#and later shirayuki finding obi and torou again

[kirayaykimura]

live fast die young

It wasn’t unusual for Shirayuki to see a stray spray of blood she wasn’t expecting in one of the back areas of Izana’s club, but the amount of blood she encountered upon rounding the corner to her office gave her pause. The bodies littering the floor gave her another. 

“Hello?” she called. When she received no response, she quickly scanned the hallway, finding a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces. The darkest part of her was relieved to find no one she was incredibly close with. There were a few security guards she passed by on a semi-regular basis and a woman on the finance team. 

Shaking off the thought, she stepped into a puddle of blood next to the closest man - one of the unfamiliar faces; young enough that his cheeks stubbornly clung to their baby fat - and bent down to feel for a pulse. When she found none, she sighed softly. 

“May you find peace in the next life,” she told him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving on to the next. 

In total, she found only one with a steady heartbeat. Torou, thankfully, had pulled through. Though Shirayuki had never been very close to Torou, she had been dreading having to pass along the bad news to Obi. With a bullet in her shoulder and a through and through in her calf, Torou wasn’t doing spectacularly, but she’d make it. All she needed to do was survive Shirayuki hauling her off to the medical office a few feet away. At the first tug, Torou let out a faint, pained moan. 

“Good,” Shirayuki said. “You’re still with me.” 

As soon as she said this, Torou gave a sharp cry of pain before fainting completely. Alright then. At least she wouldn't need to be careful anymore. Though Torou was not a large woman, dead weight was always a challenge. Usually she had help, but help was not a luxury Shirayuki could afford to wait for at the moment. She needed to get Torou somewhere safe and somewhere without a bunch of unknown blood around an open wound. Through sheer force of will and the muscles she’d gained hauling soil to and from her tiny garden at home, she managed to get them both into the safety of her office with minimal issue. Then, she quietly locked the door and did a sweep of the room. At first, it seemed as if they were in the clear, but then a hand raised up over the desk in a clear sign of surrender, causing Shirayuki to jump. 

“Hey,” Obi croaked a moment later when it was clear no weapons were going to make their way to his face. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” 

He peeked over the desk at Shirayuki, and even in the dim lighting she could tell he was pale. With the cabinet behind him open, she could only assume he’d been shot as well and was attempting to stitch himself back up. She was about to scold him for trying to fix himself again when she was right there with actual training to be able to do what he was attempting when his eyes fell on Torou at her feet. Impossibly, he went more pale. 

“She was out there?” he asked. 

“You didn’t know?” Shirayuki asked. 

Obi shook his head. “I was dealing with a few guys in the front, then a couple more in Zen’s office. After that, I took the back way in here to avoid bleeding all over the nice carpet.” 

Shirayuki wanted to tell him he deserved to bleed wherever he needed to bleed, but that was never going to come out right and she did have more pressing matters at hand. Namely, seeing if she could dig the bullet out of Torou’s shoulder before either it migrated or she woke up. It was so much nicer to do surgery on people who weren’t awake and screaming in her face. 

She set Torou’s feet down and rounded the desk to find her suture kit open on the floor beside Obi, everything still neatly in its place. The only evidence it had been tampered with at all was the streak of blood along the edge of the kit and the needle and thread Obi was currently holding. 

“It’s like I knew you were coming,” he said, holding out the needle and thread to her. The needle was unthreaded. He was likely shaking too hard to thread it, judging by the way his hands jumped in hers when she took everything from him. Even if he could patch up the giant gash in his thigh, the steadily oozing wound in his side would be too awkward to reach by himself, especially in his current state.

“Did you cauterize this?” she asked, already knowing the answer. 

“As the poet M.I.A. once said, live fast, die young.” 

She took a lighter out of the kit and lit the nearest candle. It would be nice if she got to light them when people weren’t bleeding out on her floor, but she supposed she knew what she was getting into when she agreed to work for Izana. 

“You need to sterilize things before you stick them inside yourself,” she said. 

“I was kind of working on borrowed time, miss. Wasn’t exactly thinking straight.” 

Shirayuki just gave him a look that said, I know but I’m not accepting that excuse, as she held the needle over the open flame for a few more seconds. She’d do a quick patch up of Torou’s leg before diving into her shoulder. 

“I’ll do you next,” Shirayuki told Obi. Since he was alert and nothing appeared to be currently lodged in any part of his body, he’d have to wait for her to circle back to him.

His lips twitched the way they did before he was about to tell a joke, and then he suddenly went still. A moment later, she understood why. Footsteps and faint whispers echoed from down the hall. 

“Hey,” Obi said, voice softer than usual. “Shirayuki? Can you do me a favor and run? Fast as you can.” 

Shirayuki’s fingertips went numb. Faintly, she said, “You called me Shirayuki.” It was not the part of the situation she should have been focusing on. She should have focused on the way his smile slipped deeper into a grimace the longer she looked at him, or the way he was less leaning against the desk than letting the desk keep him upright. There were clearly more pressing issues to be worried about, but what came out of her mouth was that. 

He shrugged through a grimace. “I’m selfish like that. Now go.” 

Well, that certainly wasn’t happening. Not when things were so dire here. Not when he was saying nonsensical things like her name and losing blood and being serious. No. She went into the medical profession to be able to save people. There was no way she was going to walk away and let Obi fight a battle he clearly didn’t think he would win. 

“Give me your gun,” she said, mind made up. 

“Miss-” 

“Give me,” she said, holding out her hand expectantly, “your gun. Please.” 

“You should go. Save yourself.” 

She simply stared at him, palm open and waiting. 

Obi caved first. He always caved first. Especially when she put what he called her no nonsense face to good use. With a sigh that was, concerningly, much less dramatic than normal, he said, “I don’t have a gun.” He gestured to the bloody tear in his side that meant something had clipped him at a very high speed as he flipped a knife up and out of his pocket with his free hand. “Brought a knife to a gun fight like a rookie.” 

“Well, don’t do that next time.” 

Obi snorted, then winced. Right. Not the time to make completely valid statements she knew he would take as jokes. 

“Do you know where we could get a gun?” Shirayuki asked. She crawled over to press an ear up against the door and heard a faint thump, followed by a less faint, “Goddammit.” Under her breath, she said, “We could probably use one pretty quickly.” 

“Are they outside?” Obi asked just as quietly, leaning around the desk to eye the door like watching it would keep whoever was on the other side out. 

“Do you have a gun stashed anywhere in here?” Shirayuki whispered. Though Obi’s weapon of choice was a knife, she knew for a fact that he still stashed guns for other workers in various locations throughout the place. She’d never accidentally found the one in this room, though, so he must have hidden it pretty well. 

“I don’t have one.” 

At her look, he said, “Honestly. None of us keep a gun in here.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s dangerous.” 

“We’re actively being shot at now. This whole line of work is dangerous.” 

“And I was trying to make it less so. Not having surprise guns around was part of that process.” 

“We’ll talk about this later. Do you think Torou has one?” 

“Probably not. If she-” 

Shirayuki skimmed her hands along Torou’s legs and found a small one strapped to her inner thigh. She rolled Torou safely into a corner before deftly removing the gun, checking to make sure it was loaded, then aiming it at the door. It was lighter than anything she’d ever handled before. Hopefully it wouldn’t take her too many practice shots to figure out how to compensate for the difference. There was no telling how many people were outside, and surprise could only give her so much of an edge. 

“Whoa,” Obi said, watching her test the gun’s weight against her palm. “You look pretty comfortable there, Annie Oakley.” 

“My grandpa started teaching me how to shoot when I was about five. It’s been years, but I think the muscle memory is still there.” 

“You’re gonna protect me?” 

Shirayuki didn’t take her eyes off the door as she said, “Of course.” 

This turned out to be the right call because the person behind the door chose that moment to kick the door in. It took them a couple of tries, door frame splintering under the force, and then Shirayuki was face to face with someone she had seen once. Only once. 

She shot him in the knee. 

It had not been a good first impression. She was determined to leave a worse second impression. 

The man howled in pain and dropped to the floor. She made quick work of the other two, giving them all non-fatal injuries. Well, non-fatal if the injuries were treated soon enough. That was up to them, though. 

“Are you going to try to shoot us again?” Shirayuki asked, kicking away everyone’s visible weapons. She didn’t drop her guard, though. She still had one bullet left in her gun and it was going in the head of anyone who tried her again. She only received pitiful moans, but no one reached for anything hidden so she was counting it as a win. 

Just as she was trying to decide how to tie them up before tending to, well, everyone bleeding out in her office, she heard the frantic steps of someone not trying to sneak up on her. 

“I know that run,” Obi said. In her periphery, she watched as he finally succumbed to everything and fainted while Zen rounded the corner, stopping just long enough to breathe a sigh of relief that she was okay. She, in turn, breathed a sigh of relief that Mitsuhide and Kiki weren’t far behind him. Finally, some help moving bodies. 

____

Hours later, once everyone had been stitched up and declared stable, once everyone who had tried to break in had been sent off to be dealt with the way club owners dealt with these events, once Shirayuki had at least cleaned her hands and changed her clothes (though her shoes were a lost cause; that’s what she got for wearing white Keds to work), she sat next to Obi and said, “Next time you want to call me by my name, just call me by my name. You don’t need to die for it.” 

Obi was silent for a long moment before he said, “Okay.”

[sabraeal]

Not Necessarily a Virtue

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2021 Practical Magic AU

There hadn’t been a plan when Obi picked up the phone.

All it had taken was one rogue text-- another case assigned to his social worker, one that was enough of an emergency that it his behavioral issues seem tame in comparison. Her chair rattles when she stans, its plastic back hitting the filing cabinets with a metallic tang, but her hands tremble more.

“This will be just a minute,” she says, smile plastered tight to her face. And then she leaves him there alone, his file open on her desk, flaws left out for the world to see.

It doesn’t bothered him. There’s no point, not when he already knows: he’s trouble with a capital-T, each failed family drawing him closer and closer to being unplaceable. Some people have a face only a mother could love, but Obi-- Obi has that for his personality. Though considering how each of his six almost-moms signed him away with a sigh of relief, walking out the plate glass doors without even a glance back, maybe he has the sort of personality that makes people reconsider whether they could be a mother.

So here he is again, freshly abandoned, back in the sterile halls of social services for the seventh time without a place to call home. He’s not even twelve.

Not that these people aren’t trying to change that-- he’s not some cat left at the shelter, free to a good home. Unless Kerry or Janine or the girl at the desk he didn’t get to read the name tag of wanted to sleep on their couch, they have to find someone to take him for the night. And he knows from experience, there’s always a family that believes they can change him. A young couple who thought all problem children needed was just a little extra love. By the time Kerry came back, there’d be good news waiting, a miracle crafted by three people who didn’t want to miss the Masked Singer finale. They’d pack him into the back of a car and ship him off to a new place to fail. Because no matter how many homes they tried to make for him, it’d never change how he felt.

Obi had tried, at first. He was just a little kid, wanting to be loved, but every home he went to itched like hives in his head, a constant buzz that set his teeth on edge and made him do anything, try anything to leave. He belonged somewhere else, somewhere not here, and he knew it like he knew Kerry’s other case had overdosed on a bottle of sleeping pills in his foster mother’s cabinet-- with an inexplicable certainty.

He waits thirty seconds after she leaves before he slides off the the plastic seat she’d put him in. They love these things, oddly shaped and in primary colors that make the little kids giddy, but Obi hates them. He’s undersized, and putting him in these kiddie rooms always makes people treat him like he’s eight instead of eleven, asking him about Blue’s Clues.

But that’s not why he gets up, not entirely. There’s a buzzing in the back of his brain, a knowing, and it makes him stand, his hand straying to the glass door. He can’t see anything outside, at least not anything besides more kiddie chairs and offices, but he steps out nonetheless. He steps out and, unerringly, turns to face the girl waiting for him down the hall.

“It’s you.” Her tawny hair stresses the elastic she’s trapped it in, too thick. It’s not one of those hair ones either, but one of those thick rubber bands they use on the produce in grocery store. It hurts; he knows because it’s common sense, but also because he just...Knows. Their eyes meet, and even though he doesn’t her name, they’ve known each other forever.

His mouth is dry when he asks, “Do you know me?”

“I saw you in a dream.” She takes a step toward him, her sneakers scuffed and worn, just like his. “You’re Obi. I’m Torou.”

He doesn’t know this girl. There’s a hundred ways she could get his name; one of them is sitting on a desk behind him right now. But when she looks up at him with eyes he’s only ever seen in the mirror, he holds out his hand. “Come here.”

His heart pounds with each mincing squeak of her sneakers on the tile. She’s taking too long and she’s coming too fast; each terrible second convinces him he’s making a mistake at the same time he’s doing what he was always meant to do. By the time she slips her hand into his, he’s trembling, but it doesn’t matter because they both are and this--

This is right. And he knows exactly what to do.

It’s holding her hand that he picks up the phone. He fucks it up the first time-- he gets that gross digital buzz before he notices the sticker beneath the speaker, informing him 9 dials out-- but the second one his fingers guide him, releasing the number he has no reason to know. A number he has no reason to believe will work, that could have just come from the weird recesses of his mind but--

But he’s not surprised when a man picks up. “Who is this? Do you know what time--?”

“We’re here,” Obi says, and it shouldn’t be enough, but it is. “Come pick us up.”

A specter arrives on the front walk at noon.

Obi knows by the hush in the office. Or really the weight of it-- it’s been quiet like this since last night, since he and Torou sat down on the big bean bag couch in the waiting room, and Obi announced they wouldn’t be letting go. His case worker had crouched in front of them, that sweet smile plastered to her lips, and told him that they’d only have to be separated for a night. But he’d known-- the way he always did-- that every word was a lie. His fingers tightened in her grip, narrowing his eyes until the woman shivered, and that was that.

Kerry stayed with them, of course; she’d slept in her office, under a blanket it’s clear she’s never used and had only just discovered wasn’t comfortable no matter how many Sesame Street characters were on it. They’d been tucked under another by a younger girl with trembling hands, her eyes darting between them as she smoothed out its edges. He’d heard them through the walls this morning while the rest of the office filtered in-- government buildings like this were always cutting corners, leaving things like this paper thin, stuff that would go up like tissue in a fire.

Do you think they’re twins? one asked. Trembling hands, he guesses, since her voice does as well, like a chihuahua in a sweater. I’ve heard about this happening with twins. They look and just know.

Can’t be, we have their birth certificates, says another. Kerry, probably; she might be a liar, but she’s one of the only people in this place that has her head screwed on right, too. Two different sets of parents.

And the man they called last night? This one is stern; their manager maybe. He’s not really sure how this all works; he’s not even twelve, and he can only just know so much. Who is he?

There’s a heavy pause. I...I don’t know.

So when he arrives, dressed like an undertaker and holding an umbrella beneath the bright New Mexico sky, the whole place goes quiet. When he walks it’s stiff, like it took a hundred volts to get him up off the table and he’s only just gotten used to the idea. Obi casts a look down at Torou, at where her hand is white knuckled in his, and thinks about how he knows things, and wonders just what she might be able to do.

The man enters, umbrella folding in a single neat motion, before he says. “I am Lata Forenzo. I believe you have my...niblings.”

Niblings, Obi learns, is like siblings, only sideways.

“It was a simplification,” Lata says, his voice a deep, hesitant gravel. He casts a speculative look at the taxi driver, adjusting the gloves on his hands. “Niece and nephew is an unwieldy phrase, and time, after all, is of the essence.”

“Is it?” Torou’s eyes are wide, and for the first time since last night, her hand leaves his, gripping on to the cloth at Lata’s knee. “Is there something after us? Those bugs, they’re not--”

“No.” Obi’s known his uncle for barely more than a half hour, but he knows he isn’t a tactile person. Even still, Lata looks down at Torou, his not-gold eyes somehow softer, and puts two fingers over the bones at the back of her hand. “But it is time to bring you home.”

Home is an island. It takes the whole night to fly in, and when they land the sun is just barely scratching the sky. Even still, there’s no stopping; Lata bundles them straight into a cab, shushing them before they can make much more than a peep.

“We’ll be home soon,” he says, and the next time he wakes them, salt stings Obi’s nose, and he’s being carried over a threshold.

“Are we here?” he slurs. The house is weird-- angular, really, with a hall so narrow he could kick out a leg and stop them up like a cork. He nearly does, just to be cussed, but he catches Torou still wrapped up in her blanket, lolling on the couch, and says instead, “Can you let me down?”

Lata hesitates, fingers stiff where they wrap around his knees and shoulders, but he nods.

Obi’s feet-- just wearing socks now, somehow-- press on the floor, and he knows: he’s home.

“Oh,” he breathes, hands flying out to steady himself. “Oh.”

When he looks up, Torou’s eyes meet his, round and wide. “I felt that.”

Her own feet swing down-- bare-- and the moment she touches the wide old planks--

“Oh.” Lata braces himself against the wall, the sound bitter on his lips. “So it’s true. There will always be two.”

They aren’t his words, Obi knows, but they’re important. They’ve got that feel, the same as when Torou said she dreamed of him. The sort that are going to be life-changing, one way or another.

But Obi’s had enough of that today. Enough of it for a lifetime. He glances over at Torou, and she nods. “Can we go outside?”

Lata blinks, eyes pulling from the wallpaper to fix on him. After a long moment, he says, “You know where the door is.”

Obi does, somehow, and when he opens it--

It’s paradise.

Home has rules too, loads of them. It’s quiet time from nine to eight, though Lata doesn’t much care if they’re sleeping, so long as they’re in bed. Teeth have to be brushed twice a day-- he’d glowered when Obi said he had good teeth and only needed the once, standing over him for a week morning and night to see the rule stuck. There’s only one dessert after dinner; Obi balked at that one, until he’d learned that a limit on quantity wasn’t the same thing as size. He and Torou find three old sundae dishes in the cabinet and pile them high with ice cream and every topping they can find, and when they slap Lata’s down in front of him, cheeks bulging with their own towers of sweets, all he’d does is give them that small, reluctant twitch of a smile and dig in.

They have to make their beds and pick up after themselves-- this house has treated us well, Lata tells them, it’s only right we take care of it in return-- and they have to tell him if they plan to play in the yard; but in return their sheets are always clean, and dinner’s promptly at six. When they come back in, sweaty and exhausted from the summer heat, there’s always a bowl of fruit waiting for them and cold drinks.

He’d known, in the way he always does, that this couldn’t last. So when summer’s heat began to cool, he’s not surprised to see Lata waiting on for them on the veranda, mouth pulled into an even grimmer line.

“It’s time,” he says, “for a Family Meeting.”

“School,” Lata says with the sort of relish and derision only a professor like him can summon up, “is starting. Which means there are new rules.”

Fingers brush at Obi’s, and when he reaches out, Torou’s fingers knit in his. He knows what rules these will be-- his parents had them to, the only ones they’d ever made. His mother had gotten down on her knees the night before kindergarten, nails digging into his shoulders, and used a voice so dark, so unlike her, he’d dreamed of button eyes staring into his for a week. His father had tossed out their Coraline DVD after that.

“Forenzos,” Lata starts, already sounding weary, “look after each other. So you’ll walk together, both ways, and if one of you gets into trouble--” he fixes them both with a stern look-- “I expect both of you to run.”

Obi stares. “What?”

“You’ll come back right after school, unless we have previously discussed plans,” Lata continues. “You’re far too young for...cellular phones, so I expect that if you make plans with friends, you will discuss them with me the night previous, or you will come home first and ask permission. Not,” he murmurs, just barely audible, “that I expect you’ll have much trouble with that.”

“Is that...” Obi’s jaw works. “Is that all?”

“I expect you to keep up your grades.” Lata’s brow furrows, taking them in, as if he’d never once questioned whether or not they would be stellar students. As if most people don’t look at the both of them and see future high school flunk outs. “If they are slipping, I’m afraid I’ll have to limit your free time until we are able to bring them back to an acceptable level. Homework is to be done at the table, and once you are done, your time is yours until dinner.”

Torou’s hand squeezes his. “We?”

Lata blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You said ‘we.’“ She clear her throat, eyelashes fluttering with nerves. “If our grades are bad, you said we would, uh, fix them.”

“Of course.” His mouth pulls at the corners, annoyed. “How could I possibly ask you to rectify such a thing on your own? You’re already doing the best you can, if you still struggle, then it’s clearly something we both-- oh my,” he murmurs mildly, “she’s leaking.”

“Sorry,” she sobs, pink burning on her cheeks, the way it never did on his. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” Lata flails out, yanking a tissue from the box, shoving it into her hand. “I just...hope that you find this all fair. I was always quite good at school, but my sisters--” he glances at them, wary-- “varied. I hope I can only...encourage you to your best.”

“But what about...” Obi snaps his teeth around the words. If he doesn’t ask, then it won’t become a rule, and his uncle can’t be disappointed when he breaks it.

The pictures on the wall prove that they’re family, that Lata truly is his mom’s brother, even if they don’t share much more than a hair color. But Obi’s never seen it, the way he does in pictures of Torou’s mom, where there’s a flick of the hand or a cock of a hip that says they spent their childhood together, inextricably intertwined forever in ways they would never understand.

But Lata raises a brow now, and he sees it, that small thread that ties him to his mom, that says brother. “About...?”

“The other stuff,” Torou blurts out, coughing down a sniff. “He wants to know what we...”

Her words peter out too, like she can’t figure out what to do with them. He can’t stop knowing, and she can’t stop dreaming, and the thought of having to pretend they can is...tiring this time, in a way it never was in the system.

His mouth wraps around the words with a curious sort of wonder. “Other stuff?” 

“You know,” she mutters, so small. “The weird stuff.”

Lata jolts in his chair, spine as straight as a poker. His hands press flat against his knees, and when he looks at them, the gray in his eyes in thunderous.

“This is the most important rule,” he tells them, voice oddly resonant, “you must follow it. Promise me.”

Obi’s heart sinks into his stomach, but he nods, fingers squeezing Torou’s tighter.

Lata’s hand presses heavy on his shoulder, leather flexing over cotton. “Don’t ever hide yourselves. Not for anything. Not for anyone.” Obi dares to look up, and Lata’s gaze is waiting to catch him. “Being...normal is not necessarily a virtue. There is no shame in being who you are, none at all.”

Or what you are, he doesn’t say, but his eyes do, loud and clear. He doesn’t say what that is either, but--

Obi knows. Just like he always does.

And if he didn’t, well-- he would have found out soon enough.

It’s a small island; small enough that K-12 are all squeezed into one school, though Lata tells them that by the time they go to senior high, they might have built another. It’s still not small enough for Torou and him to be in the same class, so he drops her off at the door with promises to find her at lunch and moseys down to his own. It puts him a little behind schedule, the school bell ringing on his heels, and when he steps in--

The room goes silent. Twenty pairs of eyes stare at him, round and wide, not a single person daring to do much more than breathe.

“Forenzo,” the teacher says, faint. “You must be...the Forenzo boy.”

“Yeah.” He grips at his shoulder. “Obi.”

“You can take your seat...at the back,” she says, before hurrying to the board, eager to put her back to him.

“I thought my mom said all the Forenzos died,” a boy whispers as he passes. “Except the old man, of course.”

“No, they just left,” says the one next to them. “Chased out. Because they’re, you know...”

Obi does; he always had, even before he had a word for it.

“I don’t think a boy can be a witch,” a girl says, thoughtless and thoughtful at the same time. “They’re wizards, or something.”

“Warlocks,” scoffs another. “Don’t you know anything? And they do blood magic with little girls--”

Obi grits his teeth, eyes forward. There’s two empty chairs in the back, one in the corner by the window, and the other next to it, and he steers toward that one-- window seats always get him in trouble--

And the boy next to it scoots away, fear bright in his eyes. Obi looks back at the teacher, but she’s writing her name on the board real slow, like she’s hoping this might solve itself.

Fine, he can take a hint. He takes the window, sliding in behind the desk. The girl in front of him scoots forward too, making sure her chair doesn’t touch his desktop, and he sighs. At least they’re all getting this out of the way first.

A bag drops, right next to his seat.

“Ms Kino!” There’s a girl there, smaller than everyone else, though her voice makes her twice as tall. In the morning sun, her hair burns bright like the horizon. “Can I change my seat?”

“Shirayuki?” The teacher blinks back at them, and Obi could swear she breaks into a cold sweat. “Shirayuki, I’m not sure that’s--”

“I can’t see the board from over there,” she says, every syllable digging in its heels. “There’s glare. Because I’m so small.”

Ms Kino squints back at her, and really-- there’s no denying how small she is, at least a head below Obi and he’s nothing to write home about either. “If you’re sure...”

“Great.” She drops into her seat with a thump as loud as thunder, setting out her notebook and pencil with the sort of purposeful efficiency that says there’s no doubt she’s here to stay.

Obi slips his out of his backpack too, so quiet so the other kids will stop looking at him like he’s going to set the place on fire, but he hears, “You’re new, right?”

He looks down, and there’s the girl, smiling across the aisle. “Yeah. I’m--”

“Obi, I heard.” She leans toward him. “I’m--”

“Shirayuki.” His mouth twitches. “I also heard.”

Her smile stretches towards a grin. “You know, Ms Kino likes group projects.”

He blinks. “Does she?”

She nods. “Would you like a partner?”

“She hasn’t assigned one yet,” he says, a little lost.

“She will,” this Shirayuki says, confident. The way he is, when he knows.

He nods, slow. “All right, so for the next one.”

“To start.” She fixes him with a look he can’t get out from under. “Are you eating lunch with someone?”

“Ah, yeah.” He feels guilty about it now, for some reason. “My um. Cousin.”

She brightens. “Great. I’ll show you guys the best place to sit.”

He’s been adopted, he realizes, like the way the cats around the house aren’t. And this girl means to keep him.

For once in his very short life, Obi doesn’t mind knowing. Just like he always does.

[onedivinemisfit]

During my recovery, this has been my biggest project, no kidding. I looked but couldn’t find Obi’s witcher!AU body template so I sketched some Bruxa!yuki designs instead. <w< I’ll finalize and colour them when I’m well, or so I hope, unless I forget XD

Pls forgive any mistakes I’m not 100% yet. ^^; 

Explanations below the cut~

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata Witcher (c) Andrzej Sapkowski TW3 models (c) CDPR Art: Me

Disclaimer: I am not a tailor and as such all my opinions are based on preference and evt pushing rules in my favour XD

The main idea with her wardrobe was to underline that whatever she’s doing, Shirayuki is feminine, and wants to present feminine, hence the skirts and ribbons and embroidery. She’s also a person fond of utility, so belts, pockets, and layers that can be added or removed as she fancied, was also an important facet to add. But she’s also bruxae, monster species, so she’s got a few blind spots, so to speak, regarding what is and isn’t proper to wear in human society. But most of all, her clothes make it easy for her to use her bruxa powers to move around swiftly, silently, and with purpose

Around half of these were referenced from the witcher 3 game, with me picking my favourite garb, and what made more sense for her in different situations. 

1. Huntress Outfit - this one I made myself, using only some of the basic wardrobe notes from tw3. I’ve a softness for overdresses/kaftans with splits, especially if they’re combined with tights/buckskins. Shirayuki is a poor bruxa living in the woods outside a small human settlement, so she doesn’t have access to a tailor other than on market day, or when peddlers arrive, hence she often has to redesign old/too-small clothing for new purposes. Another point was to reinforce her sleeves, to make it easier to brush away branches and undergrowth, and adding the Skelligan waist shawl, a gift from her half-sister, as recurring themes.

2. Winter Outfit - another I made myself, because I was dying to design something that included a sheepskin jerkin. The waist shawl helps redefine the jerkin and give it a feminine twist, and the wrapped sleeves both reduce noise and keeps her cuffs from leaking precious warmth. The wool tunic could have been a dress, but I wanted to focus on showing off her fur-tucked winter boots and knitted long socks. Shirayuki probably knitted them herself.

3. High Summer Outfit - another self-made design. Made so as to underline her non-humanness, borrowing heavily from witcher elven aesthetics, with lots of exposed skin, crossed fabric, and asymmetrical cuts. This is what she wears when the weather *won’t* allow you to dress decently or you get purged by the sun, basically. Again, since Shirayuki’s often short of fabric, a lot of refashioning going on. 

4. Commoner Outfit - A very basic woman’s dress, very presentable, very respectable, especially since Shirayuki is trying to sell the lie that she’s a normal human woman. It’s her go-to outfit for visiting human settlements, or for performing simple chores around the house, such as cooking, sewing, or spinning. Things that keep her in or around her homestead, and not gallivanting in the woods at midnight looking for prey.

5. Relaxing Outfit - merely a dusty day dress pulled over her nightgown, for those chilly nights where Shirayuki doesn’t want to undress for bed until she’s halfway under the covers. When the chores are done and all that’s left to do is sip a cup of blood, read a book beside the hearth and wait for Ryuu to return from his late night wandering, she likes to shed all those layers and relax.

6. Throw-together Outfit - referenced from the game, almost entirely (Keira Metz’ witch model) - save the shoes and headband. After the loss of her home and her more presentable clothing thanks to witcher Obi (who will later admit that yes he does in fact owe her a new dress... and blouse... and apron...) this outfit was assembled through raiding an abandoned witch’s hut. Anything that could suffice as clothing, basically, even the old curtains. Shirayuki doesn’t personally care that some of her *assets* are pretty much on display, but she would like some linen anyway, the cotton does chafe a bit. Aside from the pearl necklace, nothing she’s wearing actually belonged to her in the first place.

7. Formal Commoner Outfit - reffed from the game, (Keira Metz’ second model) the shoes being the sole exception. A dress for special occassions, perhaps May Day, Equinox celebrations, etc. Not that Shirayuki often dared participate in such events, due to the amount of people who show up even in small villages to throw tankards together and dance around bonfires. But she does pilfer the dress from the abandoned witch’s hut anyway, thinking maybe, afterall, since it’s so pretty and it had matching sleeves to go with it... keeping it wasn’t such a dumb idea. 

8. Pants Outfit - reffed from the game (juggler npc) A cross between a traveler and a city dweller, a light-weight yet very elegant outfit for strolling in the human cities. The top is presentable enough that she doesn’t look poor as a pauper, while the pants give the impression of someone on the move, a stranger. It also provides the most comfortable riding experience, the few times she does ride, as she has no need for a lady’s saddle.

9. High-Class Outfit - reffed from the game/one of my favourite tw3 modders, (New Sorceress models by Roksa) I only added the shoes and circlet. When Zen has the dress made for her, it is by FAR the most expensive thing she’s ever worn. Not a single thread of the dress isn’t well-made, the dyes are the brightest and most even-coloured, and the silk is light as a touch on her skin. While the dress itself is a demure, feminine dream, what sets the ensemble apart are the dark cat’s eye gems, just hinting at Shirayuki’s darker secrets. They’re set in gold, for obvious, unspoken reasons, as she reacts to silver much like being set on fire...

10. Evening Outfit - reffed from the game, I just changed the necklace (Ida Eméan’s Gwent card art) another very expensive dress, but surprisingly one that Shirayuki tolerates better. No stiff, itchy velvet, no heavy damask, just sheer silk with gold thread (again for reasons obvious to a bruxa) some simple sleeves, and a chain of stones, no gilded jewellry that could empty a bank vault if sold to the right people. She probably takes a fancy to this dress while attempting to woo a certain witcher, which explains the understated beauty, the most daring of cuts, one that screams “look at me, only me” and the simple-at-a-glance design. Much like Shirayuki herself.

11. Skellige Outfit - inspired by the viking-esque game design for Skellige fashion, this dress is for when Shirayuki and her family stay in the Isles, following her sister’s suggestion. A dress that signifies the matron head of a household with its pewter clasps and apron, follows Skellige fashion demanding you wear a shawl with your clan colors (Shirayuki, although clan-less, was given one by Torou) and layers. And armguards. And a split overdress. To show that this is Shirayuki’s choice wear afterall. 

[nalufever]

Opportunity

Chapter Two of The Night Shift, a collaborative work between myself and @hidetheremote

AnS fandom, Obi x Shirayuki, hopelessly late posting for ‘Trope Madness’ 

One of Obi's faults is that he's gallant, always wanting to help those less fortunate - and some people (Torou) take advantage of his foolish, soft heart. Good thing Shirayuki is always in Obi's corner.

Read Chapter One HERE

Fifteen years ago…..

Garbage whipped by a bitter wind skittered past a cold and shaking Obi. Winter had hit hard, the snow was piling up fast. If he’d had free time and the urge he’d have made a snowman - but he didn’t and couldn’t waste energy on such a frivolous activity. Obi needed to find shelter and he was running out of time.

Tall for his age and thin, most people assumed he was an adult and left him to his own devices. Obi was barely able to feed himself, let alone clothe himself. His jacket was half as old as he was - and badly patched. It didn’t keep him warm from the snow that threatened to freeze his bones as he scrounged for work. Not wanting to burden his few friends with overstaying his welcome, Obi refused to take advantage. He moved from friend's house to friend's house, keeping his secrets close to his chest.

A newspaper carried by the strong wind hit him in the chest with a wet thump, startling Obi into reflexively grabbing it. An article jumped out at Obi, one that mentioned a food kitchen looking for volunteers. It was close - and that was the best news he'd had all day.

The first person to greet Obi was a short but bouncy, red-headed sprite of a girl. “Hi! I’m Shirayuki, what’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Manners are very important!”

The young girl pouted and Obi couldn’t help but tease. “On second thought, you’re right. Manners are what separate humans from animals, Miss. Please accept my apologies for my lack of priorities. My name is Obi.”

Shirayuki smiled and Obi’s worries and fears started fading. He’d have a hot meal and maybe start to rebuild his life; this girl was beaming at him so brightly he felt invincible - his guiding star had to be on the rise. Obi accepted a tray from the girl and portions of everything available, waving goodbye to the little Miss and then searching for a good spot to sit and eat.

In the far corner away from the door (which every time it opened sent more cold snow and air swirling into the room), Obi sat with his back to the wall at a table with another girl of roughly his own age - also with her back to the wall. Intent on feeding himself, Obi tore open the bun and slathered butter on it, ripping a big portion off with his first bite. He chewed and did his best to keep his appreciative moans and smacking lips to a minimum.

“Oi! Keep it down!”

“Sorry-not-sorry.” Obi shoved a giant spoonful of stew into his mouth and turned his head to look with suspicion at his table mate. “Mrff sppr anfry.”

“Gross. You always talk with your mouth full?”

Obi swallowed and sighed at the girl. “I’m super hungry.”

“Nice to meet you, ‘super hungry,’ I’m Torou.” The girl - Torou - flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder and batted her matching brown eyes at Obi coquettishly. “First time in a place like this?”

“Is it that obvious?” Obi sat more upright and pretended to not be guarding his food. “I’ve been doing alright for the most part. I don’t like to have to accept help, but I-I’m having a hard time.”

“We all are, every person here has it tough.” Torou pulled out another bun from her pocket and a couple more packets of butter, pushing them at the thin but cute teen. “What about a real name?”

“Ugh, yeah - sorry. You can call me Nanaki.” Obi crammed the rest of his bun into his mouth, grabbing the offered bread to shove it into a pocket for later. He chewed and swallowed. “Thanks, Torou, I haven’t eaten since…I’m not sure.”

“I could tell.” She giggled, twirling strands of her hair around one finger, leaning closer. “Well, maybe we can help each other.”

“You got more food in your pockets? Don’t you want to eat that?”

“Silly boy, I’m talking about taking opportunities and turning them into cash.”

><><><><><

Present day….

Obi checked his phone and again Torou had texted him, begging for one more chance. Enough was enough. He’d done lots of stupid things when he’d been young and homeless - and now Obi was poised to finally have a date with Shirayuki. There was no way in hell he wanted to screw his chances.

He sighed, about to shut off his phone, but it chimed - this time a phone call from Torou. Voice pitched low and aggravated, Obi growled, “What do you want?” The hallway was too full of distractions so Obi sped to the stairwell and slumped against the far wall.

“I still want what I was asking from you at the Greenhouse.” She was clearly amused. “I’m gonna keep working on you until you cave. One little, tiny favour is all I ask - you could do it in your sleep!”

“Maybe fifteen years ago, but I’ve changed - and I thought you had too.”

“What’s that old saying? A leopard doesn’t change its spots?” Torou’s laugh was high and shrill. “I’ve shed some of my spots - but there’s one big one that just won’t budge. Tomi won’t let me escape so easily.”

“Tomi, still?” Ire and disgust coloured Obi’s tone.

“Don’t say it like that, I gave up most of that when he got sent away.” Torou’s voice got thin and small, in direct contrast to how she’d laughed only seconds ago. “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice.”

“Ugh… Dammit.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“I’m not saying yes, but it looks like I can’t say no.” Obi rubbed his forehead. “My shift is pretty well over. Where are you?”

“I’ll text you the address. And Obi...don't end up like me.”

Obi heard Torou sniff and end the connection. Stomach roiling with old fears, new doubts and a fair amount of anger for Tomi, Obi shoved his phone into his pocket and made tracks for the parking lot.

><><><><><

“Pssst!” Torou yanked Obi’s arm as he walked past where she’d been lurking. “Come here often?”

Obi grimaced, turning to face Torou as she started giggling. He growled, “I didn’t come here for my health or any of your lame jokes. Why don’t you come with me and we can discuss your problems in my car? It’s too cold out in the open.”

“Didn’t know you wanted to get cozy.” Torou batted her eyelashes and licked her lips. “Giving up on Shirayuki? ‘Bout time.” She held onto his shoulders, almost leaning against him.

“As if. Your antics leave me even colder than the weather.” Obi shrugged away from Torou.

“Spoilsport.”

“Yeah, well -”

Torou’s phone chirped and she shushed Obi to look at the message she’d been sent. The blood drained from her face and she gasped, shivering, absently rubbing her gut. All her previous flirtatiousness behaviour died. “The job is a go - right now.”

Obi watched Torou shrink in on herself. As much as he didn’t want to assist her - he felt obligated. He’d never seen her so distraught before, not even when she’d been threatened with juvie. “And never again.”

“Sure, sure.” Torou pulled herself together, turning back into a capable thief in the space of a heartbeat. “Joint’s been cased thorough, I need you to get me inside, my talent will crack open the safe.”

“Fine, I open the door and leave.”

“Not so fast, two heads are better than one, right? I could use an extra set of eyes and ears - just in case.”

“Sounds like it hasn’t been cased proper.” Obi folded his arms and glared. “You need me to help search for the safe, don’t you?”

“Tomi stops digging once he sees what he wants.” Torou shrugged, jamming her hands into her pockets. “Especially if he can send someone else to do the real work.”

“Fucking unbelievable.”

“I promise, never again.” Torou gave a subtle head nod to the garish green house on the corner. “C’mon, time’s a wasting!”

><><><><><

It was regretfully easy for Obi to bypass the electronic locks on the back patio door; fifteen years hiatus on his break and enter skills hadn’t been enough to set any rust on them. Dammit. One more careful motion and the physical lock popped open. Obi slid the door open and motioned to Torou. “Hurry.”

“Don’t get your panties in a knot.” She blew on her gloved fingers. “We both search - upstairs first - there’s only three bedrooms on that floor. Behind big ugly paintings first and closets second.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“You’re cute when you’re angry.” Torou blew Obi a kiss before tiptoeing down the hall and running up the stairs, knowing her unwilling partner would soon follow once he explored the main floor. His habits were part of his charm.

Obi scowled as he stalked through the house, finding nothing out of the ordinary - it was well maintained and decorated nicely - if a bit old-fashioned. He shuddered - lots of big floral patterns and an excessive amount of plaid where they’d run out of room for roses. There was a wood burning fireplace too - currently unused - flanked by an antique set of wrought iron tools.

Obi met Torou leaving the bedroom closest to the stairs; she shook her head. “A kid’s room. It’s gotta be the second or the master bedroom.”

“You take the master then, most likely it’s not the second - but I’ll check it out.”

“Okay.” Torou gave Obi a mock salute. “You haven’t missed a trick even after all these years.”

“But I’d like to,” he muttered, “forget all about this and the dumb stuff you pulled me into.”

“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Torou taunted Obi with a wink and another blown kiss.

“That’s only if Tomi didn't steal them first.” Obi rubbed his forehead and walked towards the second bedroom, slipping inside. Nothing on these walls except more giant, ugly, cabbage roses on the wallpaper. Ugh! So old-fashioned. Was this the house of a grandma from the 1950’s? The closet door was in contrast overly new looking - and the right size for a custom walk-in. Could be the safe was here instead of in the master.

Only one way to find out - Obi drew open the closet door and did his best to staunch a horrified gasp. No safe, but lots and lots of adult...gear. Whips, chains, what had to be porn magazines, several squirt bottles of lube and items he thankfully could not easily identify. He shook his head and shuddered. Fucking hell.

Suddenly aware he’d zoned out, standing in front of what could fully stock an orgy, Obi made to shut the Pandora’s box of porn - but a heavy tread stumping up the stairs made his flesh crawl and his blood chill. Too late to run to warn Torou… A split second later, Obi made up his mind and jumped into the closet, sending a frantic text to Torou. <>

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He anxiously watched his phone, expecting Torou to text him back - but no answer. Shit. Was the homeowner bludgeoning Torou as he cowered amongst the pleather outfits and massive battery driven toys? Shit. Obi held his breath - the carefree, loud footsteps were getting louder. His stomach plummeted. Somebody wanted a little something-something before getting some sleep.

Shit. Fuck. Damn. Obi secured his phone and waited in the farthest corner of the closet, poised to take action. The door was yanked open and a hand rummaged inside - through long familiarity no doubt - reaching with unerring grace for the flesh pocket - and shut the door. Obi slumped backward in relief. Thank all the unholy sex gods and goddesses.

Shit - now did he try to save Torou from the horny homeowner or escape? Shit. Fuck. Damn. Obi strained his ears - nothing. No horrid buzz of an adult toy - no heavy footsteps - no screams. He said a little prayer and pushed the closet door open the smallest amount he could to see out of - and about felt his soul leave his body.

The horny homeowner was sitting on the spare bed looking through his mail - the waiting lurid plastic lips of the fleshlight leering at Obi. Jesus, lord love a duck. At least the guy's head was bowed and he’d missed seeing a surprise visitor pop out of his closet. Obi didn’t know what to hope for - the horny guy going to town on himself, or sudden merciful death.

Torou texted Obi. <>

Several things happened at once. Obi’s phone signalled itself with a snippet of Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance, horny homeowner bolted off his bed, still holding his mail, looking around wildly. “What the fuck!”

Shit. Fuck. Damn. Obi yanked his balaclava down to obscure his face, blindly taking the closest item to hand and bolted out of the closet. Fast, so fast - sprinting like the wind - but the horny homeowner managed to tackle Obi. Obi felt a sharp, burning pinch and then he twisted, bucking off the guy who was screaming bloody blue murder. Slamming the door behind himself, Obi used the bullwhip he'd grabbed, jamming it like a doorstop to keep the irate man a little occupied while they escaped.

“Go, go, go!” Obi ran past Torou who was cradling her ill-gotten goods in a nondescript gym bag.

“I’m going!” Torou hissed. “New much?”

“Never again!” Adrenalin kept Obi and Torou running outside into the bare glimmer of dawn - Obi towards his car and Torou - she jumped into a waiting white van that zoomed off before she’d even fully landed in the passenger seat. Fuck. Shit. Damn. Obi ran into the semi cover of a bush - slowed his headlong rush into an ambling power walk and uncovered his face. Nothing said ‘up to no good’ like a balaclava pulled down on a guy fleeing in the dark. He’d fucked up but he could repent at leisure once he was safe.

Obi hustled down the alley to his car, unlocking it, smiling at the cheerful chirp and slid inside behind the wheel. His back spasmed - fire erupted in his nerves. What the fuck? He felt his back as best he could, fingers coming away sticky - with something god-damned familiar.

><><><><

“Gimme a damn minute!” Shirayuki pulled on her bathrobe and belted it tight - the idiot pounding on her door was obviously drunk - and she’d have to kick his ass to curb without her pajamas. Barefoot, she stomped over to her front door, quickly checking that her door was on the chain. “What the hell is wrong with you? Some people are trying to-” she yanked open the door as much as the safety chain allowed, her angry tirade dying as she met Obi’s glazed eyes in his pale face.

“Mostly, what’s wrong with me, is I’ve been stabbed.” Obi gurgled a listless chuckle and collapsed.

[baba-wolf]

Why ObiYuki > ZenYuki

First of all,this is just my opinion and this rambling will contain spoilers! So now that I have cleared this, let’s get to it cuz this is gonna be LONG

I don’t hate ZenYuki. It’s a decent pairing, they have cute moments and stuff and at first it was my main ship in AnS. But then came ObiYuki and at first I didn’t think any of it. But then chapters came out and as the manga goes forward I feel like there isn’t any contest between obiyuki and zenyuki for me.

I finished rereading the whole manga about a week ago. And my first point about zenyuki is going to be it’s start. That damn kiss. I hate it.

Zen kissed Shirayuki without permission, without confession without anything. Hell, Zen even says he did it without her consent! And if Shirayuki was so in love with Zen and stuff imo, she wouldn’t have reacted the way she did. She was startled, embarrassed, confused etc. And she seeks protection from Obi! 

On that day, she could have rode back with Kiki, Mitsuhide or even Zen if she asked. No, she chose Obi. He was neutral, she felt the safest with him out of all people. Which is huge! And then the almost hand touch. In this chapter so far Shirayuki is stressed cuz of the kiss, then we see she rode with Obi back, he tries to get info out of her what happened, Zen is on prince business and then Obi almost holds Shirayuki’s hand. After the kiss between the male characters Obi a side character gets a moment like this. And then Zen appears, Shirayuki hides behind Obi! She seeks comfort and protection from him. And he understands and helps her. After ZenYuki did that bad kiss we have moments like these with ObiYuki. So yeah, ObiYuki > ZenYuki for me

Little later we have the Tanbarun arc. Which is for me mainly ObiYuki. For me Zen being a prince is bad for ZenYuki. Say what you want but many times Shirayuki has faced prejudice for her connection with Zen, she has to deal with Izana’s mind games which make her uncomfortable, she has to “behave properly” like dance classes and stuff. It’s stress, getting into royal enviroment as just a normal person and living with these things. 

So Shirayuki is sent to Tanbarun and even if Zen wants to go with her he can’t. Obi senses the distress and has his own feelings growing too, so he and Zen have a duel. 

Obi has nothing holding him back. No royal title, nothing. This line does it for me and I don’t think it only stands for the coming arc. Obi will always protect Shirayuki in Zen’s place. If something were to come up like a royal arranged marriage or they were to break up Zen can always count on Obi being by Shirayuki’s side. This is a lifelong promise from Obi.

Then in chapter 20 we have Shirayuki thanking Obi for coming with her to Tanbarun, Mitsuhide picking up that maybe Obi has developed new feelings, Obi complimenting Shirayuki in her dress, her wearing the hair ornament that she got as a present, adjointing rooms scene. You know, lots of stuff for a non canon pairing in just one chapter.

And this arc is just full of important moments like the library scene, the balcony scene. Obi and Shirayuki are together in Tanbarun and the author is just throwing romantic moments at us. If I didn’t know about Zen then ObiYuki sure would look like the main couple. And there wasn’t a confession or a kiss.

Then Shirayuki gets kidnapped and Obi is nuts. He shows a dark side of him. He is really angry, dangerous and has a dark aura around him almost all of the remaining arc. Even when Zen and the others show up and he puts his mask back up you can still see he is tense. He is really affected by the kidnapping and not just cuz this was his duty. He made a promise and on the first chance where he is guarding Shirayuki this mess happens.

And at the end of the arc, we have Shirayuki and Obi talk after she is saved. Obi feels like a failure, he is sad, he won’t listen to her apologies. But Shirayuki still trusts Obi. She wants to go to Tanbarun, her special homeland, with him and this means so much to Obi. It throws him off that someone puts so much faith into him and shows so much kindness towards him after experiencing being kidnapped.

Obi never really got attached to people. In one of the coming chapters Torou who known him in the past mentions this too. Obi was always moving, never staying in one place long. I think that’s why he doesn’t really use names. If he did, it would make things more personal.

But here he is so overwhelmed with affection that he almost says her name. This moment means a lot, I think this is the hight of the whole arc. Throwing Shirayuki and Obi together, showing how they click in their time, how other characters pick up on it, how Obi starts to realize things after the balcony, how he fails and yet how Shirayuki still accepts him and doesn’t push him away. For me this arc was the birth of ObiYuki.

And of course there isn’t a better way to end this beautiful arc with a not so pretty ZenYuki kiss. After witnessing obiyuki sweetness, Zen kisses a sleeping, unconscious girl. Shirayuki may be strong but the events got to her. And here we have Zen, whose first kiss was without consent, again kissing a sleeping Shirayuki. Just no. If he kissed her on the forehead or something it would have worked but for me this way it just deals damage to the pairing.

After the Tanbarun arc comes the Lyrias arc. We get new characters, a new main place in the manga. Jumping a bit forward, a sickness breaks out. And when Obi and Zen appear, who gets to stay and help Shirayuki? No, not the main love interest, the prince charming. It’s Obi who also flirst with Shirayuki in front of Zen and Izana. Real smooth.

After Zen leaving because of his duty and Obi staying with Shirayuki this arc like the last one shows obiyuki together, how they solve the case. Zen is out of the picture, Obi is in the middle of it. The manga isn’t even trying to hide obiyuki. They spend time together, go through this hardship together, work together and understand each other more.

Here Shirayuki saw through Obi’s act. She is touched by his kindness. The way they look at each other is just precious. From Obi okay, but from Shirayuki who is already head over heels in love with Zen I think it means a lot.

After the Lyrias arc we get smaller moments but still important ones. The one in chapter 47 where Obi lightly touches Shirayuki’s hand to support her, Obi finding her after she fell asleep with a fever, waking Obi up, cooking together. Just small moments so we don’t forget that Shirayuki is together with Zen and she doesn’t have a growing other relationship...

Chapter 57-58 are killers. Till these chapters nothing was confirmed. We could, hardly but still, pass these things off as platonic things. Close friendship. But then Shirayuki is sent to Lyrias for 2 years and everyone is shaken a bit. Everyone gets a hug, we get an obiyuki hug and foreshadowing.

This is more important than the hug! Why? Cuz Shirayuki says smiling that she thinks Obi will follow her, that he will be there with her. Not Zen, but Obi who she has spent more time with. Obi is always there with her, watching her. Shirayuki feels that if she goes somewhere Obi will be beside her. This is really beautiful and Obi is surprised too. And luckily, they will meet up in Lyrias a few chapters later.

But not before this.

This is the point where I went to heaven. His smile, his confession are just so beautiful. He admits it to Zen that he likes the girl that his master loves. And that he didn’t want to go be with her for 2 years without Zen knowing his feelings. That’s what I call being fair and honest. Obi respects Zen and his relationship with Shirayuki, he doesn’t want bad feelings between him and Zen. Obi is just too good for this world.

The moment Shirayuki sees Obi her face lits up and she blushes. What she said came true and she feels happy to have Obi by her side.

And chapter 62 is just gold. They talk and Obi asks if it’s okay for him to stay with her. And he is nervous too you can see it. But Shirayuki just says of course and her expression surprises Obi. No wonder.

Try to convince me that this is just meant for a friend. If you say that Shirayuki doesn’t love Obi like she does Zen I can accept that. At this point. But her feelings are growing, her relatopnship developes with Obi. And nobody can deny that.

After chapter 62 it’s mostly adventure time. For me the next big moment is the silent goodbye that they have in chapter 80.

No words are said or needed. They have built a connection. Obi looks back at her and Shirayuki looks strong. She isn’t teary eyed or anything. She is worried sure but her eyes say she expects him to return to her. She from past experiences knows and feels that Obi will come back to her side.

Their reunion will come in chapter 88 which sadly I couldn’t find yet, just the spoilers. But in the spoilers Shirayuki has a warm smile and says welcome back and she meets him first before Zen.

The conclusion.

In my opinion ObiYuki has more development than ZenYuki. Obi and Shirayuki started as strangers then became friends and are growing stronger together while supporting each other. For me zenyuki is still the same charming princes common girl crush on each other. Many times Obi stands by Shirayuki’s side cuz Zen can’t because of his social status. And thinking about it, does Shirayuki want a royal life? If she marries Zen she will be expected a different behaviour, she will have to adjust to a whole different lifestyle. What she has now, working in Lyrias suits her much more than dancing and balls and such. We have seen she can’t dance, doesn’t know sometimes how to properly behave with other nobles and such. I think a royal lifestyle would burden her more than would help her.

I think Shirayuki’s first love is Zen, but that doesn’t mean she can’t fall deeper for someone else. Being liked by a prince as your first time experiencing love is unique and thrilling. But I think what she has is a crush. Despite wanting to be by Zen’s side she spends more time with Obi. I think she is more free with Obi. You see their development in the manga while I can’t really name a big change for Zenyuki. He loves her, she blushes they kiss that’s all. That’s first love. But not the one. Obiyuki feels more developed, natural, comfortable, relatable. The manga puts them together a lot maybe that’s why. But why if they are not the main couple? For bait or for something more? No matter the ending, ObiYuki will be always special for me, more than ZenYuki. Obi and Shirayuki built an amazing relationship no matter the outcame and I will always smile when I see these two dorks together.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

How about "I'm not stalking you, exactly. It's just that you accidentally put my notebook in your bag and I'm waiting for a good moment to steal it back before you see the doodles/writing of you I did in it" Obiyuki AU?

Obi jerks his pen from napkin just in time to avoid gouging it through when Torou jostles him, nosing her way over his shoulder.

“Whacha doin there, buddy?”

He sighs, eyes towards the ceiling for guidance, but of course she isn’t looking. She’s snatching the doodle up and holding it towards a better spot of light.

“Oooh,” Torou gushes, looking down the bar at an elderly woman with a tight perm and thick makeup. She’s paying neither one of them mind, her attention glued to the TV monitor up on the wall. “He’s doing a really nice one for you, Josie!”

Josie taps her cigarette against the ashtray without looking down. “I believe it. All his drawings are good.”

Obi plucks the napkin out of Torou’s hands, ears hot. She smacks her gum and grins at him. “Don’t you think he should try to sell his stuff at a first Saturday or something?”

“I tell him that every day.” In his head, Obi groans. “Keeps telling me he needs to practice but he doesn’t have the time.”

“I don’t,” he claps back, coming over and sliding the napkin across the bar. “And paints are expensive. And toxic. And may I remind you both that I have a two year old.”

Josie finally looks down from the screen. “You should get rid of those wrinkles,” she complains.

“Now why would I hide all that beauty?” Obi grins, leaning in.

Her eyes flicker up to his. “Flatterer,” she admonishes, but he knows if her make up was any lighter, he’d be able to see a blush. She taps one cherry red nail against the edge of the napkin. “I should really ask you to draw my granddaughter one day.”

Obi grins. “Bring me a picture. I’d be glad to.”

“Why don’t I introduce the two of you instead?”

His face falls. “I’m sure she has a lot to do. Too busy for my schedule.”

Josie reaches across the way, giving his hand one solid pat. “You’re a good kid, Obi. When are you going to find yourself a nice girl to take care of you?”

Obi clears his throat. “Ah, well, you know-”

“He has one!” Torou chimes in, and honestly- death would be a mercy. “Sorta.”

Invisible eyebrows reach towards the ceiling, and Josie gives him a look. “Sorta?”

“We’re not- she’s not my girlfriend,” he sputters. “She’s my neighbor and she watches Aki a lot and-”

“And she spent Christmas with him!” Torou adds, oh so helpful.

“Oh my,” Josie lifts her drink, smacking her lips. “In my day, that was some serious business, son.”

Obi waves his hands, sweat prickling his temples. “Oh no. Things are different now. There’s nothing-“

“You should draw something for her,” she interrupts, gesturing with her drink. “Then make a copy of it so we can see her. I want to know if she’s fine enough for you.”

“She’s very pretty,” Torou confirms.

His head snaps towards her. “You haven’t even seen her!”

“Have too!” Torou shrugs. “From across the street.”

“You were spying on us?”

Torou pouts. “You texted me to wait in the car. So I, with nothing better to do than watch the door, waited in the car. I honestly don’t see what the big deal is.”

“I don’t need you embarrassing me,” he grumbles.

“Me?” she gasps, palm pressed to chest. “When have I ever done such a thing?”

He glares at her. “Now doesn’t count?”

Her grin grows. “Josie started it. I am putting her worries to rest.”

“Just keep it wrapped up this time, will ya?” Josie comments, eyes back on the tube. “Don’t need a repeat of last time until you’re both ready.”

Obi feels his whole face go hot. “I’m going to go clean the back.”

Torou’s cackle follow him to the kitchen.

~ ~ ~

It’s that point between the dead of night and the crack of dawn when he comes home, the song of the earliest morning birds interrupted by the roar and scream of garbage trucks. 

He slowly cracks open the door, taking in the mess of toys littering the floor, the glow of the TV still stuck on cartoon network barely audible in the background, Yuki’s papers and books spread out across the couch, and then Yuki herself, passed out on his recliner. Her eyes are rimmed with deep bruises, jaw slack, and she doesn’t even twitch when he closes the door behind him.

The runt is drooling all over her chest.

A pinch of guilt twists his gut. Aki must have been a real gentleman after he left.

Grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, he tip toes his way over the boobytraps left all over the floor, fanning it on top of both of them. Adjusting the cover so it goes all the way up to the neck, he runs his hand once over Aki’s warm scalp, brushing hair away from his face - the boy would need a haircut soon, definitely. He wrinkles his nose, itching it against Yuki’s shirt before settling once again.

Laughing softly, his eyes flicker up to share a secret smile with Yuki. She is still sleeping and her face - it is much closer than he originally thought.

He pulls away, squashing down the jolt of his heart before it could put down another root. It was dangerous, too dangerous, and she had her whole life and a career ahead of her, besides. 

Running his hand through his hair, he pulls out his phone and heads towards the bathroom. 9am should be early enough to wake her up so she can get to class on time.

“Obi?”

Her voice is so soft in the way it wraps around him and he comes up short, glancing back over his shoulder. Yuki’s eyes are still closed.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I can take Aki now if you wanted to get up?”

A sleepy smile curves her lips. “No,” she shakes her head. “Leave him. I just wanted to make sure you made it home safe.”

He swallows hard.

“Aki made something for you.” Under the blanket, she gestures with her hand. “I think we left it in the kitchen.”

He glances across the way, to the kitchen table that is just as much of a mess as the rest of the apartment, scattered with broken crayons, one of his old sketchbooks, torn paper, and half empty cups.

In the middle of it all, on top of the crumpled pile, one only slightly mashed drawing of bright colors and random shapes lays, offering itself up like recently unearthed Pollock. Obi smiles, lifting it up, and glances back towards the recliner.

Yuki’s chest rises and falls in the slow, steady rhythm of those lost to sleep, lips parted and hair fanned over his chair like a sunset. The first rays of morning light slip through the blinds, washing them both in gold.

His fingers itch.

He looks back at Aki’s drawing.

~~~

“Oh my God. Aki, no!”

Obi jerks awake just as a blur of blanket stumbles off of the recliner, barely missing sharp plastic toys it crashes to the ground.

It takes him a minute, crusty eyes blinking into the bright sunlight, but the blanket is on the move, crawling across the floor towards a screaming banshee accompanied by devilish songs with an incessant upbeat tune playing behind it.

Wait, what?

“Let me have that,” the blanket says, prying something from the banshee’s clutches and just that alone is enough to snap him awake.

Oh no. Oh noooo.

“How bad is it?” he croaks, unwinding his legs out from other him.

Yuki’s kneeling, head bowed and hair covering her face. Aki is trying to slip the phone back out of her grasp and she lets out a great and mighty sigh of defeat. “It’s locked for the next 523 years.”

Obi groans, head thudding against the cushion. He rubs his face. “Another trip to the Apple Store. Joy.”

She sighs, standing up, and hands him the phone. “Sorry about the mess. I tried everything last night to get him to settle and–”

Obi takes it from her, blanching when he sees the screen. He checks the wall clock to confirm. “Yuki,” he breathes. “Don’t you have to be in class in 30 minutes?”

He looks up at her just in time to see the blood drain from her face. She snatches the phone back and stares at the screen. “Oh. Oh no.” She looks at her papers scattered all over the couch. “Oh no, I have a test today!”

He’s up, gathering her papers and books. “Go change!” he says, tapping everything into neat piles. “Do you need a ride? Wait. No. Shit. My car is still in the shop. Should I call an Uber?”

She’s already halfway to the door. “Not if I am out the door in the next seven minutes.”

She must set some sort of record for quick change, because when he sees her next, she’s charging down the hall from her apartment with a freshly scrubbed face, clean clothes, and her hair up in a messy bun. He holds up her backpack and she finishes shrugging her jacket on.

“Thanks,” she breathes, taking it and sailing past him. “I’ll see you later.”

“Good luck!” he calls behind her, the door slamming in her wake.

~ ~ ~

It’s five minutes after she leaves that he finds his graphite pencils between the seat cushion.

Ten minutes before he realizes that his sketchbook is nowhere to be found.

And thirty minutes before he collapses on the floor of his living room, face planted into the couch cushions. 

“Fuck me.”

~ ~ ~

The knock on the door comes earlier than expected.

Obi’s hands freeze in soapy water, heart and breath caught in his throat. 

When the knock comes again, Aki turns from his toys. “Dada,” he points Foxy towards the sound. “Dada, door.”

Obi swallows with a hard thunk. “Thanks, buddy,” he says, toweling off his wet hands.

He crosses the room like a man heading towards his death sentence, takes a breath, and throws open the door.

Shirayuki’s face is flushed red, hands tucked behind her back. Green peeks up at him underneath a fan of long, orange lashes, and-

Ah, fuck.

“Hi.”

She shifts, and even the tip of her nose is red. “Hi.”

“How did the exam go? Did you make it on time?”

She nods once, sharp. “Oh, um, yea. There were two or three questions that I wasn’t sure about, but, um…”

Her voice trails off to silence. Obi decides to get it over with.

“I accidentally packed my sketchbook in your bag.”

Yuki’s blush is so deep that it’s almost purple.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Obi blurts. “I used to draw in highschool and I still do sometimes. It gets me extra tips at the bar, but one of my regulars was telling me that I should draw more and I didn’t mean to make anything weird or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s just that I came home and you and Aki were asleep and the light was perfect and-”

She holds up one hand, a startled laugh wheezing out of her. “No, no,” she shakes her head. “I should have stopped looking when I realized it was your sketchbook!”

“Don’t apologize,” he breathes. “It was my fault and if you feel like I’ve betrayed your trust or something-”

Shirayuki’s eyes go wide. “Oh, Obi, no!” she says, pulling her other arm out from around her back and- there it was. The yellow covered pad that he spent the better part of his day hoping that he put on a high shelf somewhere. “It was nice. I liked them.”

Obi’s eyes snap from the pad to her face. “Really?”

“I don’t really do art, but you’re really good,” she professes, and then- she wrinkles her nose. “Although… my ears don’t look like that.”

Obi laughs, a tense sharp bark of sound. “Ears are hard,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Can I have it?”

His face turns hot, disbelieving. “I, um- Do you want it?”

“Mm!” She nods emphatically, although her smile is sly. “Is there an artist fee? I feel like I should pay you.”

“I do it for the exposure,” he jokes weakly.

Shirayuki laughs, a clear bright sound, and oh- this could have gone terribly. He’s so glad it hasn’t. “You should be paid for your work, Obi.”

His heart squeezes. “Do you have any idea of what I should charge?”

She taps her finger on her chin, lips pursed like she does when she is pouring over one of her textbooks. “I can think of something,” she says, eyes tilting shyly. “I’m just not sure if you would like it.”

As if anything she could give him would be less than perfect. “Try me.”

She swallows, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. “Okay,” she laughs aarily, looking down the hall one way, then another. “Come here.”

Obi frowns, taking one step into the hall, keeping his foot between the door jam. “Here?”

“No, um, I mean yes,” she brushes her hair behind her ear. “But I need you to lean down.”

He does as she asks, lashes fluttering and nerves closing off his throat. “Here?”

Her lips twitch, free hand coming up to lace through his hair and pull him down farther.

“Here,” she breathes, closing the space between them.

The touch of her mouth against his is soft, charged with the pop of static and they jump back, startled. Her eyes are wide honestly- she looks more surprised than him, and then they soften, leaning back in.

This time, electricity doesn’t snap between them. This time his eyes fall shut when her mouth falls upon his, breath pouring out of his lungs in one long rush. Her lips are soft. And sweet. And lemon flavored. They shoot sparks down his spine, through his blood, and he tilts his head, fingers alighting upon her cheek.

She hums against his mouth and he can’t help but smile against hers.

Josie was going to be intolerable.

She pulls back, nails dragging against his scalp before smoothing down his hair. “Do you think that was fair payment?” she asks quietly, her eyes searching his.

Obi swallows, his throat dry. “I think I may double my fee.”

Shirayuki smiles and it is so beautiful. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“I learned from the best.”

She pulls him back down.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Someplace Like Home

The knock on his door is louder than he expected.

Earlier, too. 

Obi pushes himself up on his knees with a frown, toys gathered up in his arms. Something had to be wrong.

He tosses the toys in the bin with a rattle and a squeak, groaning as he lifts himself up from the floor. Aki giggles, banging happily at the noisemakers and bright lights of his bouncer. He makes a face at the munchin as he crosses the room, which just makes Aki giggle more. 

He blows a raspberry at him before turning back and glancing through the peephole. His grin falters.

Yuki.

Something was definitely wrong.

But when he opens his door, she squeals, charging through it and wrapping him in a hug filled with so much force it spins them.

“Woah!” he laughs, pulling back her beanie so he can sees her flushed and happy face. “What’s the good news?”

Paper crinkles as she shoves a torn envelope under his nose. “I got in!”

He blinks at her. He thought she was already in school. “To where?”

She’s trembling with excitement, grin threatening to split her face. “To Lyrias’s nursing program! I got into their prenatal program!”

He doesn’t know what any of that means. “Congratulations!” he says, arms awkwardly disengaging from hers. “Does that mean your community college days are numbered?”

She nods emphatically. “Yes! I’ll have my associates at the end of the semester and I’ll be starting up there in the Fall!” 

HIs heart swells with pride even though he has absolutely nothing to do with any of this. “I’m proud of you, Yuki.”

Shirayuki looks up at him, startled, and her eyes have a tell tale shimmer to them that immediately threatens to send him into panic mode.

“Thank you,” she breathes, wiping her eyes with the back of her mittens. She sniffs, looking over at Aki. “This is like a dream. LHSU has one of the best nursing programs in the country.”

Obi glances over at the clock and clicks his tongue. Shift starts in an hour and a half. Just enough time if he needs it. “Do you want to call your folks?” he asks. “Go out to celebrate? I can call and ask Torou if she can watch him tonight.”

“Oh.” Shirayuki ducks her head a little, and there’s something to that single syllable that sounds off, but her eyes avoid his now so he can’t be certain. She pushes her hair behind her ear and her smile is strained. “I guess I never told you. There’s, um- there’s nobody.”

Obi stares at her, confused. Surely, a girl as sweet as her has somebody-

She pushes back against her bangs to look him in the eye, but only succeeds in making them staticy and fluffy across her face. “My family is gone.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Maybe apologize, but for what?

“I just... wanted to tell someone,” she smiles, gesturing with the envelope. “That’s all.”

~ ~ ~

They don’t bring it up again when he comes dragging home at dawn. The click of the door rouses her enough for her to mumble a good morning.

“Did he give you any problems?” he whispers, watching her roll off the couch.

She shakes her head numbly, haphazardly folding the throw and tossing it over the back of the couch. “Not really. He woke up once because he lost his bink, but then he found it right next to his head and went straight back to sleep.”

He laughs softly and she yawns, mouth wide and round like a kitten's.

“You should go to bed,” he says quietly. “Your place has got to be more comfortable than that lumpy couch. Maybe next time, I’ll bring Aki over.”

She smiles sleepily at him, shuffling towards the door. “No, no. It’s okay. All of his stuff is here. And I like it over here anyway.”

Something in his chest warms unexpectedly.

“But!” she grins, grabbing her coat. “I will take your advice and crawl into my own bed. I’ve got a few more hours of shut eye waiting for me before I need to be in class.”

He smiles, watching her walk to the door. He should probably say something about earlier-

Aki whines from the other room and Obi sighs dramatically, waving her off.

“Goodnight, Yuki.”

She giggles, seeing herself out. “Goodnight, Obi.”

-but he guesses that something will have to come later.

~ ~ ~

Later never comes.

Well, not exactly.

It’s weeks later when he stumbles home, drunk on lack of sleep and Aki on his hip that he finds a little tin on his doormat. Frowning, he kneels down to pick it up and finds looping scrawl wishing the both of them Happy Thanksgiving across the top. It’s not signed, but he knows who it is from anyway.

The tin is faintly warm and smells of cinnamon and sugar.

Glancing down the hallway, he looks fondly at the cheery little cartoon turkey dangling from the wreath on her front door.

~ ~ ~

Even though he sees her nearly every day, either passing in the hallway or talking quietly while Aki naps in the other room, it takes him a few more weeks to work up the nerve.

Hands shoved in his pockets, Obi rocks back and forth on his heels outside her apartment door. 

This was stupid. It wasn’t like she would laugh at him, and so what if she did? She had a beautiful laugh. And if he wanted to hear it again, all he had to do was knock on the damn door.

The lock clicks, and the door swings open without his prompting - he knows, he checks to make sure his hands are still in his pockets - and suddenly she’s in front of him, bundled so tight he can only see her eyes. She comes up short when she almost runs into him.

“Oh!” she says, bracing her hands on his chest, and that- that wasn’t helping things.

“Hi,” he says, hoping his face doesn’t look as awkward as it feels.

“Hi,” she breathes, eyes widening where she sees where her hands are at. She snatches them back. “Um- Is there a problem?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “I just-” He clears his throat, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck.

She tilts her head. “You just...?”

He must have left all his game at the hospital when he brought Aki home for the first time. He feels like a teenager. “Would you like to come over for dinner on Christmas Eve?”

She blinks up at him. 

He starts to retreat when the silence goes on for longer than two seconds. “I mean, you’re probably busy and I-”

“Yes!” she says, tugging down her scarf so he can see the rest of her face. Her eyes are shimmering again and that’s... good. He thinks. “I mean, no, I’m not busy. But yes, I would love to come over. What should I bring?”

~ ~ ~

Obi is beginning to think that he’s in real trouble.

Shirayuki brings cookies. Sugar cookies with cute little frosting designs that Aki smears all over his face. Even though he said she didn’t need to bring anything.

Where do they make people like her?

“Tanbarun,” she says, smiling in a way that makes her dimples stand out the most. “Although no one ever believes me. My hair doesn’t exactly peg me as Tanbarunian.”

He hums, barely listening as he watches Aki softly snoring in her lap. His son clutches his binky friend in his arms, looking every bit as content with her as his bed as he did in his own.

Lucky kid.

“You’re a good cook,” she remarks, and he blinks, looking at her with wide eyes. The glow from the Christmas tree catches off her hair, multicolored strings painting her so she looks like some stained glass window.

“Oh?” he smiles, slow. “You sound surprised.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s just been a while since I’ve had food like that. Since starting college, it’s all take out and reheated meals-”

“I was like that when this little guy showed up,” he says, nodding his chin in Aki’s direction. “But I had to make time. I don’t want to raise him not knowing what a homecooked meal tastes like.”

She bites her lip, looking down at the little boy in her arms and she shouldn’t look so right in this room, on his couch, with his son on her lap and the sound of Frosty the Snowman playing on the TV. “You take really good care of him.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s not a big deal. I’m just-”

“No.” Her face is so serious, eyes so intent. “I mean it. You don’t have to be half the dad that you are.”

It’s a rather inconvenient time in his life for his heart to be doing whatever it is doing.

“Yes,” he chokes. “I do.”

~ ~ ~

It’s officially Christmas when she lays Aki in his crib.

“I bought him something,” she says lowly as he walks her to the door. “You, too. If you wait just a minute, I can go grab them and-”

“Bring it tomorrow,” he breathes.

Her eyes go wide. “Oh, Obi. I couldn’t intrude-”

“Or today,” he amends, glancing at the clock. “We can all eat breakfast together and watch him destroy the wrapping paper.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the string lights or just her face, but she glows.

“Okay,” she smiles in a bashful sort of way. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Just for you bubbles: Lets have some obiyuki food sharing with FEELINGS

Belling the Cat (Chapter One)

“Are you okay, Obi? Do you need me to carry you back?”

He laughs. Or at least he tries. Pain shoots through him like lightning as he leans back against the tree; His throat feels raw, breath rattling wetly in hischest as he struggles to breathe. Every inhale is a trial, every exhale a release encouraging his surrender.It’s too much effort to turn his head, so he shifts his eyes towards Torou andsmiles bitterly at her intent expression.

Ah, she’ll be getting a much larger cut without him in thepicture.

“It’s fine,” he rasps. “We finished the job, didn’t we?”

Her eyes round like a doe, but he’s not an idiot. Alow, hoarse sound vibrates through him until the back of histhroat constricts, turning it into a wheeze. 

He doesn’t look away - not when she is capable of slitting his throat with only a tokenstruggle. One move from her will set the rest of them upon him like a pack of wolves. He needs toleave before any of them get it in their heads to finish off what their targets started.

Sinking his hand into the loamy earth, he wraps an arm around his middle and pusheshimself back, using the tree as a brace. His feet slip in the mud, dropping him abruptly before hecatches himself. Clenching his teeth, he holds himself tight to prevent the scream thatwants to rip out of his throat. 

Torou flinches, one footshifting towards him, and Obi glares. Even lame dogs have teeth and he intends to show them to her if she would but try to take him. 

He coughs, sharp bursts of pain stabbing him from theinside, and he brings his full weight onto his feet. “The money…” he gasps onthe inhale and swallows. The back of his throat tastes like metal. “It’s mine.”

She’s frozen, her eyes locked on him. She slowly nods.

With one last sneer, he turns. This way, he thinks,is the way back. He can collect his money and find a discreet place todrink this pain into numbness. And maybe find a physician. He might need one this time.

Shuffling, he limps into the forestsembrace, waiting for the knife to his back that never comes.

~ ~ ~

It’s pouring.

His breath fogs his vision as he inches forward andthe rain slices through the canopy, stabbing his skin until it is numb.

At least he can’t feel the way his skin gapes openanymore.

His clothes are soaked through, heavy and pulling himtowards the ground with each step. How much longer was it going to take toreach the rendezvous point like this? Hours? Days?

It’s colder, he thinks, than when he started. Nightmust be coming soon. Or had night passed already into morning? He pauses, leaning against a tree and closing his eyes. Pressing his hand to his stomach, his body gurgles in protest and helooks down. His vest and belt are stained red now. 

Obi stumbles, falling to his knees and he stares at hisfront. What was he doing again?

Rendezvous. He needed to make to to the rendezvouspoint.

Right.

But… he had time. He could- he could rest… for a littlebit. Just a bit.

~ ~ ~

The sound of rain is deafening now, pounding the earth in a relentless cacophony of noise. He watches as tiny rivers slide between his knees, soil giving way to slowly suck him underground.

Heavy boots smack against the muck, rousing him from his daze. Blinking slowly, he turns his head until he sees the outline of a man approaching him in the dim, heavy coat drenched with rain and caked with mud. At his hip, Obi can see the bulge of a short sword.

It’s a wonder they found him so quickly.

Obi stares blankly at the man as the other appraises him with a grim look. He’s broad and able bodied–likely an excellent swordsman in his time–but older. That’s good. Older men tend to move more slowly, especially in the damp. Keeping one hand pressed to his gut, he lets the fingers of his other twitch towards his blades.

“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” the man comments.

Obi exhales, as close as he can come to a laugh. That was an understatement. The man smiles, the sort of warm expression that would put a lesser man at ease, and takes a step closer. Silently, Obi palms two knives from their hold, sliding them between his fingers. Just a few more steps… just a few more and he can sever his achilles tendons. It’ll be enough to maim. Enough to get away. He’s had enough death for today.

“Why don’t you come with me?” the man suggests. “I don’t live far from here. We can get you dried off and patched up.”

He’s sure.

The man hesitates just out of reach and looks at him, considering, before extending his hand. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Obi swings his arm around, slashing the air and instantlyregretting it as the wound at his chest rips and his blades meet nothing but air. 

The man holds his palms forward, placating. “Calm down,son. You’re hurt.”

Obi bares his teeth, clambering to his feet and slipping in the mud as he stumbles forward. The man backs away slowly when he flips the knives in his hands to stab.

“Come on. You don’t want to do this.”

He’s right; he doesn’t. He wants to crawl back under the tree and not move, but surrender isn’t an option, is it? The man backs up further, opening his coat to reveal the hilt of his sword and Obi charges forward. 

The man draws, blocking him easily. Metal clashes and Obi throws his full weight forward, attempting to force them both to the ground, but the other’s footing is solid. The man shoves him back with a grunt and Obi slides, almost tripping over his own feet.

Shaking his head to clear his swimming vision, Obi charges again, swinging his arms wildly as the man deftly dodges each blow. His ankles wobble as he surges forward and the man side steps him, sending Obi tilting forward, his blades fumbling from his weakening grasp as he falls face first onto the wet ground. 

He gasps, feeling every bone in his body rattle with pain. Recovering, he catches the glint of metal in front of him and he crawls forward through the sludge, retrieving one blade before spinning up onto his knees with a scowl.

Lightning flashes before the sharp crack of thunder snaps overhead and the man lowers his sword.

“I think you’re done, son.”

Obi bares his teeth, dragging himself to his feet once more. He sways. “No.”

The man’s weathered face flattens, his expression turning towards pity. “Yes.” 

In the next moment, it feels like a club has beencracked across the base of his skull. His vision stutters, numbness shooting straight down his spineand he tips forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see pale white hairplastered to a paler and far more unforgiving face.

Oh. There were two of them. 

Of course.

How careless.

He never feels himself hit the ground.

~ ~ ~

He wakes again as he is jarred, the smell of wet horse dragging across his face before he is flipped forward and then settled over two arms. Hands slide under his knees and shoulder blades while his head and arms fall limply back. Against his wrist, he can feel rough strips of hemp digging into his skin. 

“Mukaze!” he hears a man call out through the sound of rainfall. “Are you injured? What happened?!”

“The blood’s not mine,” the voice vibrates against his side, splitting his ears. “I’ll tell you about it later. Are there still people in the clinic?”

“Aye!” the man replies. “Shirayuki and several of them are still inside.”

“Then run ahead and let them know I have work for them.”

~ ~ ~

The warmth of the room is as suffocating as the sound of at least five voices raising in a riot. His nose is assaulted with the overpowering smell of herbs and bitter tinctures.

“Dad!”

“What is this, Mukaze?”

The chest he is pressed against huffs. “We found him in the mud.”

“Why did you tie him?”

The man- Mukaze, was it? makes an embarrassed noise. “He was, ah- a little unruly. I didn’t want to takethe risk of him snapping my neck on the way home.”

There is a strong sound of disapproval before an older woman’s voice breaks in. “Lay him down and take off his clothes. And for the gods sake, untie him. We needto see how bad it is.”

Obi is jarred and then flopped forward, his face pressed against smooth wood as fingers work at the rope. “He’s lost a lotof blood and is a bit wild. Itoya and I think he might have something to do with the attack on the Brigalti house. I don’t know how likely he is to—”

The ropes part and his hands are free. Obi stomps his foot down on the man’s boot, flinging his head back and feeling his vision jar when he hears the satisfying snap of his skull meeting his captors face.

“Son of a bitch!”

There is a chorus of screams and he twists himself around, his hand reaching for his blades and finding them missing. Blearily, he looks around the room, scanning for the door and pushing himself towards it.

“Stop him! Stop him!” someone yells. Wood scrapes against thefloor, glass shatters and someone curses. Two arms band around his his elbows, yanking him backwards and pulling the wound open further still. He wails.

Somewhere, a woman screams. “Stop, stop. Get him tothe table.”

Obi kicks at empty air before dragging his feet. He’s lifted, flung onto a hard surface and his arms pinned. “Your belt, Itoya!”

He panics, smooth leather sliding across his wristsand he bucks up, freeing himself to swing his fist. It never lands. One hand wraps around thesloppy punch and slams it back to the table before another body throws itselfacross his torso, trapping his other arm and knocking the wind from his lungs.

“Hold still!”

Obi kicks wildly, roaring as he feels the leather loopback around his wrist and then tighten, binding him firmly. At his other side, someone ducks under the table, grabbing hisclawed hand and repeating the treatment. He yanks frantically, his throat rawand his eyes stinging.

“Kazuki! Get his feet!”

“What? Why do I-?”

“Kazuki!”

“Okay! Okay!”

The weight is gone from his chest, but he is still helddown by his shoulders. Another weight crosses his thighs and his lungs seize,screaming hoarsely and wrenching uselessly at his legs as he feels somethingwrap around his ankles.

He catches movement, a cloth coming at his face and arches his neck, snapping his teeth at it. It flinches back.

“Someone hold his head!”

Pressure winds around his skull, and he twists hisneck, but the hands are like a vice pressing at his crown and jaw, forcing hismouth shut. He roars, the sound muffled and weak through his teeth before thesoft press of cotton is over his lips and nose. He holds his breath, yanking franticallyat where both of his arms and his ankles are tied. Panic strangles him, forcinghim to take a deep gasp and—

“That’s right,” a soft female voice cooes. He flinches, trying to pull away but the hands hold him firm. He drags in anothermouthful of air, the strength draining from him. Everything is slowing down. “Deepbreaths. Take deep breaths.”

The acrid stench of fermented berries works fast,numbing his fingertips and toes before working up to his shins… his elbows. He triesto hold his breath.

“You’re okay.”

He whines brokenly, pinching open his eyes to see a sea of green hovering over him. 

He doesn’t want to die. He always said- he always saidhe was ready, when the time came, but he’s not.

“Shhh…” Something touches to his brow that ripplesthrough his whole body. ”It’s okay. You’re safe. Sleep.”

Doesn’t want… to die….

~ ~ ~

It’s dark, and he is far, far away from his body, thelull of his heartbeat steady in his ears. It’s pleasant. Warm.

His eyes open.

A woman, face and hair obscured behind a white mask,stares at a body laid flat and lifeless before her. A faint itch vibratesacross his skin and her fingers draw back, stained red and holding a bloody threaded needle. She turns her head away, a muffled voice carrying itself somewhere else,murmuring words he cannot catch.

His eyes closed.

Icy fingers wrap around his heart, slipping lead intohis arms and legs. He can’t move. The great, gaping maw of a specter opens wideand licks the blood from his open wounds. Its touch freezes him down to thebone, seeping under his skin to take his lungs hostage. He can’t breathe.

His eyes open.

The dull glow of candles warms the dark and he canfeel the back of his head being cradled, another massaging his throat.Something bitter is being forced through his lips.

He’s drowning.

He sputters, gasping, the poison flooding his throat.It doesn’t burn like the others had said it would. There is a soft exclamationnext to him, the shuffling of chairs and raising of voices. Green fills hisvision again.

His vision shifts, his body jared and cheek comes intocontact with a hard surface. Fluid expels from his nostrils and throat.

Now it burns.

His eyes close.

Warmth surrounds his body again, lapping his skin in agentle rhythm. A rough cloth passes over his skin, leaving a trail of cold inits wake.

Someone is humming.

Suddenly, there is the jar of wood rattlingrhythmically in time to a fist. His heart seizes.

“I’m not done yet!” a voice echoes through a small,enclosed space.

“Don’t leave him too long in that water,” another calls from further away.

There’s the sound of grumbling and this time thenearer speaks far more softly. “I’ll leave him in as long as it takes to getrid of this stench.”

His eyes open.

He’s being shifted, the dull knife of pain registeringin the back of his mind. Blonde hair and eyes almost like his come into hisvision. At first he thinks a girl is the owner of the scowling face, but hisvoice corrects him. 

“You’re heavy,” he complains.

His eyes close.

~ ~ ~ 

Pain registers, full and bright, as he opens his eyes to a sun drenched room. It is manageable, but he doesn’t recognize this place.

Heart in his throat, he tilts his head, scanning the space quickly. In the corner of the room, a slip of a woman stands with her back to him, working some concoction over a stove. Dragging his gaze from her, he looks around for his clothes, knowing without looking that the fabric wrapping his body is not his. It is far too heavy.

His eyes land on his beltand hat on the corner table - hopefully his knives are there, but he sees nothing else. He pushes himself up with a grunt, surprised at how much effort it takes, how shaky his elbows are under the weight of his torso.

Glancing down, he sees that he is wearing an oversized white shirt. He’s not sure if he iswearing pants.

“Where are my clothes?” he wants to demand, but it comes out as a rasp. What’s wrong with his voice?When did it ever sound so weak?

The woman starts, turning around with wide eyes. She ignores his question. “You’re already awake!” she smiles. “Are you hungry?”

He is. “Where are my clothes?” he repeats with a glare.

Her smile falters before she folds her hands in front of her. “We had to cut them off of you,” she informs him before gesturing at the table. “That is all that survived.”

Obi grunts, annoyed. He liked those pants. 

“Don’t get up,” she says when he shifts towards the edge of the bed.

He scowls at her. She frowns.

“I’m not interested in sewing you back just because you’re being stubborn.”

Obi glowers. “You can’t make me stay.”

The woman’s face becomes markedly unimpressed. “Fine,” she says, waving her hand towards the door as she turns her back to him once more. “Thedoor is open. I won’t stop you.”

Obi stares at her back suspiciously before swinging his legs off theedge of the bed and furrowing his brows at how lifeless they feel. Slowly, he shifts himself towards standing and his head swims. Catching himself on the headboard, he holds himself for the space of two breaths before his wobbly knees give out, sending him careening directly to the floor.

He groans in agony. Across the room, he can hear a soft exhale of exasperation before the woman pads over to him. 

“What did you do to me?” he asks, staring at her out of the corner of his eye. He can’t look too intimidating as a heap on the floor, but he will surely try.

She crouches down. “You’ve beenin bed for the last two weeks while your injuries healed,” she says. “It’ll take some time before your body is up for walking again.”

His ire rises. “You drugged me?”

She nods. “Yes. You shouldn’t have to feel that much pain.”

Obi blinks. Oh.

Her hands reach towards him and he flinches. The woman pulls back, frowning. “I’m going to help you back to bed,” she says. “Unless you like your newhome on the floor.”

His lips twist petulantly. “No offense, Miss, but shouldn’t you ask someone bigger to do this?”

Her expression flattens once again. “You’re not thatheavy.”

He wants to tell her that the pretty blonde boy disagreed, but she is sliding her arm under his armpit, adjusting him tositting before wrapping the other under his knee and pulling him across both her shoulders. With a soft grunt, she pushes herself up high enough into a crouch to roll him back onto the mattress.

He lands with only a mild sense of pain and stares.

Face flushed, she smiles over at him, panting. “See?” she grins, pushing her hair out of her face. “Now, unless you have any other objections, may Isuggest some food?”

Obi feels his heart twist in his chest. He nods.

~ ~ ~

The young Miss sits at bedside, blowing on spoonful of porridge, a bowl cradled in her lap. When she holds it out towards him, he hesitates. He wants to do it himself. 

She looks at him earnestly, pushing the spoon closer to him and clenches his jaw before relaxing, slowly opening his mouth. Her lips tilt in a small grin as he takes it, swallowing with very little effort. It’s thick and a littlesweet.

She pulls the spoon back, lowering her gaze. “By the way,” she says, scoopingup another bite and blowing on it. “My name is Shirayuki. What’s yours?”

His brow furrows as he stares at her, trying to figure what she’s about. She peeks up at him from underneath the hood of her lashes and he looks away.

What’s the harm?

“Call me Obi.”