and stood up, his splinted leg dragging a little. His mind buzzed and floated as he tried to remember how to get back to the outpost, and he closed his eyes to focus. The horses had needed the wider path when they were patrolling, requiring the company to ride around the forest, but the quickest way was to go straight through.

Well, he didn’t have a horse to worry about now, so he walked into the forest as afternoon faded into twilight and snow began to fall.

~~~

Shirayuki nearly fell off of her horse as she hurried to dismount at the top of the cliff, and she felt a pang of remorse at the shout given by Sashizu. “My lady, please, be careful!”

“Sorry,” she replied, kneeling near the edge and peeking over the side. Her heart froze as she looked over the many fallen bodies, still, silent, and unfamiliar. The ground nearly gleamed with craggy ice and snow, and the river, which must have been impressive when not dormant, had frozen completely over. Her hand stole into her pocket, clutching the scrap of material that had always been so warm to the touch before. Her breath caught as it also felt stuff and still, flaking bits of mortality clinging to her fingers as she pulled her hand from her pocket.

Shirayuki jumped at the sudden crack and crunch beside her, and looked to where Sashizu had begun pounding a metal stake into the frozen earth. He walked closer to the edge of the cliff and drove another stake down. Wiping the seat from his brow, he turned to face her. “Could you bring me the rope, my lady?”

Grabbing the rope from the saddle bag over her shoulder. “Getting ready to go down! I’m not as good of a climber as the knights are, so I figured I should tie the rope around-”

“You’re not going down there.”

She spun to face him. “What?”

Sashizu finished winding the rope around the two stakes and looked at her. “You are not going down there. I am.”

Suppressing the involuntary flare of irritation, Shirayuki crossed her arms. “Forgive me, but that doesn’t make sense. I’m the one with medical training.”

“Yes, but my lady-”

“If he’s hurt down there, he needs treatment right away.”

“He would, yes, but-”

“And I’m lighter than you, it’ll be easier for a strong man like you to pull me up than the other way around.” She smiled to lighten the mood. He didn’t return it.

“It’s not safe down there, my lady.”

Shirayuki swept her gaze over the bodies, several already glazed over with frost and half-covered by snow. “They don’t look like they’re very dangerous.”

Sashizu’s jaw clenched. “Stay here, Lady Shirayuki.”

Worry and anxiety boiled over into frustration, and she whirled on him, eyes burning. “I can’t stay here and do nothing. I realize that you think I can’t–”

“My lady-”

She stomped towards the edge resolutely, tying the knot tighter around her waist, “--be of use, but watch me–”

“Lady–”

One foot cleared the precipice. “--and I’ll bring him–”

“Shirayuki!”

She turned in surprise to the familiar address that Sashizu had never used before, and looked with shock at him kneeling in the snow. He took advantage of her stillness to grab her hands and pull her from the edge.

“I can’t,” he looked down, clearing his throat before looking at her, and she choked a little at the palpable grief and sorrow in his eyes, “I can’t fail him again. I’ve already failed him once.”

“Sir Sashizu…”

“I couldn’t get to him fast enough. I couldn’t see him after he fell. I had to get our wounded back to get treatment, so I couldn’t look for him as long as I should.”

Shirayuki squeezed his hand. “Obi would understand.” He would, too; he was always the first to put himself last, curse it all.

“All I could do was bring back his favor.” He swallowed. “I’ve already failed him, but if I ever let anything happen to you–” He took a steadying breath, “I’d be failing him all over again.”

Catching sight of his hands clutching hers, he hastily let go. “Forgive me, my lady, I–”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she assured him, “not for me, and not for Obi. You did what you could, and we’re here now.” She dug in her bag for a long sheet with several long strips attached to it. “You’ll need this when you find him. Be sure to secure his head to protect his neck.”

Sashizu took the bundle and tucked it securely into his belt. Winding the rope in his hands, he stepped back towards the edge and smiled at her, the expression still tinged with grief and guilt, although possibly with hope. “I’m in your hands, my lady,” he nodded and then began the descent.

~~~

Obi slowly trekked through the forest all through the night; moonlight poked its way in slivers of light between the leaves, and he struggled to keep his eyes open enough to let the light guide him. His headache thrummed behind his eyes as he forced himself onwards, digging his hands into his makeshift crutch and the surrounding trees, both to keep upright and to force feeling into his fingers. The coat snagged on undergrowth, but he needed the protection too much to discard it.

His footsteps became heavier until he was sliding more than picking up his feet, and he would feel his blood pulsing agitatedly through his veins against the muscles, but he continued going. He couldn’t stop; if he did, he had little faith he could start again.

By the time that the trees thinned out, the late morning sun nearly blinded him against the glare of the snow, and he brought up an arm to shield his eyes. The weight shift proved too much for the tree branch to handle and it fractured, sending him sprawling in a spray of splinters. Squinting upwards, Obi could almost see the silver and blue banners marking the kingdom’s outpost, but that could be a hallucination.

Frankly, he would have preferred a hallucination with enchanting green eyes and a beautiful smile that smelled of herbs and flowers.

Adrenaline seeped out of him as he sagged in the snow. Too tired to think, too tired to open his eyes, almost too tired to breathe, he attempted to curl up under the coat, the stabbing pain dulled and numbed as he moved. His fingers closed over the material over his heart, seeking the warmth of his Miss. Before the darkness enveloped him, he could almost imagine footsteps running towards him, and then all was nothingness.

~~~

“My lady!” The tiny medic squawked excitedly as she walked through the door. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

Shirayuki forced her face into a facsimile of a smile that Obi could have called out right away, but fortunately was not caught by the medic. “Is everything all right?”

Nothing was going to be right, ever again.

Sashizu had checked everything in the valley, and there had been no Obi, not even a sign that he’d been there since the snow had started falling. Apparently, the river had still been rushing when they’d been ambushed, perhaps Obi had– Shirayuki swiped her hand across her eyes.

“We have a new patient,” the medic continued, mind clearly still on the task at hand, “he’s been pretty injured and I think there’s a risk of frostbite. I don’t know how long he was out there before the sentries found him. I think he needs more than one set of hands.”

“Of course,” Shirayuki said mechanically, moving to follow the medic into the infirmary. The patient had already been placed in a large tub, and the medic scurried over to pour a pitcher of warm water lightly over the patient’s limbs. Shirayuki grabbed a bundle of washcloths and towels, and her heart panged at the sight of the man as she approached, the sympathy for his plight prodding a little at the numbness that smothered her like thick cotton. The water already had begun clouding over dark red from the blood from the man’s many injuries. Kneeling beside the bath, Shirayuki took a washcloth, dipped it in the pitcher, and began wiping off his arms. “Any bones broken?” she asked.

His left leg, definitely,” the medic replied, as she used a knife to cut off the knots keeping a makeshift leg splint in place. “And I think his ribs.”

She pressed firmly into the man’s rib cage, and he let out a low moan.

Shirayuki hummed in sympathy. “It’s a blessing nothing seems to be infected.”

The medic nodded. “He’ll need stitches, but at least he kept himself together long enough to get here.”

Shirayuki picked up a new washcloth. “I have thread and bandages in my bag, if you need any more. Some ready-made poultices, too.”

At least they can help you, she thought to the wounded man, blinking furiously.

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” the medic smiled, “is it with the knight you came in with?”

“Yes, he should be with the commander.” Hopefully he wouldn’t be getting into trouble for taking off without telling his superiors – although he looked numb to pretty much anything after he’d managed to hoist himself back up from the valley. She started cleaning off the man’s chest, gingerly peeling back the bandages to rinse the wounds.

“No,” the man groaned lowly, muscles tensing in his shoulders as though he was trying to reach up but couldn’t.

“You’re all right,” Shirayuki murmured, hushing him gently, “you’ll be better soon, I promise.”

The man began shifting more, and she began wiping gently at his blood-smeared face to try and soothe him with the warm water. “Don’t worry,” she spoke softly, “I’m here to help–”

Water dripped across his forehead, revealing olive skin and a very familiar scar. Shirayuki stopped breathing, and slowly, deliberately, brushed clean water over the man’s closed eyes. They opened and looked up at her, dazed, hazy, but the most beautiful gold she would ever see. Tears ran down her cheeks and she dropped the washcloth. “Obi?”

Obi blinked. “This,” he mumbled, fingers and shoulders twitching in earnest, “is a much better hallucination.”

Gingerly, afraid everything would melt away if she moved too quickly, Shirayuki leaned forward and cupped his cheek in her hand. “Obi, it’s me.”

“Miss?” His eyes struggled to focus.

Shirayuki shrieked and flung her arms around her shoulders, sending water sloshing in all directions. “You’re alive!”

Footsteps thundered outside the door, and the medic burst in, the medical bag swinging wildly from her shoulder. “What’s wrong? Do we need the knight?”

“Yes, please, please get him!” Shirayuki cried into Obi’s shoulder.

Obi shifted a little, groaning, and Shirayuki shot backwards. “Oh, Obi, I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”

He shook his head, and managed to flop one hand onto her arm where it rested on the side of the tub. “Hurts more when you’re not touching me.” Even through the blood and dirt, she could see the flush burning high on his cheekbones. Her heart and eyes brimming, she leaned forward and enfolded him in her arms

“Is that better?” She laughed through her tears.

Obi leaned his head against her shoulder. “Much.”

The door to the infirmary swung open, and Sashizu rushed in. “Captain!”

Shirayuki turned back to the shocked smile blooming on the knight’s face before returning to Obi. “Let’s get you home.”

Obi leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “I already am.”

#obiyukimadness22 #i will find you #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #obiyuki

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obiyuki-beebs · 2 years

Text

unspeakable things; an excerpt

ObiYuki Madness 2022

Words: 757

I Will Find You

@snowwhite-andtheknight

Note: Hello! This is actually an excerpt from part 2 of a fic I’m working on for the kitty prize from last year ... laughs nervously. @eveluboi pls consider this a smol teaser.

Hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: a bit gory? not super gory? but ya know. referenced injury, blood, general angst, abuse.

---

Obi whipped down the stairs, worn heels of his boots slipping underneath him on the smooth stone of the tower’s steps. He didn’t have time to fall. He didn’t have time to make a plan. All he knew was that he had to get back to her.

But what was he supposed to do?

Shirayuki.

He had left her in the room at the top of the stairs, begging quietly through gritted teeth to whatever gods there might be that the blood running down his front was his own instead of hers; but he knew the truth. The thick bandages he had wrapped around her middle were soaked, sickly and crimson in the dusky dark of morning. Any hope of using magic to heal her had been taken from them when their wands were destroyed.

Obi rounded the bottom of the stairs and stopped suddenly, slamming a tight fist against the wall beside him as hot, unbidden tears made tracks in the dirt on his face. He put his hand on the dagger given to him all those years ago; finest iron, tempered in the heart of a dragon; a dagger that seemed to him to be the last vestige of magic he carried with him.

Outside, a thunderous clamor of the Kings guard rang through the air, a throng at least three hundred strong. Obi wondered if Zen was with them; whether he had been ordered to be there or if he had come willingly. Obi wondered if he would be able to protect her this time, too.

“Dammit,” he whispered, mouth contorting as he fought back the urge to collapse in anticipatory grief. He pulled the dagger out of its sheath and stared hard at it, mind blank as he searched for a way. Any way.

I would do anything to protect her.

The sharp blade almost seemed to glitter despite the darkness around him.

And he thought that maybe he did have magic he carried with him; Obi pictured Shirayuki’s smiling face in his mind. He remembered the way her eyes looked when she had welcomed him home, celery-colored and brimming with tears. If his love for her wasn’t magic, he didn’t know what was.

I have to protect her.

He wiped the tears off of his face and neck, spun the blade, and braced himself.

Then he stepped out of the door to the tower and screamed as he sprinted at the army surrounding him.

—

Kain Wysteria, King of Wistal, sat still on his war horse as he contemplated the keep before him.

It would be easy enough, he thought, to just destroy it.

They would both die. While he wanted the knight dead and gone, he had plans for the red-haired girl that necessitated that she remained alive and intact. Kain glanced over at the Second Prince, frowning at the memory of his son begging him to spare the lives of the two escapees. Zen, still sporting dark bruising from his punishment for such impertinence, sat stoically on his own horse. Kain observed his blank expression.

“It will be better this way,” he said aloud, turning away from sudden look of fear on his sons face. Louder still, he called to the group around him, “Prepare to engage.”

At that moment, he heard the scream; the last and desperate cry of an animal trapped and fighting death; the scream become a roar, and in half a breath, the air erupted in fire.

—

Shirayuki lay on the cold stone slab, her vision swimming with fields of black as she fought to stay conscious.

Blood loss, she thought, and wondered if she even had the strength to check her own pulse. She could feel her heart thumping wildly in an attempt to maintain circulation in a body sorely losing the fight it was waging.

She almost missed hearing Obi’s voice as he cried out; almost missed the way it changed into an awful, guttural roar. The tower walls shook violently around her in a sudden shift of air.

“Obi…” she said, throat dry. She watched smoke drift past the broken wall of the tower. She wondered if it was real or if she might be imagining it; she wondered the same for the burgeoning silver light surrounding her like tendrils of berry roots, shooting in all directions.

“Obi… I’ll find you. I’ll find a way to get back to you. We’ll find each other again. We…”

Whispering, she sank into the unknowing blackness, Obi’s amber eyes in the light the last thing she saw.

---

....okay! happy madness!

#obiyukimadness22 #obiyuki #my writing #submission #obi x shirayuki #Akagami no Shirayukihime #wip #big sigh #i cant wait to read everyones posts / go through the content #i kind of gave up on submitting this year #and then got into bed like two hours ago and realized I had inspiration enough to do this #ta da #editing? i dont know her

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claudeng80 · 2 years

Text

Networking?

Herbalism is complicated. Obi has spent enough time trying to read over Ryuu’s shoulder to have no doubt of that. It’s admirable work- he helped Suzu set a bone once, and once he was done feeling queasy, he was pretty proud of himself. As many times as he’s chided Shirayuki for her long hours and one-track mind, their excitement is probably warranted.

But he never will truly understand academics.

“Professor Hatiora is coming here?” Shirayuki looks up from her notes, pen leaving a starburst of ink splatters in her surprise. She says the name with more reverence than she reserves for King Izana. “He wrote the seminal textbook on succulent classification. It’s one of the foundations of all my subsequent work on aloes! I can’t wait to talk to him.”

“Ehh,” says Izuru around a mouthful of salad. It’s a nice enough day out that when she took her lunch outside, nearly everyone else joined her. “Don’t get your hopes up. The last time I was here Shidan set me to escort him and he didn’t say ten words to me the whole visit. Just pretended I wasn’t there.”

“He talked to me,” contributes Kazaha. “Implied I should consider a change of career because I was useless, but he did acknowledge my existence. Answered a few questions, too, before he decided I was a waste of space.”

“It’s not just me,” Izuru adds, defensive. “I was at a colloquium in Wistal three or four years ago where Garrack asked him about propagating mature cacti, and he wouldn’t even answer. He just turned away and asked Shidan about some variant cactus with rectangular cladodes. I thought Shidan was going to die on the spot, if Garrack didn’t beat him to homicide by braining Hatiora with his own textbook. I think he just doesn’t like women.”

Ryuu inhales his soup, and the coughing fit distracts everyone enough that Obi’s the only one who watches the way Shirayuki’s jaw sets. He knows better than to trust that look; she isn’t giving up that easily.

***

He hasn’t forgotten it, by the night before Professor Hatiora’s talk. He spends far too much of the day worrying she’s going to jump headfirst into some scheme without him, enough that it’s a relief when the knock on his door is followed by the sound of her voice. “Obi, can you cut hair? I’ve got the scissors, but the last time I did it everything was all ragged.” He opens the door. “I want it to look intentional this time,” she concludes.

“Whatever will Prince Raj think?” All the answer that rates is a flat look and the offer of the scissors. “I thought you’d been looking forward to growing it out?”

She fingers the tip of the lock that falls in front of her ear, and there’s a bit of hesitation there. “I was, sort of. The braid is so convenient. But long hair is so out of style for men around here, and I want him to take me seriously.”

Obi has a creeping suspicion he’s not going to like this one bit, when it starts to make sense. “I don’t follow?”

She looks at him like he’s one of her slower students- someone who can be taught, given enough patience and repetition. “If he doesn’t talk to women, then I’ll just pretend not to be one.”

There it is. “But you-” His hand waves vaguely in midair; gesturing to her curves surely isn’t polite and yet he can’t stop himself.

She frowns downward, and he braces himself for her to blame the buttons on her dress or something equally inane, but instead she flushes, a fast-spreading wave that clears just as quickly. “Oh no, Yuzuri and I have that all figured out already. She just wasn’t willing to take the chance on my hair, and you have such steady hands.”

They don’t feel that way at the moment. “You’re going to keep asking people if I don’t do it, aren’t you?” She nods, and he weighs the conditions of his employment against the worst-case scenarios he’s been imagining all week. The scales tip in her favor, as always. “Hand me the scissors.”

***

The end result is convincing enough, when everyone else stops gawking and giggling and remembers to call her “Shiro.” The hair, even cut short into a bob far neater than any of the other pharmacists’, is a clear giveaway to anyone who knows her, but to a stranger Shiro is just a tidy, petite scholar. He’s no odder than anyone else in Lilias, exactly the type of academic who gets mistaken for his students on a regular basis.

“Not half bad, you think?” Yuzuri whispers to Obi during Professor Hatiora’s talk. They both stand in the back, the seats of the auditorium filled with rapt scientists. Ryuu’s in the front row taking notes in his own shorthand. Shiro has a notebook ready for the Q&A period.

“I don’t see the big deal about him,” he answers, equally hushed. “They keep telling me this is all about cacti, but I don’t understand why we care.”

Now it’s Yuzuri’s turn to look at him like he’s stupid. This is not a good week for his reputation. “Not him, I mean Shiro! Adorable, right?”

Obi is not about to admit how cute it all is. Wanting to wrap his hand in Shirayuki’s hair and kiss the life out of her is a permanent state of being for him; Shiro’s shorter hair and those precious curves transformed by padding into broader shoulders and a trim waist are no deterrent to the feeling. The trousers are more than just not a deterrent. Obi has been making a particular point of preceding Shiro up stairs all day.

“It’s not about what I think.” Up at the front, the professor nods at Shiro’s question and launches into a tangent about water levels. “But he seems to approve.”

After the talk, while most of the less-devoted scholars are filing out of the auditorium in clumps, Shiro lingers near the foot of the dais. Obi can hear it already, “one more question” that could turn into five. They’ll be there all afternoon.

Up on the dais, Professor Hatiora is gathering his notes. Suzu leans in with a question, he nods, and every hair on the back of Obi’s neck stands on end at Suzu’s answering smile. He’s been designated Hatiora’s escort while he’s in Lilias, and while it still doesn’t make up for all the attention Garrack pays Ryuu and Shirayuki every time she visits, he’s going to make the most of it while he can. The two of them saunter down to where Shirayuki’s waiting, but Obi beats them there.

Suzu gestures magnanimously, that mischievous smile still on his lips. “Shiro came to us from Wistal a few years ago, and has revolutionized our logistics between the checkpoints and the main pharmacy.” He’s up to something, but at least it doesn’t start with a lie.

“So many people in our profession are stuck in the past, it’s nice to hear about people improving the field. Nice to meet you, Shiro.” Hatiora blinks, his eyes magnified oddly through the thick glasses he wears. They shake hands, and Obi breathes a sigh of relief as Shirayuki’s knuckles squeeze white. Assertive, just the way they practiced. The professor smiles approvingly. “Suzu was telling me earlier about the hot springs of Lilias. We’re going to go soak and talk- would you like to join us?”

Obi understands the value of networking. Even if he hadn’t heard Zen go on about it whenever he makes Obi talk to boring people at parties, Suzu has made no bones about the value of who you know in academic circles. He’s still holding a grudge about the fact that Garrack can’t remember his name. And every time he gets onto the subject, everyone nods along. Shirayuki is friends with some of the most powerful people in the kingdom, and still she has academics she desperately wants to impress.

So Obi knows exactly what Shirayuki’s going to say even before she opens her mouth. “Sounds great! Which bath were you thinking?”

“The mixed baths at The Pomegranite. Sound good to you?” Suzu’s been looking for an excuse for those baths since they first opened, and he’s never looked more like a fox than he does right now. He’s enjoying this way too much. Obi’s teeth creak against each other as he reminds his fingers they don’t need to be on his hilts.

“I’ll meet you there!” Shirayuki’s voice breaks just a bit, but it passes for nothing more than excitement. Suzu escorts the professor out, and the cage of Obi’s teeth holds until they’ve left the room.

“I can work with this,” Shirayuki starts.

“No you can’t! In the bath-” His blood runs cold thinking of it. “He will see you, and there will be no question-”

“I’ll wear a towel.” She waves off the objection, but Obi will not be deterred.

“Nobody wears a towel in the water!” He’s getting loud, he knows it, but he doesn’t know how to make her see how bad an idea this is. He leans closer, breathing through his nose to keep from yelling. “Please, miss, don’t do this-”

But she just smiles, so close, and it’s not a smile that says he’s won. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll stay under the water and not too close. He won’t be able to see that well, without his glasses on.” Her lips twist, and the desire to shake her almost overtakes all the others. “And you’ll be right there, right? Nothing’s going to happen.”

***

The argument is still not over as Obi waits in the Pomegranite’s soaking room. The mixed baths, as excited as Suzu was when they first opened, are not that crowded at the best of times, and the middle of the afternoon is something of a low period. And at least the washing areas are separate, so Obi just has to keep watch so nobody sees Shirayuki sneak out of the women’s washroom. The warm water laps at his legs as he watches her embarrassingly conspicuous progress.

Condensation drips from the ceiling with an echoing plink, loud enough that Shirayuki jumps and almost loses her towel. She gathers it up with a squeak, then catches herself and pulls it off. Obi grits his teeth and stares at the ceiling, tile patterns interesting but not quite enough to distract him from the endless rustle of a towel being folded.

Obi slips into the water so he doesn’t have to listen to her splashing as well, but waves in the pool tell him he’s not alone. “How do I look?”

“Wet. I’m not turning around.” She’s naked no more than a couple of feet away. Zen will have his head if he ever hears about this. “It’s not too late-”

Suzu passes through the door first. “- and the south greenhouses have a poison garden, Ryuu’s special project. You met him this morning, right?”

“He grunted at me, if that counts as meeting him.” There’s a splash behind Obi just as Hatiora enters the room. His glasses are on. “He seems young for a Royal Pharmacist.”

“He is, but trust me he’s earned it.” Suzu drops his towel and tests the water with his toe. “I see Obi’s here, but no S-Shiro. That’s unusual. Hi, Obi! Shiro decided not to come?”

A hand rests against his shoulder blade, pressing as the professor slips into the water still wearing his glasses. She must be hiding behind him. “Something came up.”

“Did it?” Suzu can’t keep a secret, so at least he hasn’t noticed Shirayuki either. “Well, at least you’re here. Professor Hatiora, this is Obi, Shiro’s-”

“Apprentice,” Obi interrupts, declining to point out that he’d been right there when Shiro was introduced earlier. Suzu tilts his head, squinting like Obi’s a fungus he wasn’t expecting, but it’s a better excuse than anything resembling the truth.

“Ooh, good thinking, now you can ask my questions for me,” Shirayuki whispers just behind him. She has got to be kidding. “Ask him about how his herbarium preserved the cactus samples so that he could get such good slide sections years later.”

She’s not kidding.

“You’re a little- old for an apprentice, aren’t you?” Hatiora looks Obi up and down, and yes this is probably the most ridiculous alias he’s attempted to date, but if the king can pass as a pharmacist with exactly no experience, Obi can do it. He also knows perfectly well his age is not what’s being observed here. There are moments now when even he forgets the scar blazoned across his chest, but none of those are when it’s exposed for everyone to see.

“It’s a second career.” Suzu perks up, but Obi will leave it to their imagination exactly what the first career was. “My master wanted me to ask you something about cactus slides? How you preserved them for so long?”

“The slides were new, but the samples themselves were packed in ice. They dry out over time, but the structures we were interested in-” He pauses a moment, adjusting his glasses. “Nobody preserves slides, you take your observations, record your data, and then discard them. How long have you been an apprentice, and you haven’t been trained in sample preparation? How odd.”

“Oh, I can’t be trusted with knives, every time I end up covered in bandages.” He lifts a hand, years of nicks in his fingers standing out white against heat-flushed skin. Suzu coughs into the water, and there’s a vibration in the hand on his back as well.

“How odd.” The professor peers at his hand like it’s some kind of inferior sample. “I wasn’t expecting so many exceptions to the rules here in Lilias. A boy master, an apprentice that can’t handle sample preservation. . . I’d expect it somewhere like Wistal, that harridan Garrack never met a rule she couldn’t break. I swear, she wrote one good paper years and now everyone treats her like the queen of all pharmacy knowledge, but she couldn’t organize her way out of a sack.”

Suzu’s mouth drops open. Water splashes. The press of Shirayuki’s hand against Obi’s back releases, and he knows exactly what she’s going to do.

He’s not about to let her. He surges back, pressing her against the edge of the pool. “Achoo,” he says to cover up her startled squeak and his own erratic behavior. Suzu’s incredulous stare pivots from Hatiora to Obi.

“Let me go,” she whispers, squirming. She’s slippery but he’s determined; no amount of skin sliding against his own, no legs wrapping around his for leverage, no breasts pressing against his back will budge him. He can’t think about the details, can’t picture her- No. That’s impossible. All he can do is try to forget it.

As soon as he’s saved her from herself. “No,” he hisses back, covering it with another sneeze.

“I think I’ve had enough,” Professor Hatiora announces, eying Obi cautiously. Unqualified pharmacy apprentices are apparently that unpredictable and maybe even dangerous.

He heaves himself out of the water, and in the moment where he’s distracted Suzu shoots Obi a very confused and concerned look. Betrayed, even. “Maybe you’ve been in too long, Obi? You’re looking very flushed.”

That’s no surprise, and it’s got nothing to do with the hot water. It’s a shame he’s making Suzu look bad, but in his defense, Hatiora is a jerk. He can make it up with snacks later, Suzu is eminently bribeable. His mistress, however-

Her hand grabs his hip and it takes every bit of self-control he has to stay still. Her foot brushes his calf and her breath on his spine sends goosebumps racing down his arms. She hisses, “Obi!”

“Not yet,” he murmurs and waves.

Professor Hatiora tells Suzu, “At least you’ve got a good core team, with Shidan and you and that awkward fellow Shiro. Needs to speak up more, see if you can get him some decent help and mentoring.”

Suzu, not ignorant of the insult, looks back just once before they’re gone. Obi freezes, mid-wave, barely breathing until at last they’re gone.

Then he pushes away from the wall, away from the softness of forbidden skin pressing into his. His lungs collapse in on themselves as he whirls toward her, then away just as quickly. He wants to know how angry she is, while at the same time he’s afraid to see. He settles at last with his hands over his eyes.

“You should have let me hit him.” It’s almost a relief, then, to hear the censure in her voice, even when it’s not directed as it should be. Skin, hers against his own, an inexcusable closeness- “I can’t believe I looked up to him. What an absolute ass,” she concludes, and water splashes into the pool.

Obi peeks through his fingers, just as she sets a knee on the rim of the pool and lifts herself out of the water. There’s a dark mole just above her hip- it rivets his attention as her hip flexes and tenses, as water cascades down her back and off the tips of her short hair. She pauses, perched on the rim of the bath like a nymph on a statue, as pale and bright as painted marble, and he’s not brave enough to look, not strong enough to stop looking.

“I’m going to need to find some new references,” she says. “I’ll go back to older sources and draw new conclusions. I’ll work with Garrack- how can he possibly discount her work? Her and Izuru and so many others-”

“And you,” Obi says through his fingers.

She turns at that, and smiles, and stands-

And her foot slips out from under her.

Obi hardly knows what he’s doing, as he launches himself out of the water, as his hands grasp her thigh, her side, as he scoops her against him. Her skin is chilled against his but so smooth he gasps at the feel.

Odd, them turning out the lights like that, in the middle of the day. And the echoes-

***

“Let me get this straight.” Izuru’s close to laughing, Obi can hear it in her voice. He’s already been checked over, he’s just under observation now, but he can’t help but twitch his towel again in hope of another inch of coverage. He would be happy to be a little less observed. “How did this happen again?”

Izuru dabs at the scratches on Shirayuki’s back. There are more of them than he’d expected- guilt twinges a bit even through the throbbing in his head. “Those are from when Obi had me pinned against the pool wall. He’s very strong, you know.”

Perhaps, if he’s very very still, they’ll forget he’s there. No, that’s not a possibility, and neither is falling through the floor and living in a hole for the next month. He can’t even jump out the window, with his head spinning like this. There’s nothing to do but not meet Izuru’s eyes as they settle on him. “Is he,” she murmurs, the corner of her mouth twitching. She puts down the ointment and sits by Shirayuki’s side, turning over her swollen wrist to prod it carefully. “And then you fell?”

“It wouldn’t have happened if I weren’t all wet, but Obi grabbed me and-” She looks over at Obi now. Her towel is the same size as his, but making a better effort at decency now that Izuru’s done with her back. She knows he’s going to hate this part, even more than he already hates everything. “His eyes just rolled back and we went down. I’m guessing it was just too hot in there for him.”

Izuru’s eyes go wide, just for a moment, only to be replaced with a glee so profound that Obi knows refuting any of it isn’t worth the breath it would take. Everyone in the pharmacy will have heard the story before dinnertime. “You know,” she says, then has to take a moment to master herself again. “There are better places than the public baths for that kind of thing. I’ll go get the splint for you.”

Obi pointedly ignores the sound of her laughter out in the hall. Tomorrow the rumor will have made the circuit, and he'll have to counter it. It's not the first time and it won't be the last, but honestly they all should know better. Anyone who would think Shirayuki would do something like this for him, not for plants, doesn't know her very well at all. Obi never really will understand pharmacists.

***

Shirayuki buries her head in the pillow, her wailing much more muffled with the barrier. Yuzuri pats her on the shoulder. "You wouldn't believe what I did, and he didn't even react!"

Yuzuri watched Obi watch Shirayuki all morning. "I promise, it's not. Give it one more try, I'm sure that'll do it."

One eye glares at Yuzuri through a curtain of red hair. The short cut suits her. "I stripped naked and he couldn't stand to look at me. What more is there?"

"Go tell him you're interested." Yuzuri has a pretty good guess of what went down in the bath, because every time Obi had seen Shirayuki in her costume, he'd looked like he wanted to eat her. The man has impressive self control, but even he has limits. "And this time wear the trousers."

#obiyukimadness22 #bathtub bonding #fanfic

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sabraeal · 2 years

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All That Remains, Chapter 10: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure [Part 7]

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki Trope Madness 2022, Semifinal #2: I Will Find You

There is romance in the escape, is there not? Fear as well-- so much, enough to choke even you, though you are not the one running. To fly is to risk being caught, to chance a worse fate, to hold your heart in your hands and watch it crushed beneath the heady weight of your hopes.

A risk it may be, but for the greatest reward: freedom. You watch our girl run; you cheer for her to go faster, farther, to break free of the magic of this garden. The grass is greener on the other side, the water sweeter, the universe far more kind.

But that is but another illusion, a story we will tell ourselves again and again and never grow tired. We must believe it: there is a light at the end of the tunnel, an end to our suffering, a better place beyond this one.

Because without it, we will never leave.

Anger nips at Shirayuki’s heels, driving her feet faster and faster, until the portraits begin to blur. Not a hundred pairs of Wisteria blue reaching back into history, but a single gaze, heavy as a hand on her neck. Her slippers stumble beneath it, tumbling her to a stop.

A portrait glares down at her; a king who sits on his throne as if it were made of swords, his face half in shadow from the weight of his brow. Not one of the shining sun kings Clarines is known for, nor even a forefather of Izana’s frigid reputation. No, his is a brutal face, craggy as a mountainside, like the ones painted of the Northern lords of old.

Kain Wisteria, the plaque reads, Regnant. And the dates after it--

You read it, huh? It’s horrifying that he can smile over it, even now. That her Zen, a boy who shines as bright as the sun, can find joy in his own suffering. Because suffer he did; it’s all right here, in Garak’s too-familiar chick scratch. You should know, that’s all over and done with.

She does, she does; it sits stark in back and white, impersonal on the page. No hint of how this was done to a child, how he must have screamed and cried and called for someone, anyone to help him. Did you know about it?

Sure. He shrugs, so easy, like he didn’t court death on purpose. Like he didn’t look it in the eye and live, over and over. It’s about me, isn’t it?

That’s not what she wants to ask, what words are tearing at her throat to fly free. Why? she wants to say, she wants to scream. Why would you do this to yourself?

People do strange thing for fear, Garak tells her, later. Unprompted, a simple aside as she partitions out doses, taking an envelop in her own long fingers and holding it open for Shirayuki to fill. And they do even more unforgivable things for love--

Shirayuki’s hand reaches out, reaches up, stretching toward an unfamiliar brow, towards a king no courtier will speak of. Careful, Eisetsu had murmured once, his hand gentle on her back as she stepped into the carriage. Even the sun has to cast shade.

“Is that who you are?” she murmurs to the man she will never know. “Zen’s shadow?”

“Shirayuki!”

Her feet scuttle back, shuffling beneath her, prepared to break into a run. But there’s no need, not when the man who rounds the corner is nearly as tall as the knight’s armor in it. “Mitsuhide.”

“Please,” he pants, breath heaving as he approaches. “Wait a-- oh. You aren’t running.”

You’re not Zen. It’s on the tip of her tongue, but she cannot decide whether it is an observation or an accusation. “Is there a reason I should be?”

“N-no!” He flushes, not just from exertion. “I’m not going to bring you back. Not if you don’t want to.”

His tone makes it clear he’s hopeful she will. That he believes there is a reason good enough to explain away what’s been done. “I don’t.”

“I know that you--” he flounders beneath her steady gaze-- “you must be...hurt? That Zen didn’t tell you his reasons for stopping the search. But you have to see that--”

Her hand flies up between them, his excuses stuttering to a stop. “It’s not about his reasons.”

Mitsuhide blinks, a hound confused at an empty bowl. “It’s not?”

“No.” Her breath broadens the set of her shoulders; small she might be, but right now a lance could glance her shoulder, like they did at tourneys of old, and she wouldn’t sway an inch. “No reason is good enough for him to have abandoned Obi. I’m disappointed. That this is what he decided...and that all of you let him, like Obi...like he never mattered to you.”

He stumbles a whole step back, hand clutched to his chest as if she took her hand to him rather than her words. There’s a storm brewing on his brow as he rights himself, as foreign as a tornado tearing through hilltops. An expression that hardly belongs on a face so friendly as his.

“Of course Obi matters.” His hands fist at his side, cracking as he forces his fingers straight. “But I respect him as a fellow knight, and my...my friend. If he said--”

“Did he say?” Desperation turns her voice into a stranger. “Did he tell you he meant to go? That you couldn’t come after him, because he chose to...to...”

Mitsuhide is made of mercy; it’s no surprise he gives it to her, even now. “No,” he murmurs, so soft. “He didn’t. But I know how it feels to watch the person that you...”

His lips press together; even with the secret unleashed, running rampant through all their minds, he won’t give Obi up further. It’s frustrating to see so much loyalty, and yet have it be so misplaced.

“But would you have left her?” Shirayuki takes a step toward him, her fingers knotted down to the bone. “If Kiki had married Hisame, would you have left?”

His reply is faster than thought. “Never.”

“Never?”

“I have my duty.” His shoulders tense, torn by even the ghosts of what could have been. “But if she had married him, I could never have-- oh.”

Terrible realization dawns in his dark eyes, old shadows ushered out at the same time new ones roll in. “I never could have left, because I would have wanted to be there for her. Even if I couldn’t have her. That’s why I...”

Mitsuhide’s hands are broad, callused; the kind that seem strong even in repose. One of them rises now, wrapping around the horror his own mouth has unleashed. Right here, in the steady lamplight of Wistal’s halls, a man so big has never seemed so small.

“You see it now, don’t you?” She’s steely and soft all at once, a bludgeon wrapped in silk. “Why I can’t believe he wanted to go?”

“No.” It’s muffled by his hand, but the way slight way he stakes his head. “No...”

Her hand comes, resting gently on his arm, as warm and safe as it has ever been.

“I won’t stay mad forever, Mitsuhide, I know that. But I...” She licks her lips, letting the motion ground her. “But I don’t think I can stay here either. Not when he needs me.”

A story makes an escape trim and lean: an adventure with a clear end, a decision with a clear reason, a question with an easy answer. It is obvious, inevitable from the first doubt. It is unrelenting, a race from the the first step to the last. There is no room for guessing or for second thoughts, only the ceaseless beat of words upon the page, the rising crescendo of strings, tense and finite.

But flight is never a whim of the moment, a convenient suitcase at the door. No, the decision in itself is a journey, one full of stumbles, of pitfalls. Of dollars beneath a mattress, of a pack hidden in the depths of the closet. It is nights filled with tossing and turning, of wondering what comes next-- or more terrible, what comes after.

Jump, we say, knowing that there are pages more to go, that we can but skim to better times. Run, for there are miles to go before your tale is finished. Hope, because for you, happiness is only a finger’s width away.

That is what stories steal from these leave-takings: the unknowing.

Her clothes are cloying in the confines of her chambers.

The lace at her neck chafes, chewing angry marks onto her throat. Love bites, Obi laugh once, peeling the offending fabric from her skin, only you could get them the un-fun way, Miss.

Her fingers sneak between flesh and fabric, holding it away, giving herself room to breathe, to think. She can see her skirts pacing in the mirror, a susurration of silken whispers as she walks. Mitsuhide had let her go, but she imagines him just outside her door, wondering what secrets they would whisper to him--

She stills. In the silvered glass, a stranger looks out at her. Who is she, this woman in taffeta and lace? This woman who wears pearls as clasps and sees it as simple, as plain? Whose skin is only spotted by the imperceptible faults of silver.

It shouldn’t be her. She is not satin shoes and mother-of-pearl buttons, nor carnelian combs and perfect politesse. No, she is made of loam, a tall stalk waving in the wind; a tincture titrated in a lab, the soft burble of a beaker at boil, a seed wrapped in stone and left to shine.

You lack the practical knowledge of what you are asking. Her hand fists in the fabric, wrinkles tickling her palm. The title of princess is not just decoration.

And yet she had nearly become one, trying to be the woman expected of her. All it had taken was simple shift from implicit to explicit. Not a promise itself, but a promise of a promise.

Sacrifice should be expected of a lady, Mihoko creaked at her once, opinion as final as a slammed door. And a princess must be prepared to give all.

Haki had rolled her eyes, had given a subtle sigh when Her Ladyship’s back had been turned, but-- but--

It’s Mihoko who spoke rightly in the end. She had given up everything for this chance-- the pharmacy, the gardens, her life’s work; everything that had given her joy or purpose. And in the end, she had lost herself, lost even--

Her fingers clench again, but this time they tug, they tear, until eyes pop from their hooks, until taffeta and lace fall to the floor and all that is left is Shirayuki. Trembling, perhaps, but whole.

She will not lose one more thing. Not this time.

No flight begins from a stand still. Even the smallest sparrow creates their own lift from nothing, filling themselves with terrible potential before they take to the skies, free and safe. Quick to the eye, but to the body itself-- a cost, like any other.

Obi never taught her the trick of traveling between balconies.

Trying to steal my job already, Miss? he laughed, his smile crinkling his eyes, the way it did when she’d truly surprised him. It’ll only make it harder if I have to worry about you scurrying about the castle where folks can’t see.

But what if I need to see you? It was an innocent question, a worry she’d chewed over in the hours since Tanbarun. A concern that had only grown more pressing when Eisetsu had sent him off after the ball, all on his own, right into the arms of Bergatt.

It’s only now that she understands the rictus of his grin, the humor frozen in the corners of his mouth. But, Miss, he hummed, so warm it set her cheeks to burning, it’s my job to come to you.

Her boot slips on the rail, it’s tread worn thin through a dozen gardens, a hundred roads. It would take a single step to make it to Obi’s balcony, to avoid the potential princess being seen sneaking into the abandoned chambers of her half-tamed knight. It would take a more careless one for more than her hopes to be dashed on the ground below.

What if you can’t. She only ever saw his worse wounds after they healed, that scar from Sereg puffy and pink but speaking of careful-- and long term-- attention. What if--

Don’t worry, he said so easily, as if she could ever stop. I’ll always be at your side. What did I say? Wherever you go, I’ll follow.

“Liar.” The word sobs out on a breath, all her tears already shed. Still, she rubs at her eyes, knuckles coming away wet. “Liar.”

It’s not Obi’s skill she uses to traverse the gulf between, but her own; the ones she honed as a child climbing down the decorative trellis beneath her window, or shimmying up the forest’s trees. She stares down at the toes of her boots as they settle beneath her, straight like a knife buried in a block, and thinks of the blind faith she once had in herself, the trust she had that her small body would sling her between the wooden posts that crossed the reservoir. And when she takes her step--

She lands, right on Obi’s balcony.

So it is with little girls. They must prepare themselves, must take their small hops, their small flaps, must fill themselves with the terrible to fuel their flight. A kite needs a running start to ride the winds, and little girls--

Ah, well, there are two ways for them. Some only need a push.

Obi never taught her how to pick a lock either; at least, not with the ease he had. Obi could stroll up to a keyhole and convince it to open with the barest twist of his wrist, or cajole a set of french doors to swing wide with only a barest insinuation, but for Shirayuki-- even if she got to her knees, even if she used every pin in her hair, not a single tumbler would move.

A good thing, then, that the handle warms beneath her palm, turning with the gentlest twist.

Shirayuki stares, bone stark against polished brass. It’s open. Obi had left the door to his own personal chambers unlocked. Her stomach gives a sick lurch, a free fall towards her toes, just like it had at the tower. Only now, as she crosses the threshold, there is no one left to jump in after her.

Stale air chokes her; there’s no scent to it, nothing left to molder, but still it smells...undisturbed. Stifling almost; an attic in the dog days of summer, though with none of the heat. No, it’s cool in here, not even the dust the slightest bit scattered and it’s-- it’s--

It’s exactly as Obi left it. Bed made with the crispness of the castle’s staff, untouched. After all, it’s not as if he’d slept in it that night. Not when she’d told him--

Her eyes close, hand blindly gripping for his chair. There’s no point in thinking of that now. That his pens are still in their haphazard scatter across his desk, that his papers are all left so neatly, held down by a book he’d surely never used for anything but its weight-- no guards had been in here. For all of Zen’s assurances, he hadn’t even stretched himself this much.

Anger seethes in her veins, just beneath the thin cover of her skin, but she takes a breath, letting it cool. That’s why she’s here, after all. If this had all been done, if Zen had done as he promised-- well, perhaps more than this would be different. But instead she is on the precipice-- no, at the edge of a tower, wondering if she should jump.

After all, Zen’s knife was not the only message Obi left. Ryuu had his seed as well. Broken promises both, his failures in physical form. But for her--

Nothing. No apology, no acknowledgement. Only silence. Perhaps, after all these years, she deserved it.

But she doubts Obi would agree.

Shirayuki crouches, the parquet hard beneath her knees. The carpet by his bedside lays flat, not a single tassel out of place, but she knows better. Obi thought he was so clever, but she’d been an only child in an old house, a girl filled to the brim with stories of secret passages and hidey-holes. If he thinks a carpet kept her from knowing about his cache from the kitchen, or the bag he kept packed with them-- well, she saw no reason to tell him.

The board prises loose beneath the barest application of a finger to it’s edge, or it least it did to one that knew the trick of it. She sets it aside, heart in her throat, but--

But there’s nothing there. He took everything.

And other little girls...they must fall.

Tears sting her eyes as her finger brush the empty boards below, only dust rising to meet them. No, he didn’t take everything.

Her breath catches in her throat, the same way her fingers catch in a fist. He kept it.

Blood trickles down a breast; it soaks into cloth with each ragged gasp. That is where stories leave us between their lines: alone and bleeding, the sword beside us. When next it find us, all this will be far behind us, merely backstory for what happens after.

But that is not the important part is it? No, that would be the terrible breaths between. The moment in which one stares at the edge coated in their own life’s blood and wonder, shall I turn my back on it, or shall I put it back in?

A hand reaches out, trembling. What would it be like to choose neither? To instead take this weakness and wield it.

Fingers grip, pale against the hilt. Suffer not a weapon left in the enemy’s grasp.

The spathe flutters from her ankle as the little girl runs, hard stones pounding beneath the soles of her feet. Her gaze is fixed at the gate, and no matter how the path warps, or how the garden grows, she keeps running, one step after another. Endless, like swimming a river upstream, fighting a current she cannot see or feel until--

Until reality snaps back to sensibility, the gate but an arm’s reach away. What had from a distance looked solid, wrought of iron and impossible to break, is now a sad thing, rusted and hung crooked on its hinges. Fastened shut it may be, but when she raised a hand to its lock, it flakes away, staining her palms.

And older woman might wonder at that, might dwell on what it says that one is marred by their circumstance even in leaving them, but--

But our girl is too young for such things. When the gate swings open, she flees, the wide world opening around her.

It is so easy for children to take such chances.

No, it is easy for us to tell them to. Stick a toe in that pond, child, the water is only cold when you first get in. You’ll get used to it in time. It will be warm once it is familiar.

Eat that, it’s good for you. You have never seen it before, never tasted such a thing on your tongue, but trust will make it sweet. Watch me, child, let me go before you. Delicious. A flavor you will anticipate for days to come, all you need is to take your first bite.

Run, we say, there is something better waiting for you on the other side. All a little girl need to do is reach out, to grab it. There will be someone on the other side, waiting to catch her.

It would be practical to wait. No, it would be prudent to play princess for another day longer, maybe even two or three. Enough for suspicions to ease, for everyone to believe Shirayuki would keep on as she had. To convince themselves that when she had said, I won’t give up, it had been yet another promise she meant to break, an oath she had no intention to see through.

But no second thoughts, no cunning plans slow her hands. For she knows that with each moment she lingers, each hour she pretends to be content with her life within these shining walls is another that brings it closer to being truth. Her anger spurs her now, but should she let it cool, should she let the words of those she well-loves sing in her ears--

Well, she already turned her back on him once. To test herself again, to rely on her better judgement when it failed her so spectacularly-- unnecessary.

The last of her clothes packed-- the ones that would survival travel, the ones she came with only months ago, the only ones to her name-- she reaches blindly for the top drawer. There’s no reason for it; she knows that there’s nothing there, not for outside the palace, but still--

Her hands brush over a wooden box. Precious stones cut against her fingers, and even without opening it, she pictures the treasure inside. Mother of pearl, carved jade, gold and silver pieces wrought as thin as wire; a small fortune.

The edges dig into the flesh of her knuckles. Perhaps she is not quite done with this place after all.

The little girl has read all the tales: it is foolish to look back. But still, still-- she cannot shake the eyes on her back, nor the niggling idea that she has forgotten something most important, most precious.

She looks back once.

The consort is at dinner.

The moon is high in the sky, but Haki will be at her seat for hours more, conversing with those nobles that jockey to jostle royal elbows. At Tanbarun’s court, Raj’s father had barely stayed a few minutes past desert-- but there were few who were as diligent as Clarine’s king and queen. They wouldn’t leave until every dish was cleared and every concern aired, and when they returned--

Ah, well, Shirayuki had learned well enough that Haki did not always make it all the way back to her rooms. And with no consort to protect, there is only one drowsing guard on duty, one who is far more concerned about staying upright than the girl in the white coat scurrying past. He waves her on with a snort, only saying, “Leave it on the table.”

Her smile freezes on her lips. “I’ll only take a moment.”

A promise that is easy to keep; there’s no paper-wrapped parcel on the table now, but it is easy-- too easy-- to place her own there. The mother of pearl shines in the moonlight.

“Thank you,” she tells the empty room, an easier audience than for whom the message is meant, “but I won’t be needing these anymore.”

Her touch lingers, tracing the shimmering petals. They look nearly liquid in the moonlight, small glistening ponds carved out of the earth around them. “I think maybe...I never did.”

There is nothing behind her, nothing but a garden overgrown and gate rusting a pieces. A broken illusion, made all the sadder for the seeming.

In front of her is a hill, not steep but treacherous at night, the sort filled with little hidey holes to turn a girl’s ankle. At least, if she wasn’t careful. This little girl might not have shown much of that lately, but now, now-- it’s different.

And yet, as she picks her way down the hillside, she cannot shake that feeling. That sense of something missing, that sense of something watching.

She looks back twice.

An arm bars her path when she takes the turn to the royal offices, but it’s a familiar smile that greets her. Kai’s eyes dance as he tells her, “He’s not there, my lady.”

“Ah...” A part of her is relieved; to explain this to Zen in person would take more anger than her body could hold, and she cannot waver, not again. But yet, an equal one is disappointed, still hoping that perhaps this was all just a misunderstanding, that only a few minutes’ honest conversation could set this all to right--

But the dagger had been sheathed so casually at his hip, as if it had never left. If she had not seen it, if she had allowed her eyes to glossy over it familiar shape--

Ah, it is not so simple as that. Nothing between them ever will be again. But hope is, as ever, the hardest thing to smother, even a flame as small as this. “He isn’t?”

Kai shakes his head, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “Sir Mitsuhide had him out of there not an hour past. Said that maybe a few hours sleep might set him all to rights.”

It’s an effort to suppress the urge to go to him, to hold his hands in hers and work through all this together. She clenches them inside, hiding them in the pockets of her skirt. “Is that so?”

“He musta gotten into it with Lady Kiki,” he tells her, as if all this were some joke, just one of their usual disagreements, destined to be solved by morning. “When I came on duty she flew out of there like the floor was made of coals, muttering all sorts of things, if you can believe it.”

She can’t, not with the way Kiki stood so silent, so still, just hours ago. How when she needed her most-- when Obi needed her most, she--

Shirayuki teeth clack into a smile. “You don’t say?”

Kai looks down at her, guileless, and asks, “Are you going to go see if you can catch him, my lady, or--?”

“No, no, I just...” Her fingers clench, knuckles knocking into cool metal. They unfurl, wrapping around rounded edge, each tick and tock matching the steady beat of her own heart. They had been that way too, once; in sync. “I just wanted to leave something here for him. For tomorrow.”

There’s not a hint of suspicion as he steps aside, waving her through. “Go right on ahead then, my lady. I’m sure it’ll make his day.”

She thumbs the crown, feeling it twist ever so slightly between her touch. “I certainly hope it will make him think of me.”

The door swings open easily beneath her hand, leading to the dark office beyond. By the time it shuts, she is trembling.

“Please, understand,” she whispers as she pulls out the drawer, arrowhead still in its glass case. The watch settles in beside it as if it were always made to be there, two betrayals framed side by side. “That’s all I want. For you all to understand.”

Scree scrabbles beneath her feet, and the little girl realizes: they are bare. Her precious red shoes are inside still, tucked beneath her bed. It’s too late to turn back, too late to have second thoughts or second chances, but--

She looks back a third time.

In Lilias, the pharmacy never closes. Just like the guard, pharmacists were expect to take the odd night shift, fielding the mortal and mundane in equal measure. But here in Wistal, its doors shut soon after the evening bell, herbalists roused from their own beds should there be a need in the early hours.

And yet still, light limns Ryuu’s door, the lamp burning bright from inside. A mind that never sleeps, Shidan had said once, a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth as Obi lifted Lilias’ smallest scholar, but the body must.

She half expects to find him beneath his desk, curled up as he had years ago, only the flutter of a curtain to betray him. But he’s too big for that now; taller than even Obi when he forgets to slouch. And so when she walks in, those pale eyes find her, blue as the Wisteria colors. A thought he’d hate, if he could hear her think it.

“Shirayuki,” he says, almost as if he can’t believe she’s there. “Why...?”

There’s nothing in her pockets for him; the hairpin he picked for is her lost now, taken from it’s place. But that-- that hardly matters. It’s not a promise she’s here to break, after all. Not when she already crushed so many in her carelessness.

“I’m leaving,” she tells him, and suddenly, it’s real. “I’m leaving.”

His mouth falls open, gaze scrabbling over the cut of her dress-- yes, for once, her dress; one with pockets and raised hems and fabric meant to be dirtied. “But...why...?”

“Obi left.” The words sting her lips as they leave them. “But I’m going after him. I wanted to-- to--”

Say goodbye.

“I’ll come with you.” There’s no hesitation, his eyes flickering over jars and books and samples. “Just give me an hour, no two, and I can--”

“No.” She shakes her head, tearing from the effort. “You have to stay here.”

“But--”

“You’re the Head Pharmacist now.” By the sudden slump of his shoulders, he hardly needs the reminder. “The people here need you.”

“So does Obi,” he insists, though it’s weaker, less sure. “So do you.”

“We do.” It’s easy to close the space between them, to wrap his too-large hands with her smaller ones, casting shadows over his papers. “I do. But that’s why you have to stay. There always has to be someone to come home to, doesn’t there?”

His eyes widen, and oh, he’s never looked more like a child than this moment. “You’ll come back?”

“When I find him,” she promises, though she can’t imagine it. There’s too many ifs between then and now, too many maybes, but this time, this time-- she means to keep her word. “When I find him, I’ll come back.”

We are not children, you and I. We know that we do not live stories; that life is more than crescendo to climax, from falling action to denouement. That when a door opens, there is no easy answer on the other side, no better life ready-made for a girl to slip into, like her favorite pair of red shoes.

No, there is nothing there that we do not make for ourselves, that is not the blood of our body and the sweat off our back and the tears from our own sorrow. What lays on the other side is the chance but to make it, our hands bleeding from the hard work of carving our own destiny.

But it is better than having stayed.

Obi never taught her to run away.

Not that Shirayuki ever needed help with that anyway. She knows full well the art of leaving everything behind, of abandoning all her worldly possessions with hardly more than a glance over her shoulder and regret knotted deep in her heart. To do it again is hard, harder than she ever imagined it could be, but-- at least this time, she doesn’t have a prince hot on her heels.

Yet. Hard to say how long that’ll last, though.

This time too, she has resources. Last time she wore out the soles of her boots walking, but this time, this time-- a horse nickers in its stall.

“C’mon, girl,” she whispers, brushing a quick hand over a silver flank. “Just stand still.”

Shirayuki isn’t fluid in horse, but she’s pretty sure it rolls its eyes. It certainly shies away from her, favoring her with a dubious snort.

She hefts up the saddle, staggering under its weight. “I just have to get this one you! So if you don’t move--”

“All these years with Obi,” an amused voice drawls from behind her. “And he’s never taught you how to steal a horse.”

Shirayuki spins on her heel, and across the straw, she meets Kiki’s amused gaze.

When the little girl slows to catch her breath, it’s the snowdrop that catches her eye, lingering out of season. An impossibility with the way the air cools around her, but still, still-- magic makes all things possible. And she is not too far from the sorceress and her guardian.

She approaches, wary. They are unobtrusive; in the garden they had been lost beneath the brighter, louder blooms, but they grew even still, undaunted by the crowd around them. Snowdrops are known to be hardy, these ones already firmly entrenched in the soil, though they can’t have been growing long. Stalwart, even with their fragile beauty.

The little girl has always liked them. In her village, to find one before the snow melt was a sign of luck, a blessing born from cold misfortune. Every year, it would be her that found the first bloom, hidden beneath her window or tucked against the stoop. The luckiest girl in the whole world, her neighbors would laugh.

At least they did, until she lost her boy.

“Ah...” Shirayuki shuffles back, putting more space between them. At least, until the wall rises to meet her back, and ah yes, she’s only trapped instead. “Obi doesn’t really like horses.”

Kiki sighs, detaching from the shadows with a roll of her eyes. She’s dressed in black, the way she never is, hands gloved and sword strapped to her side.

Her strong hands lift, taking the saddle from her, dropping it back to the rail. “Kiki--”

Slowly, purposefully, Kiki plucks up a brush, skimming it over the mare’s back.

“You have to clean them first,” she says, stern. “And then you can worry about the tack.”

She’s not sure why the first thing she thinks to say is, “But I did.”

Kiki snorts. “You didn’t. I was watching you.”

There’s not much to say to that. Or rather there’s too much to say, too much between them to start, unless she means to be here all night.

“I can do it,” she says finally, holding out her hand for the brush.

“No.” Kiki doesn’t even bother to look as she moves, motions swift, efficient, and yet strangely gentle. “I know what I’m doing.”

Do you mean to bring me back? the little girl asks, barely more than a whisper. I will not let you.

I do not, the snowdrop sighs, I will not.

The little girl crouches, heart in her throat. Then do you know where my boy is? My precious one?

“Um...” Shirayuki casts about for something to say, for something to do besides watch Kiki calmly, methodically tack a horse. “What are you doing?”

She hesitates, arching a brow. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You...” Her mouth is dry, hope choking her harder than her anger ever did. “You can’t stop me from leaving.”

The snowdrop does not shy, does not wilt, but she does sway, the wind moving her in its grasp.

I do not, the snowdrop tells her, I am but one flower, and out of season. Even if I called to all my brothers, all my sisters, they would be sleeping beneath the earth.

Then why, the girl sobs, tears welling when they should be well spent, why have you come?

“I know.” Kiki’s face is placid, a lake the moment before the stone lands. “I don’t mean to try.”

“Oh.” She shuffles, boots scuffing against the wooden floor. “I...good.”

“There’s no point.” Kiki makes short work of the saddle, poking the mare’s belly as she says, “I’m coming with you.”

I may be only one flower, the snow drops says, confident for such a small thing. But if you put me behind your ear, then we could go together.

I do not understand. She does, she does, but oh there is nothing more terrifying than hope.

If you but put me behind your ear, the snow drop says, shyly now, then you would not have to go out in this world alone.

Shirayuki stares. “What...?”

“A princess can’t be without her knight, can she? I may not be the one you’re used to--” her smile curls ruefully in the dark--“ but I promise, I’m far more competent.”

“But...” Her mouth works, trying to form a thought. Why is the only one that comes to mind, and even she is not innocent enough to believe Kiki would answer it. “I...”

Thank you, would be the polite response, the one that would have sprung from her first, before anything else. But even now she sees Kiki as she was in Zen’s office, silent and stoic, turning away when she sought support.

“I’ve always found,” she says, voice trembling, “that Obi has his advantages.”

Kiki’s smile breaks away into a grin. “Well, there’s no accounting for taste.”

The little girl plucks the snowdrop from its roots, weaving her stem into her hair. Petals tickle the shell of her ear, and for the first time she smiles. Will this not hurt you, to be taken from your ground?

Worry not, the little flower tell her. For just as sorceresses, little girls have magic all their own.

The girl nods, careful not to jostle her flower. Her grandmother had told her the same, long long ago, and she saw no cause to doubt it now. With hands on her hips, she stands tall, even as her toes curl with cold. The summer is gone and faded for the land; the colors now come from the trees, littering their leaves on the land.

Oh, how I have wasted my time, the little girl sighs with despair. It is autumn. I have no more time to rest.

Kiki boosts her up into the saddle, silver shying beneath her weight. “You understand, don’t you?” she murmurs into the flank of this horse. “What all this might cost when it’s over?”

Shirayuki blinks down, and for the first time, she notices the thick wool of Kiki’s jacket. The night presses in, cold against her cheeks. The last time she saw Obi, even muslin had felt stifling.

“Whatever it is,” she replies, barely able to lift her voice above a whisper, “losing Obi would be worse.”

Kiki stills, her hand pressed against the mare. “That’s not what I was asking,” she says slowly, carefully, “but I suppose that’s an answer in and of itself.”

“You still mean to come with me?”

Her hand moves, placing itself with a comforting heft just above her knee. In the dark, Kiki’s eyes shine, just as hard as the sapphires on Haki’s coronet. “I owe you that much.”

She steps away, a breath shuddering out of her. “And him too.”

For that is the truth of it, is it not? We must make our own destinies, carving them from our bodies like the most bloodiest births, but when we do--

Ah, when we learn to stand up for ourselves, that is when others learn to stand beside us too.

#obiyukimadness22 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #trope: i will find you #All That Remains #snow queen au #my fic #ans #'it'll only be 4K' i said #'it'll be one of the short chapters'#and here we are 6K later #And finally. FINALLY. we are done with this part #and onto The Prince and the Princess #ONLY ABOUT FIVE CHAPTERS AFTER I THOUGHT WE WOULD BE

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what-plant-metaphor-am-i · 2 years

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For Obiyukimadness22: Fake Relationship @snowwhite-andtheknight

Set after they've met Eisetsu and learned of the suspicious perfume as well as Madame Liera, but in this case they did not receive an invite to another masked ball, so Eisetsu takes it into his own extremely capable hands.

Eisetsu's Ball, The Sequel: Soirée Away

“I have thought it through and am certain that this is the most efficient way to find those involved in this dastardly scheme.”

Eisetsu’s eyes were set, determined, his hands clasped on the table before him in a business-like manner. Shirayuki’s own eyes narrowed a fraction as she thought over what he had just described.

“You’re going to…throw a party?”

Eisetsu nodded solemnly.

“A masked ball, yes, and I will take full responsibility for the planning and executing of it, you need not worry about that,” he leaned back a little in his chair, loosening his arms with a confident air and adding in an off-hand sort of way, “It is, I suppose you could say, my forté.”

He glanced over their blank expressions.

“My, uh, area of expertise. Organising soirées, that is.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Shirayuki assured diplomatically. Obi, sat next to her, choked a little on his stifled laugh.

“You will, of course, attend. All three of you,” Eisetsu continued, gesturing to Ryuu where he was seated on Shirayuki’s other side, making him startle.

“You may each select a mask from my vast collection. Oh, and apparently Shuu has a few to offer. Let us humour him by looking over them too.”

Shuu bowed from his position by the door. “Thank you, my Lord. I daresay they will find much humour in your splendid array of options as well.”

---

“What do you make of this ‘masked ball’ idea?” Obi whispered as they followed Eisetsu and Shuu down the hall. Eisetsu was enthusiastically recounting a past ball where a rival had apparently tricked him into wearing a shade of green that was ‘passé’ but then he had pulled it off so well that he had started a whole new trend by the end of the evening. Shuu was nodding and adding an occasional “ooh,” or “aah,” as well as the odd correction to the tale where needed.

Shirayuki wore a composed expression, but Obi could tell it was performative. There was a tightness about her mouth, and her eyes were far away. Ryuu, on the other hand was very obviously fretful, his whole body seemed to be screaming discomfort, from his ghostly complexion to his clumsy footsteps. Obi didn’t see much of a problem with the ball idea himself, he was confident that he could keep the others safe, and Eisetsu was right in that it could draw out the perpetrators…

“It’s risky,” Shirayuki answered him quietly, her eyes still focusing elsewhere. Obi ducked down to her height to hear her better as she continued.

“If the perfume is being used in the room we could be exposed to it. I would have to prepare counter medications for us…” Obi regarded her silently. Her ponytail flicked at her neck as her head bowed in thought. Miss was similar to him in that she always took it upon herself to keep others safe, in her own way.

“I…” They turned to Ryuu as he stumbled over the intricately carpeted floor. He looked at them, blue eyes swimming with worry, and swallowed.

“I don’t think I like parties.” Before anything further could be said, Eisetsu came to a stop.

“…Which is why I say one should never underestimate the impact of iridescence in one’s ensemble. Now,” he turned to face them all and softly laid one hand against the dark engraved wood of the door ahead of them.

“Beyond this door is my collection of masks from over the years. You may look…” He made eye contact with each of his visitors in turn, “…and you may touch. I am trusting that you will treat them with care and respect. Each is a memory, an emotion, a place in time…” his hand drifted down to the door handle.

“An experience.” He pushed down on the handle as the group held their breath collectively in anticipation. The door remained shut. Eisetsu gave it another push; it didn’t budge. He glanced at Shuu who was standing by, watching calmly.

“Shuu, do you have the key?” he hissed. Shuu placed a hand in his waistcoat pocket and brought out a small brass key, eyebrows raised in apparent surprise.

“Oh, yes, here it is,” he smiled. Eisetsu gave him a murderous look as he retrieved it and unlocked the door, finally swinging it open grandly.

The group entered wide-eyed as they found themselves surrounded by displays brimming with masks; they were feathered, bejewelled, glittering and veiled, mostly elaborate but a few were more discreet. Some resembled animals, sporting impressive beaks or bristling whiskers, and others were fashioned like human faces, complete with pearly painted lips and swirls of striking colours defining the cheeks and eyes.

“These are fascinating,” Shirayuki said in wonder, examining a turquoise mask that had sweeping blue feathers trailing from either side, waterfall-like. She held it up with a bright smile.

“Kihal would love this one, don’t you think?”

Obi peered at it through a mask he had put on, a black one that gleamed with subtle shocks of metallic green when he moved, like a magpie’s wing.

“I daresay you could rival Popo in that, my lady.” She laughed and returned it to its place.

“As marvellous as it is, we want to be blending in at the ball, and this is certainly more of a statement piece.”

“Agreed,” Obi nodded, “something like this would be far more appropriate.” Shirayuki turned to him only to duck backwards out of the way of the ridiculously long nose that was protruding from his new mask. She spluttered with laughter while he struck a gentlemanly pose, light reflecting off the length of the jewel-encrusted nose as he tilted his head endearingly towards her.

“Oh, yes, very subtle,” she managed, “Although, people would get suspicious if we appear too…nosy.”

Obi flashed her a grin, delighted.

“On the contrary, my lady! With this mask on we’ll be sure to sniff out the perpetrators in no time!”

Eisetsu was suddenly between them, feigning a smile.

“Ahahaha…yes. I think a smaller mask would suffice. Have you considered what you will be wearing? You will want the mask to suit your clothes, of course.”

Shirayuki blinked. “Oh, right, our clothes…” She had not thought of packing for a ball when they had been putting outfits together for their journey from Lilias.

“The autumn-leaf dress would go well with some of these, wouldn’t it my lady?” Obi offered, as if reading her mind. He had taken the mask off now, most likely due to Eisetsu’s politely pointed look.

“The autumn-? Oh, yes, maybe…” She remembered that Obi had given the dress that nickname when she had been deciding whether or not it was worth the struggle to fold into her bag. It wasn’t a ball-gown exactly but was certainly one of her nicer dresses; a warm russet material that fanned out about her ankles and had sleeves that fell in ruffles at her elbows.

She had held it in front of herself to get Obi’s opinion on whether to take it or not. He had insisted that she should, that she would look like a falling autumn leaf if she were to dance in it, and had grinned with such conviction at the thought that she too was won over by it.

“Autumn-leaf dress? So we’re looking for oranges, golds, hmm maybe burgundy…” Eisetsu swept along the shelves in search. Shirayuki edged over to Obi.

“I don’t think that dress is right for a ball though, Obi.”

“Shame,” Obi murmured, watching Eisetsu amusedly. “I’ve been waiting to see you wear that one.”

Shirayuki couldn’t help but feel the warmth in his tone when he said that, and wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Shirayuki, Obi!” The urgency in Ryuu’s voice made them both spin around in concern to find him trotting up to them clutching a mask with Shuu alongside.

“I think this is a good one…” He showed them the mask. It was deep chestnut brown, practically the same shade as his hair, embroidered with delicate dark green vines and tiny muted pink flowers.

“It’s lovely, Ryuu!” Shirayuki beamed. “Good eye!”

“And it will certainly bring out your good eyes,” Obi nodded. Ryuu seemed satisfied at this.

“Shuu says he doesn’t know what flowers they are meant to be, but they look like Rose Daphne to me,” he said, stroking a finger fondly over the embroidery. Eisetsu was suddenly amongst them with a couple of masks in hand.

“Right,” he said, appearing very pleased with himself, “Here, Shirayuki, I knew I had one that was perfect for ‘autumn leaf’ themed attire!” The eye-mask he handed her was a patchwork of miniature leaves, surrounding the eyes in burnt oranges, reds and yellows, with a few larger ones escaping the confines of the top of the mask.

“And for you, Sir Obi,” Eisetsu continued. Obi’s was a smooth black eye-mask that was also decorated with leaves except his were dark browns brushed with tarnished gold that formed a crest at the top right of the mask.

“I took the liberty of assuming you would be want to be matching,” Eisetsu explained, giving them both a knowing smile, the kind that is usually found alongside a nudge and a wink.

Shirayuki gaped for a second, and automatically glanced in Obi’s direction. He met her gaze and she recognised that look all too well; the playful glint in his eyes and tug of a smile requesting assistance in toying with a mark.

“How acute of you, Lord Eisetsu,” Obi responded, accepting the mask. “It’s practically camouflage. People will be sure to…leaf us alone.”

“Ah! Ahaha! Yes, indeed!” Eisetsu appeared far more able to appreciate wordplay when it was wrapped up in a compliment.

“With that said,” Shirayuki spoke up with an apologetic look, “I’m afraid the, uh, ‘autumn leaf’ dress I own would not be up to standard for a ball, Lord Eisetsu.” He waved a hand, undeterred.

“Then we will order you one, in the same style but ball-worthy. There is time to do so, do not worry.”

“I thank you, but I couldn’t possibly have you spend money on me,” She insisted. Eisetsu sighed, his proud posture wilting a little.

“Then what do you suggest, Lady Shirayuki?” Shuu stepped forward.

“If I may, we have clothes available for you to use, just as you did at our previous ball.” Eisetsu beamed and brought his hands together with a clap.

“There you have it, problem solved. Just pick out a dress that compliments the mask and we are good to go.”

---

With a couple of alterations, the dress was ready for her to wear, with shoes and gloves to match. Shirayuki was amazed at the speed at which this was done, not to mention the finesse of the finished product. No matter how much time had passed since she had entered Zen’s world, she still found this level of luxury bizarre.

She sat on her bed, staring at the ensemble that was now hung on her wardrobe door. Eisetsu had wrinkled his nose when he had seen what she had picked out.

(“It is…rather plain, don’t you think?”

“That was the idea, wasn’t it Lord Eisetsu? To allow us to move unnoticed?” His mouth twisted with displeasure as he examined the dress.

“Indeed…however, surely looking this bland amongst other fabulous outfits will make you stand out all the more!” he swept the dress into his arms and strode towards the door.

“I have some ideas for small embellishments - have no fear!” he assured when he saw Shirayuki open her mouth to protest.

“I promise they will be only minor alterations! Trust me!”

The door shut behind him and Shirayuki turned helplessly to Obi and Ryuu. Obi shrugged.

“It is his forté.”)

How was this ball going to pan out exactly? They were to look and listen out for a 'Madame Liera', and it was paramount for them to be stealthy. Dancing would be a good way to move around the room while blending in with the crowd, right?

She stepped onto the soft carpet and stood up straight, holding her arms out to embrace her imaginary partner, and began counting the steps in her mind. Her muscle memory served well, guiding her across the room as her nightdress swirled around her shins.

Someone knocking on the door made her judder to a stop. Two swift knocks, a pause, and then three more.

Obi she thought, feet swapping dancing for rushing to the door. Or Ryuu, she corrected herself. No, Ryuu’s knock is softer, more hesitant. That’s Obi.

Obi stood on the other side of the door, hair looking a little mussed up as if he’d been trying to sleep until recently.

“Hey Miss, sorry to call so late, things got hectic this evening with all that dress stuff so I just wanted to check in with you, see how you’re doing.”

“No problem!” She answered, “I was hoping you would, actually.” Obi’s eyebrow cocked.

“Is that so?”

“I can’t sleep not knowing what our plan is for the ball,” she elaborated, standing to the side so he could enter the room.

“If you have the time, could we go over a strategy? Just a basic first-draft type plan, it would put my mind at ease, I think.”

He grinned, taking a seat on the sofa by the tea-table.

“Of course! Love a good first-draft. The best kind of draft, in my opinion.” Shirayuki settled next to him.

“I was thinking, obviously one of the ways to blend in at the ball is to dance. We stood out like sore thumbs last time before Hisame asked me to dance. I was actually going over some steps just before you knocked, but I think I’m out of practice."

Obi smirked. “A least you’ve had practice at some point. I’m not exactly sure how I got away with my poor excuse for dancing the last time.”

“Wait - have you not had training?” He shook his head, clearly amused by the increasingly disbelieving look on her face.

“I thought for sure you had by the way you moved...” His head fell back with laughter.

“That,” he said, “would be mimicry. I’m sure the lords and ladies around us were wondering just what this imposter was doing dancing with you.”

“Even if you call it mimicry that only makes it more impressive!” Shirayuki was quick to counter, leaning forward insistently. “You learned that just by watching others dance?” She slumped back against the cushions. “I wish I had your skill, Obi.”

“It’s nothing, just something I’ve always been able to do. It’s nowhere near as impressive as spending time and effort mastering something, the way you’re doing with dancing.” His modesty did him credit, but Shirayuki was curious about whether he actually believed that his ability was nothing special.

“Well,” she smiled, “‘Mastering’ is going a bit far. I’m just happy to be able to follow a tempo without falling over my partners’ feet.”

“With that in mind,” Obi stood and offered her his hand. “Maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”

He pulled her upright and they stood opposite each other, Obi sweeping one hand across his chest as he bent into a deep bow.

“A pleasure, My lady. What song is it this evening? Something lively?"

“I was actually thinking something slow,” Shirayuki replied, curtsying with only a slight wobble.

“...Slow?”

“Yes. Lord Eisetsu already believes us to be a couple and I realised that could work to our advantage.” She had a plan, that much was evident in her expression as she drew closer to him and held out her arms, but Obi appeared to have frozen.

“Oh, sorry, have you not experienced a slow dance before? Here,” She took his hands and planted them on either side of her waist.

“You hold on here, and I go...here.” She smiled encouragingly at him, her wrists draped around his neck.

“It’s a really easy dance too, just kind of swaying from side to side, and it allows us to get close, see?”

She closed the distance between them, her chin brushing his shoulder as she tilted her head up to his ear.

“It’s ideal for communicating discreetly,” she said softly, demonstrating her point. At this range she noticed how the skin of Obi’s neck was curiously flushed and prickled with goosebumps.

“Oh, is this a rash, Obi?” She moved to pull down the collar of his top for a better look but he caught her hand before she had the chance.

“I’m quite well Miss, don’t worry.” He spun her into a twirl, and then another for good measure, turning her gasp into giggles.

“So if you and I are tearing up the dancefloor on the night, where does that leave little Ryuu?”

“He has been getting along quite well with Shuu, I noticed,” Shirayuki said thoughtfully, grounding her feet to prevent Obi from pirouetting her any further across the room. Obi grunted at her words.

“Even after Shuu manipulated us - Ryuu especially - with that fake coughing fit…Ryuu isn’t the sort to hold a grudge, it seems.”

“No time for grudges right now, Obi,” Shirayuki said practically, resuming her position and curling her hands behind his neck once again. “I wondered if they might stick together at the ball. Shuu is experienced at these things, so it might be comforting for Ryuu to have him at his side? Your hands go on my waist remember, Obi.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, I remember,” his hands, that had been hovering falteringly in her general direction, now slowly closed in on her sides until his fingertips barely met the fabric of her dress.

“Dancing like this will allow us to examine the room and talk subtly without drawing any attention to ourselves,” Shirayuki explained enthusiastically as they swayed. “Everyone will assume we are a couple with no interest in anything but each other!”

Obi’s eyes scanned the room as if looking for something to focus on, his laugh sounding a little forced.

“Just, ah, give me a warning before you spring a kiss on me, alright Miss?” Shirayuki’s silence brought his eyes back to her, finding her head tilted and eyebrows raised thoughtfully.

“Miss,” he choked out, “you’re not actually considering – that was a joke!!” She ducked her head, a blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Yes, of course! I was only wondering if that would be expected at any point, if we were going to continue this, um, pretence,” she shook her head, “But you’re right, it’s not necessary!”

“I think Master would have my head if we went that far,” Obi said with a jaunty wiggle of his eyebrows, drawing a shy grin from her.

“Can’t have that,” she agreed. They continued swaying in the dim candle light as silence settled around them. There was something almost natural in the shifting of their weight in each other’s arms that brought a content smile to Shirayuki’s lips; Obi could always match her movements as if he already knew them. She allowed her eyes to close, feeling the tiredness of the day catching up with her.

“Miss…?” Obi’s voice was low and closer than she expected. Her eyes blinked opened and to her embarrassment she realised she had been leaning into him. Obi was peering down at her, his eyes dark, and the feeling of his hands supporting her waist was somehow far more present than it had been moments ago.

All of a sudden she was back at the entrance to Eisetsu’s gardens, Obi’s hand pressing his cape round her shoulder, and she could see nothing but his eyes, dark eyelashes over deep gold and black that held her, that didn’t waver from her for one second. Or rather for ten.

Shirayuki pulled away, managing to do so without betraying the strange panic that had just surged through her, and straightened her skirt, if only to do something else with her hands.

“Ah - sorry - tired,” She said haltingly.

“No worries,” Obi replied, “I’ll let you get some sleep.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes as he moved to the door, the panic still swirling in the pit of her stomach.

“See you tomorrow for draft two, then,” he said with a parting wave. Shirayuki turned to him in a fluster.

“Huh?” He bit back a laugh.

“Draft two?...Of the plan?” he explained slowly, amused grin spreading across his face as she gaped at him, her mind in a fuzz. The memory of her earlier words suddenly clicked back into place in her mind.

“Oh – Oohh! Yes! Let’s do that! Tomorrow!” His eyes were brimming with silent laughter, but he graciously bid her goodnight and ducked out of the room before he allowed himself to let it loose.

Shirayuki stood somewhat dumbfounded alone in her room. It felt as if the panic had taken flight in her stomach. Good grief, did she really have butterflies? She clapped her hands on her cheeks in an effort to regain her senses and marched over to her bed, extinguishing candles on the way, determined to sleep and awaken fresh and sensible in the morning.

As she lay down her eyes were drawn once again to the outline of the dress hanging on the wardrobe. It was pleasant, but she found herself regretting that she wouldn’t be able to dance in the autumn-leaf dress.

“Shame…I’ve been waiting to see you wear that one.”

The butterflies stirred.

Damn it.

#obiyukimadness22 #Soiree away #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #shirayuki #obi #obiyuki #fake relationship #I am bound to find errors in this later but I am throwing it out there and trying not to be perfectionist about it!!#Do they even slow dance in this universe?! Well they do now!#ngl this was mostly an excuse for me to imagine and describe lots of masks that I wish we'd had in canon #Disclaimer: the soirée does not actually occur here - I have intentions to continue but make no promises 😅#also just to confirm when I say ‘the sequel’ I mean the sequel to eisetsu’s initial ball in canon #this is not the sequel to another fic #mywriting #fic

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batgirlsay · 2 years

Text

Green and Gold

For Obiyuki Madness 2022 “Fake Relationship” by @snowwhite-andtheknight

Trope type themes were more difficult than I expected... so this playlist ended up being “10 Seconds Later” Version 2 after looking at the songs I had compiled since the last round of playlists. The title represents their eyes in that fateful fake stare and other lyrics with color and eye imagery throughout. Most songs are rediscovered Incubus songs to fit the prompt and I borrowed a few songs from my original Matt Pond Obi playlist to fill in the blanks.

Green Eyes- Joseph Imperfect- Matt Pond Stopping- Matt Pond Release Me- Mae Oil and Water- Incubus Black Heart Inertia- Incubus Neither of Us Can See- Incubus If Not Now, When?- Incubus

Summary lyrics are cited after the cut:

Green Eyes- Joseph

Those green eyes are my green light

I'm ready for the fall, if you know me at all You know I don't need lights to decide I'm not changing my mind

We could both play the pretender Circling round this parking lot

Imperfect- Matt Pond PA

The leaves came with a turning twist From leaves upon the floor The heart skips with a crashing fall Leave us always wanting more

The pulse picks up inside the dark When the bells break in the woods Our eyes so wide they give off light You've never looked so good

Imperfect, that's the way we want it

May all our scars Be signs of how truly far we have come

Stopping- Matt Pond PA

If I could stop Don't you think I'd stop? If I could write you off Wouldn't I stop writing to you?

My memory goes around the bend Can't track start and I can't make it end Fawn stays undaunted in the headlights

I won't jump any walls I won't cut through the thick I will stay on my side

Your white tail bolts into the dark Heart's in your throat And your throat's in your heart Fawn is off in the wilderness

I know you won't belong Not to me, not to me I believed for so long

Close my eyes Never see

Softly say turn it off forever

Release Me- Mae

Grey clouds they infiltrate As every move you make Gets me closer to clarity

Could you be the one to release me Waiting for your love to free me

A torrential downpour The potential for more Cease to fight this tension that Ignites us here in the dark Cause tension causes friction And this friction leads to spark

Oil and Water- Incubus

You and I are like oil and water And we've been trying to mix it up

I've been smiling with anchors on my shoulders And I've been dying to let them go

Babe, this wouldn't be the first time It will not be the last time There is no parasol that could shelter this weather

Black Heart Inertia- Incubus

Walking alone tonight Cause I've only got room for two Me and my burdened black heart It's all we know how to do

Pulled by a false inertia Pushed out by circumstance

Here I am, first foot of the climb Watch me go Lover, can you help me? I'm a child lost in the woods A lit path eludes me

You're a mountain that I'd like to climb Not to conquer, but to share in the view You're a bonfire and I'm gathered 'round you Set this old black heart inertia aflame

Neither of Us Can See- Incubus

I am one big walking chemical reaction A buzzing hive of self synopsis and nascent self perception Isn't it disdainful and curious That both of us think we know everything

We both have pains We both have eyes Neither of us can see

One in the same Two of a kind And neither of us can see

If Not Now, When?- Incubus

I have waited, dined on ashes Swung from chandeliers and climbed Everest And none of it's got me close to this

I've waited all my life If not now, when will I?

We've been good, even a blast, but Don't you feel like something's missing here? Don't you dare

Stand up and face the bright light Don't hide your eyes It's time

#akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #obiyukimadness22 #obiyuki madness 2022 #obiyuki #shirayuki #obi #playlist #lyrics #joseph band #matt pond pa #mae #incubus #first time submitting for obiyuki madness!#I needed an image with their eye colors so this works!

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onedivinemisfit · 2 years

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Obiyukimadness22 second semifinal - Bathtub Bonding

I dare you all to come up with a platonic reason for this scene >:3c

Since I’m presenting only the lineart, I made sure to work really hard on making it look good, and sprinkled in a lot more details than I originally planned! Spot the easter egg if you can XD

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata

Art: Me

Free to color transparent png below the readmore 👇

#obiyukimadness22 #akagami no shirayukihime #ans #snow white with the red hair #obiyuki #shirayuki #obi #myart #bathtub bonding #free lineart #i loved working on this so much #it’s supposed to be shirayuki’s bathroom yes #in a modern setting #now to figure out how obi also landed in here #remember it gotta be platonic cuz I DARED YA :p

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ruleofexception · 2 years

Text

The Biggest Lie (Twitch Universe)

A continuation of Twitch and immediately following this.

@snowwhite-andtheknight

Obi does not lie.

That’s part of what made him so lethal. It’s why he rose through the ranks and demanded the respect and fear of those beneath him.

It’s also the reason why his body is now a map of scars and stitches. A patchwork quilt of memories he’ll never be free of.

Because regardless of what it may cost him, he does not lie.

So, when sandpaper eyes finally open to find that blinding sunlight has replaced the gentle caress of moonlight against the sheets, he can only be surprised; because to say he’s not would be one of the biggest lies he could ever tell himself.

Perhaps, others would not think this is something to be surprised over. Not something worth celebrating. But to him, this is a morning he’s not likely to forget. Ever.

Because not only has he slept, but he’s slept well. For the first time, perhaps in his life, the night saw him through until morning without incident or night terrors and, if he had to guess, it’s thanks to-

“Mmmm...” a cold nose nuzzles the back of his neck. The arm laying heavy on his hip - still careful of his stitches, even in her sleep - tries to pull him a little closer and-

And he’s not sure what he should do.

Does he move? Wake her, as he wiggles himself out of her grasp with a half-baked apology souring in his throat? Or does he lay still?

Take in shallow breaths and release trembling exhales. Lay still as he can, even while his stitches ache beneath the slight pressure of her touch. Let her hold him, as he’s never been held before. Cuddle into him in a way that has his heart aching for more; fearing the moment she lets him go.

It would certainly be easier on him if he just moved. Wake her and put an end to this, before he has a chance to really consider if this - her wiggling over in the middle of the night to wrap him up in her arms, and waking to her sleepy lips brushing against the back of his neck - is something he could look forward to, should he stay.

Wake her, before he can wonder if he would continue to sleep - to dream - as he had last night, if only she’s there beside him to chase the nightmares away.

The slight smile he wears slips and his heart falls.

He should wake her.

He’s dreaming right now, if he thinks this is something that might happen again. That this is something he might have the pleasure of getting used to. The odds of being able to share her bed for any longer than absolutely necessary are non-existent and this little arrangement will end before it’s really begun. That’s a fact.

Because, injured as he is, his wounds will heal. They always do.

Sooner, rather than later, he’ll not be in need of a safe haven and someone to care for him. And when that day comes, she’ll look up at him with those wide emerald eyes of hers and be happy for him. She’ll be grateful that he didn’t die on her watch, and he’ll know, even if she doesn’t ask outright, that it’s time for him to leave.

Obi does not lie and yet, in this moment, it’s hard not to lie to himself. To tell himself that when that day does come, it’ll be easy to leave. That he’ll be fine to walk out the front door. To walk away from her and-

“Mmmm… O…bi…”

Lips, soft and warm and carrying his name in a way that makes him feel like he’s come home, flutter against the base of his neck. Fingers curl against his stomach. A foot twitches and kicks the back of his calf, as she curls further into him, breathing deep and heavy.

Slow - careful so he does not startle nor wake her from whatever dream has her whispering his name as a kiss pressed to where ink and scars paint his skin - his eyes scrunch shut and lips fold into a flat line as he works to bring his trembling hand up to where hers is resting on his stomach.

The gentle nudge of his fingers to hers is enough that she whimpers and moans, hot against his tattoo; stretching and searching, she doesn’t stop until his hand’s been captured by hers. Their fingers wound together atop one of the more brutal marks laid upon him. One of the ones she cursed and huffed over with anger in her eyes and a wobble in her lip.

Thick with the sleep she tries to shed like it’s a shadow clinging to her shoulders, Shirayuki slurs. “Mmmornin’.”

“S-Sorry, I-” his heart, never having fully solidified after last night, drowns his chest in a warmth that rivals the sunlight pouring in from the window. Choking, the fingers held in hers, squeeze softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’kay.” She breathes - still sounding like she’s lost partway to dreams - and rests her cold nose against his tattoo once more, “How’d’yah sleep?”

Words that yearn to tell her he’s not sure he’s ever slept so soundly - ones that will hold glimpses into a past he’s not yet ready to completely share with her - march along his tongue. It’s with great effort on his part that he manages to grit his teeth enough to block the words, but not so much that he becomes tense or sounds as though he’s somehow upset by the question. “I slept okay. You?”

“Truthfully?” She purrs, breath hot against his skin as she stifles a yawn and buries her face further into him, giving his hand a little squeeze as she does, “I don’t think I’ve slept that well in ages and-”

The sleepy words that’d been lazily falling off her tongue come to a stuttering halt.

The hand capturing his stiffens and flexes. A sharp hiccup dances along the nape of his neck as she tenses and - to his complete and utter disappointment - starts to pull away.

“S-Sorry Obi-”

“For what?” Hoping he doesn’t sound as heartbroken about her pulling away as his heart would have him believe, he frowns at the wall and urges himself not to roll over, take her tiny face between his hands, lose himself to the freckles bridged over her nose and endless emerald gaze, and ask her if they can stay like this a bit longer.

“I should have warned you that I, ah-” if the wobble in her tone is any indication, her cheeks are likely painted a shade that rivals her hair. “I-I tend to cuddle when I sleep. Usually I just surround myself with pillows, but, w-well…”

Fuck, she’s so cute.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” This is decidedly not okay. Not even a little bit. This is the worst thing he can possibly do to his poor heart. And still, his stupid mouth won’t stop flapping. “Actually, it was kinda nice. I guess.”

A slight pause, then a hopeful sort of hum. “It was?”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t have much to compare to as this was the first time I’ve ever-” he hears himself speaking, before it registers that he has a flood of words sitting in his mouth, slowly leaking from between his teeth. In a hopeless attempt to keep from gushing too much, he finishes lamely. “S-Slept like… that.”

“O-Oh.” Shirayuki rasps, entirely too breathless and not at all good for his heart.

“But, I liked it.” He whispers. Not sure if it’s the right thing to say. Not sure if he’s allowed to say something so bold and direct. Not even sure why he’s telling her. Why he wants to tell her, instead of just sealing away the truth on his tongue.

She must think him the most pitiful creature.

Here he is, a man who’s survival is a map of scars she can easily navigate and trace; and yet he falls apart with a soft touch or a warm embrace. Aches with the kindness and affection she’s unwittingly shown someone like him.

Bedsprings groan as she shifts. A slow and steady exhale warms his back.

Her cold nose returns; presses itself against his neck as she draws nearer once more. Hesitantly, her arm wanders back over his hip. Struggles to find and take his hand into hers, amidst the minefield of stitches stretching out under his shirt.

Obi doesn’t breathe.

So small, he nearly doesn’t hear her, her lips flutter against his skin as she admits, “Me too.”

Cheeks burn and heart throbs. Fingers cautiously re-thread with hers and he shuts his eyes. Sends up a silent prayer to whatever gods or deities may be out there, that they let this moment last a little longer. Begs them to let him hold onto this feeling for a few more minutes. Let him pretend that this is something that could be his to look forward to, for the rest of his days.

And it’s here, in her arms, that he does something he’s never done before.

He lies.

When his heart whispers that this life - this beautiful, wonderful existence Shirayuki has invited him to share a glimpse of - could be real and his, if only he chose to pursue it, he lies.

He tells himself that this isn’t the kind of life he’s suited for.

That this isn’t the kind of life he’s deserving of.

That this is only a moment of weakness.

Here, wrapped in the safety of her arms, wishing that they could stay like this until he draws his last breath, he tells himself the biggest lie. He says that he doesn’t want this. That he doesn’t want her.

If only he were a better liar, maybe he’d actually believe it.

_____

Obi sips coffee from a purple mug, covered in cartoon ducks, and re-reads the note she left for him.

Morning Obi,

Hope you slept okay. I didn’t want to wake you. Just wanted to let you know I picked up a shift today, and should be home around 8.

I left my cell on the charger for you (didn’t know if you have a phone?), so if you need me for anything (and I mean anything), please call the hospital:

618-625-8313 ext.23

Will pick up pizza for dinner.

See you tonight!

-S

It’s just a few lines scrawled on a wrinkly, coffee-stained pad of paper. It shouldn’t make his heart flutter like this. Make his stomach tighten.

But it’s so… normal.

Domestic.

If not for his name written in blue ink across the top, he’d think that this was a note written for some boyfriend long ago. Because that’s what it feels like. Like it’s a note written for someone she’s close to and cares for. A note meant to soothe worries before they can crop up. Meant to reassure that she’s okay and not just vanished.

Another sip of coffee and he rubs at his shoulder. Takes in a deep breath as he tries to calm his heart. Convince it that a note like this doesn’t mean anything beyond her knowing him well enough to have guessed that he would panic, the moment he woke to find her missing.

This note is a courtesy. Nothing more.

He knows that.

And, yet…

“Fuck me.” He whispers to himself. Desperate to keep his hopes from reading too much into things. From calling him out as the liar he is.

Sharing her bed the last few nights - waking up with her snuggled into his side or drooling on his shoulder - has been difficult enough to ignore or write-off as being something that will be easy to walk away from, once he’s no longer laced up with stitches and at risk of bleeding out should he move too fast. But this stupid note-

The fact that she thought of him-

That she didn’t want him to worry…

Somehow it makes everything feel a bit more real. Like he could actually settle into this life with her. Permanently. Not just for a handful of weeks, while she tends to his wounds and tries to prevent him from scarring.

They could spend a lifetime, filling notepads with scribbled messages to each other. Stupid little notes, just to let the other know that everything is okay and that they were thinking of them, and-

And he’s not sure he’s ever wanted anything more badly in his life.

Another sip of coffee.

His heart aches. Writhes in his chest like a child throwing a tantrum, as it begs him to stop lying to himself and just do his best. Take a chance and see if, maybe, despite his past and everything he’s already put her through, she’ll have him.

Maybe, there’s no harm in seeing what may or may not come of this…

_____

It’s a thousand degrees in here. And climbing.

Teeth grit and rag clenched so tightly in his fist, it’s a wonder he’s yet to tear it to shreds, Obi scrubs furiously at a water stain beneath the sink he’s only just managed to stop leaking; and ignores the way his stitches pull and muscles scream at him to stop pushing himself so hard and-

In the other room, her phone starts to ring.

Again.

Obi twitches. Physically shakes and trembles to hear the overly cheerful melody carrying through the apartment for the 28th time this hour.

It rings and rings and rings and rings.

And he has tried, so hard, to ignore it. After verifying it’s not the hospital number she’d given him, desperately trying to get a hold of him, he’s been respectful of her privacy. Promised himself that he wouldn’t go needlessly snooping around in her phone or answer any of the bajillion texts or calls she’s already received this morning, but-

But this is getting ridiculous. And he’s hot and cranky and sore, and fixing her sink has just about exhausted his patience for the amount of shit he can handle right now and-

Blissful silence sweeps into the apartment that’s trying to cook him as the ringing finally stops.

He lets out a shaky breath; a weak attempt to gain some control over his temper. Wipes the sweat from his brow and does another pass over the stain. It’s probably as good as it’ll get, seeing as how this looks like years’ worth of having the sink steadily drip-

The phone starts ringing again.

Annoyance reaching something he can only liken to fury, he hisses, throwing the rag down and wrestling himself out from under the sink with curses muttered under his breath.

Wiping grease-stained hands, covered in soap suds, down his thighs, Obi stomps his way across the living room, snatches the phone off the charger, swipes the little green bar flashing at the bottom and growls, before he’s even pressed it up to his ear, “She’s not here, numb-nuts. So why don’t you-”

“Who is this?” A huffy male voice demands. “Where’s Shirayuki?”

Obi pauses. Teeth grit as a knot forms in his stomach. Something tells him that this is the man - her ex - that doesn’t seem to understand she’s not interested anymore. The one who’s ‘relatively harmless’ and ‘more annoying than anything’...

More like obsessive.

Swallowing hard, he readies another lie on his tongue and sends out a silent apology to Shirayuki for what he’s about to do.

Pulling from all the years and shit situations he found himself in while he was a part of Kira-kai, he all but growls into the phone. “I’m her boyfriend. And who the fuck are you?”

“Bullshit!” The man he assumes is Zen screeches into the phone, shrill and harsh, “I’m her boyfriend!”

“Ah. So, you’re Zen. The ex who can’t take a hint.” Obi leans against the wall, wishing he could use more than just his words to get this guy to leave Shirayuki alone. “Listen buddy, I’ll only say this once, so you’d best be sure you pay attention-”

“Put Shirayuki on the phon-”

“If you call this number, or harass her again, I’ll personally ensure you live to regret it.” The genuine, protective threat slips easily from his lips; surprising him a little at just how much he’s come to care for her in only the short time they’ve known each other. “Understood?”

He doesn’t bother to wait for a response. Doesn’t think it important to stand here and listen to Zen struggling to form words from his rage. He just hangs up, right as Zen takes a deep breath, like he’s been sucker-punched-

And promptly blocks the number from Shirayuki’s phone.

Obi swallows hard, staring blankly down at the screen while his heart slowly claws its way up into his throat.

“Fuck.” He wheezes as sweat starts to mark the back of his neck and pool at the base of his spine. None-too-gently, he knocks the edge of the phone against his forehead. “Shit.”

That’s a big fucking lie he just told. Massive.

Astronomical, even.

And this-

This is why he doesn’t lie.

Because this fucking lie that fell so easily out of his mouth has its own goddamn gravity field and he’s already being crushed under the weight of it.

He grips the phone a little tighter, knowing what he has to do now, but fearing how she’ll respond. Terrified to call her up and admit that he’s just told her obsessive, stalker of an ex that they’re dating. That he’s her boyfriend.

But he needs to. Before Zen does something stupid like show up at her work to harass her about some boyfriend she doesn’t even have.

Apologize. That’s all he can do.

Explain himself and then apologize.

Hope and pray to whatever deities saw fit to grant him his wish to spend mornings with Shirayuki curled into his side and snoring softly, that she forgive him for this. Somehow.

“Fuck me…” Another shallow breath and numb knees start to carry him towards the kitchen. Towards the note she left for him and the hospital number scratched into coffee-stained paper with blue ink.

#obiyukimadness22 #fake dating #obiyuki #ans #akagami no shirayukihime #twitch universe

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kirayaykimura · 2 years

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Don’t Wanna Keep Secrets Just To Keep You

For Obiyuki Madness 2022 Final Round - Fake Relationship

The bar & grill closest to the pharmacy Shirayuki worked at also happened to provide some of the best people-watching in town. Or so she’d been told. She never could get the hang of being interested in speculating on random people’s lives, but Obi seemed to like it and, well, she liked Obi.

The people-watching would probably be excellent that night, too. Though it was only six at night on a Thursday, the place was already half-full. Not so packed that she wanted to suggest another place for dinner, but enough that she had to wait a few minutes for the bartender to get to her. It was during those unfortunate minutes that she had attracted the attention of a very inebriated man who was insisting he buy her a drink. Why, she had no idea.

“I don’t want to drink alone,” he said, leaning in close like he was confiding something in her. She held her ground, but only just. The hot breath on her neck was making it really hard not to shove him off the other side of his stool. But all he’d done so far was - rather forcefully - offer to buy her a drink. Nothing that deserved bodily harm. She merely took as far a step away as she could manage without knocking into anyone else.

He got the hint and pulled out of her space, but dove right back in with, “C’mon. Let me buy you a drink.”

“No, thank you. I am perfectly capable of buying my own drink.”

“Yeah, but it’s like the…” He trailed off and waved a careless hand, nearly knocking his own drink off the bar. “The principle of the thing. Or whatever.”

She didn’t know what he meant and had more than a sneaking suspicion he didn’t either, so she said nothing.

Undeterred, he asked “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yes,” she said.

“A boyfriend?”

She didn’t know what to say to that. What difference did it make?

Apparently taking her silence as a no, he asked, “So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I said no,” Shirayuki said firmly, trying to keep a tight leash on her temper. “Multiple times.”

He grinned, apparently pleased with her answer, and said, “You’re feisty. I like that.”

You cannot hit him. It would be a bad idea to hit him, Shirayuki reminded herself. Swallowing down her more feisty reactions, she thought about the situation logically. He wasn’t taking a hint. He wasn’t accepting overt denials. It would help to know why he was doing what he was doing. Maybe if she understood him a little better, she could fix the fundamental issue this guy so obviously had. And who knew? He might even turn into a friend before the night was over. She’d befriended less pleasant sorts before, after all.

She wouldn’t count Obi as one of the unpleasant sorts, but she knew he would. True, they met when he stole her identity and tried to ruin her life, but now look where they were! She could absolutely turn this interaction around with some gentle encouragement and a friendly ear.

*****

Ten minutes later, Obi appeared next to the shoulder the man - Bradley - wasn’t currently sobbing into. He placed a hand at the small of her back as he leaned around her to peek at Bradley’s tear-streaked face.

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” Obi teased her, rerouting her attention from patting this strange, sad man’s head to the person she’d been waiting for.

“I don’t know what happened,” she whispered. One minute she was asking Bradley why he felt the need to pressure women into drinking with him, and the next he was tearing up and telling her about how he felt unlovable so he used money and persistence to get women to spend time with him. He was currently in the middle of a story about his childhood dog. There was probably a connection there, but she was thankful her job at the moment was to listen, not to understand.

Obi simply laughed and slipped around her to duck under one of Bradley’s arms, heaving him up and off Shirayuki. Theoretically, she supposed, the move was supposed to put Bradley on his feet, but he looked like he was putting more weight on Obi’s side than his own legs. She watched Obi’s arm muscles tense under his henley to compensate for Bradley’s inability to stay upright at the moment. It was nice to see his gym membership was paying off.

“Come on, pal,” Obi said. “Let’s get you a Lyft and away from the nice, pretty girl.”

“She is nice,” Bradley agreed. “Do I know you?”

“Nope. But I know her.”

“You gotta protect her. She’s so pretty and single.”

“Single, huh?” Obi glanced over his shoulder at her, one eyebrow raised. Shirayuki sighed internally. He was going to tease her to no end for the rest of the night. There would be no normal conversation after this.

“I tried to wife her, but she didn’t want to.”

Shirayuki lost track of the conversation as the two plodded towards the exit. All she caught was half of Obi’s reply about better men failing something before they were swallowed by the crowd.

The situation with Bradly hadn’t even cracked the top twenty weirdest moments of her life, so she shrugged it off, took his newly-abandoned stool, and finally caught the bartender’s eye to order.

She was on her third (half) sip of her cider when she felt someone crowd into her space and reach around her to pluck what was supposed to be Obi’s beer off the bar.

“Excuse me,” Shirayuki said, gearing up to give the rude person a piece of her mind. The entitlement in this bar tonight was off the charts. When she spun on her stool and came face to face with Obi, all the fight left her at once.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s you.”

Obi raised his eyebrows at her over the rim of the glass.

“I thought you were stealing, well, your drink,” she explained. It didn’t quite make sense, but he must have gathered the gist because he nodded.

“My knight in shining armor,” he said, grabbing her drink off the bar and nodding for her to follow him to one of the tables. “Thank you for guarding my drink so diligently.”

Oh. Okay. Maybe he wasn’t going to tease her mercilessly after all. Nice, but weird. She’d been so sure he wouldn’t pass up the chance to talk about her kind face that just makes people want to open up to you, Miss.

She realized it was too much to hope for when he casually threw out, “So you’re single, huh?” as they slid into the booth they’d decided to claim for the night.

He watched her with an openly amused and slightly curious look as she tried and failed not to get annoyed all over again.

“He asked if I had a boyfriend,” she said. “I thought it would be a good chance to teach him that no means no, not, I’ve already been claimed means no.”

Obi nodded. “A noble endeavor.”

“Clearly it didn’t stick.”

“He did puke in the alley outside. I think it’s safe to say he was too wasted to function. I’m sure your lesson was presented very well. If he hadn’t taken up one of your arms crying on it, you probably could have whipped up a nice powerpoint, too.”

Should she have done that? He was joking, but maybe she should make one to have on hand in the future. A bright, colorful pie chart might-

“So, Miss,” Obi said, bringing her out of her head and back to the present, “do you come here often?”

She blinked at him.

“I mean, you must not,” he said. “I think I’d remember a pretty face like that.”

“What?”

Obi draped a casual arm across the back of the booth and let a playful smile tug at the corners of his lips. Voice deeper than it was a few seconds ago, he said, “Since you’re single, I thought I’d try my luck.”

It took her a moment to catch on. When she did, she said, “You realize you’re no better than Bradley, hitting on a stranger in a bar.”

Obi laughed, delighted.

“Of course you got his name,” he said. “Well, I’m hoping my attempt will be slightly more welcome. I’ve been told I’m quite handsome.”

Obi had a specific way of looking at her when he was feeling particularly mischievous. His expression would turn sly and his eyes would cut to her like he was inviting her in on the joke. A secret just for them. Though she’d made many friends since her lonely teenage years, it was that look from him that made her feel like she didn’t have to take on the world alone anymore.

But they weren’t taking on the world. It was just them. In a bar. Pretending to be different people for a while. And if she got to be any woman she wanted, she chose Kiki.

Trying for bored and unaffected, she said, “I’m more interested in a man’s personality.”

Obi clicked his tongue. “Can’t help you there.”

“Yes you can,” she said, immediately breaking character. “You have a wonderful personality.”

“And you are so bad at this,” Obi said on a laugh. “Honestly, Miss. We’ve only just met. How could you possibly know what my personality is like?”

“I, um- I’m really good at reading people?”

Obi let his chin fall to his chest in resigned disappointment. It didn’t do much to hide the curve of his smile, though.

“So bad,” he whispered to himself. Then, he looked up at her through his lashes and said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“Already?” she asked, trying to stay immersed and not get distracted by, as he said earlier, how handsome he looked in the low light, relaxed and looking at her like he wanted her six ways to Sunday.

“I fall fast,” he said with a shrug.

“That must make life very difficult.”

“Eh. It’s worked out fine so far.”

*****

An hour later, when they’d worked their way through names, jobs, and hobbies - about which Obi invented increasingly elaborate lies and Shirayuki failed at least three times to stop herself from calling him out because, well, she was actually pretty bad at the game - they headed out into the cold October night.

“Can we stop by the grocery store on the way home?” Shirayuki asked before they were half-way down the first block. Suzu’s birthday was coming up and she wanted to make cookies.

“You know,” Obi said, taking her hand in his, “the point of pretending to be strangers at a bar is to also pretend you’re taking a stranger home. If you act like we already live together, it defeats the whole purpose.”

“You’re the one who insisted we didn’t know each other. I don’t want to take a stranger home. I just want you.”

Obi went quiet in that peculiar way he did when she’d said something he didn’t know he was allowed to have. In the year they’d been dating, and the many years they’d been friends, she’d learned to just wait out those moments.

Sure enough, he heaved a very put-upon sigh after a beat and said, “Fine, I guess I don’t want to take a stranger home, either.” The hand that tightened infinitesimally around hers said, I only want you, too.

#obiyukimadness22 #the working title on this was 'fake (not) dating'#fun fact i wrote this idea many years ago for another pairing and thought it would work for obiyuki so i dusted it off #but they're very different couples so in the process of reworking it to fit these two i basically kept nothing #and then that version ended really sappy and melodramatic so i re rewrote it and now i'm tired of looking at it #good luck everyone still in the game!#title from tswift because 'cried like a baby coming home from the bar' made me laugh #my fic #snow white with the red hair

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