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Chapter Text

“Ryuu!” The main pharmacy door crashed against the wall and rebounded, shuddering. Ryuu dropped everything and ran, pens scattering in his wake. Obi had taken Shirayuki herb gathering. If he was coming back, kicking down doors, and shouting for Ryuu, that meant -

Shirayuki was cradled in Obi’s arms, pressed tightly against his chest. The fact she wasn't greeting Ryuu was unusual, but he didn't see any overt signs of injury. No blood or bruises, no broken bones. Obi, on the other hand, looked like a man on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Ryuu got his first clue why as Shirayuki stretched upward and locked her lips on the corner of Obi’s jaw. Obi screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. A trail of marks down the side of his neck showed she’d been busy all the way back from the woods.

“Congratulations. Now get a room.” That had taken them long enough. Ryuu really didn’t need to know any of the details. He smiled as he turned back toward his office.

“Ryuu! This isn’t funny!” Obi was pleading now. He grunted as he dislodged Shirayuki from his throat and she whined. Her fingertips traced his eyebrows lovingly. “She got a faceful of some flower pollen and now she thinks I’m Zen.”

Okay, that was actually interesting. “Describe the flower.”

“Big flower, blue petals with purple along the edges. The plant was low to the ground, tiny leaves, growing under another plant. Miss was reaching past it for something else, it went poof, and when I went over to check on her, she attacked me.” The note of panic dropped and his voice got very quiet for a moment. “This isn’t fair, Ryuu.”

“Sounds like a Hyacintho Desiderium. The petals are used as a soporific and sometimes sold as an aphrodisiac, but this is the first I’ve heard of the pollen having an effect.” Even more interesting. “Did you save any?”

Obi’s response was so flat it could press flowers. “I was busy. On my back trying to fend off one extremely aggressive herbalist convinced I’m her prince boyfriend.” His chest convulsed as Shirayuki licked his ear. Ryuu really didn’t need to see this, or hear the hums and wet noises Shirayuki made against Obi's skin. “Just tell me it's safe for me to put her down and leave her alone.” He was breathless, agitated to a level that would have a less controlled man in tears.

“If the pollen works like the petals, she’ll be fine. She should get sleepy anytime now.” She already looked very disinclined to move, her legs dangling loosely over Obi’s arm. “We can put her in one of the observation rooms.”

He turned down the covers, and Obi laid Shirayuki in the bed. It took some effort to disentangle himself, her hands slipping into his hair and attacking his clothes as he tried to get free. She had half his coat undone by the time he captured both her hands at once. He stared at her a moment, as if committing the sight to memory. Ryuu could almost see him deciding one last time not to take the opportunity to kiss her. Then he sharply dropped her hands and fled the room.

Ryuu heard Obi thud against the outside wall and slide to the floor, sighing from the depths of his soul. Only Ryuu heard Shirayuki’s pleading whisper, “Obi, come back . . .”

Chapter Text

Obi is surprised, when he shows up in the pharmacy window, to find Ryuu and Shirayuki’s office empty. By this time of day, their regular chores in the garden are usually long done. They should be holding office hours, one or the other disappearing briefly to fetch ingredients or look up a reference book, but rarely both gone at once. This is Obi’s favorite time of day to be here and he's all but expected.

He hears something unusual in the distance and drops to the office floor to go investigate. The heels of his boots are the only sound as he crosses the room, but as he opens the door to the hall he hears it again, clearer this time. It sounds like . . . giggles? It’s coming from the direction of the examining rooms. Higata got the scolding of a lifetime the time he got caught there with his girlfriends, so Obi doubts it's him this time. He has no idea what to expect.

The source of the giggles is a baby, of all things, sitting in Shirayuki’s lap while she reads a book about animals out loud. The baby’s hands flail at the pages as she tries to make an elephant sound. It sounds like some kind of sick goose and Obi can barely hold back giggles himself. He peeks around the edge of the door, enthralled by her smile, the baby's giggles, and the happiness the room is just awash in. He isn’t used to it. That is the only reason Ryuu manages to sneak up on him. “What are you doing, Obi?”

Obi springs into the center of the doorway. “I didn't want to interrupt the story.” He grabs his shoulder and looks harmless, just silly Obi in the wrong place at the wrong time, not a scary guy lurking around corners.

Shirayuki looks up, her hands confidently holding the baby against her chest. He has no illusions she believes that story. She opens her mouth, but before whatever blistering retort she plans can come out, Ryuu heads her off. “Obi’s here so you don't need me anymore. I'll get back to work.” He disappears down the hall before anyone can react.

Shirayuki sighs. She addresses her next comments to the baby, who is gnawing on his fist with tiny teeth. “Uncle Ryuu didn't want to play anymore, but uncle Obi is lots of fun.” The two of them look to Obi and he recoils. He knows nothing about entertaining babies.

Shirayuki stands, cradling the baby's bottom while he tries to push off from her chest. “Can you take him for just a minute? I really need to stretch my back.” She moves close to Obi, far closer than she usually gets, and shifts her hands outward just enough to make openings.

Obi freezes. He knows nothing about holding a baby either. She can't possibly expect him to do this. Clearly the terror shows on his face, because Shirayuki smiles reassuringly. “Just get one arm under his bottom and one hand on his back, just like I'm doing. Then you can sit on the chair and he'll stand on your lap, you just hold onto his chest so he doesn't fall. You have big hands, you shouldn't have any trouble.”

The transfer is beyond awkward. Obi knows his arm is pressing into her body in a most inappropriate way, but he's too busy to care. The little boy grabs his collar, and Obi is holding a baby for the first time ever. It's something like holding an expensive vase and something like holding a sack of rice, but worse than both because it moves. He feels his way to the chair with tiny steps, afraid to take his eyes off the little guy for a second.

Shirayuki is stretching her upper back and rolling her shoulders. It doesn't look like Ryuu was doing his share of the babysitting. Obi wants to watch her and be distracted, but with a heave, the baby suddenly stands up in Obi’s lap and looks him in the face. He's holding this little person around the chest and he looks so very serious. If this were an older child, he'd introduce himself. That's as good a plan as any. “Nice to meet you, little man. I'm Obi. I have aliases and many secrets.” He really likes that line and wishes Shirayuki would stop giggling every time he uses it. It ruins the impact. “Don't listen to her, I really do.” The baby is staring at him with big pale blue eyes. Who has blue eyes anyway? “I would like to be properly introduced but someone has neglected to inform me of your name.” He looks up to Shirayuki and quirks an eyebrow.

She looks surprised, as though she's been caught doing something. “Momo. Apparently he doesn't sleep much, so Yatsufusa and his wife have been exhausted. I offered to watch him for a couple of hours so they could get a nap.” She strolls around next to Obi’s chair and leans over his shoulder to rub Momo’s nose with her own. “We've been having fun. Ooh!” She interrupts herself. “He loves raspberries. You should see this."

Obi expected fruit, but she means the noise with her mouth. She purses her lips and blows a surprisingly loud rude noise, and Momo breaks into a peal of giggles. Obi’s never heard anything like it. He can't help joining in, and Shirayuki only avoids it by being smug.

When Momo stops giggling, Obi has to catch his breath too. He has to try this himself. Feeling effervescent with laughter, he leans over to Shirayuki where she is bent next to him, and blows a resounding raspberry on her cheek. She squeals, Momo breaks into baby belly laughs that rattle Obi's hands, and he feels like his heart is going to explode.

But now Shirayuki has to go for revenge. He turns to plead for clemency just as she swoops to return the favor, and their lips meet around their open mouths. Her breath puffs a surprised “ah,” but she doesn't jump back. Obi, torn between enforcing the space she deserves and offering the kiss he wants so badly to share with her, pauses only a scant breath, then tilts his head to seal his lips to hers. His hands are full of baby, she can freely pull away if she chooses, but he is going to make the most of this chance he might never have again.

His heart sings as she tilts to match him and her surprised eyes close. She is willing, willing! For a moment there is only the slow drag of his lips across hers. She tastes of nothing he can identify, something uniquely Shirayuki. It's his new favorite. He sits up into her, tickling the corner of her mouth with his tongue and swallowing the tiny grunt she makes. Her hand comes up to thread through his hair and he has to remind himself of where they are. They have a responsibility. He is still holding a baby.

His lips pull from Shirayuki’s with a pop and that is as good as a raspberry to Momo. He giggles again. Obi and Shirayuki stare at each other.

He can't erase the look of longing from his face or forget the beautiful blush on hers. They're still staring when Yatsufusa appears at the door. “Dadadadada!” Shouts Momo and bounces in Obi’s lap.

“I'll just take this and go,” says Yatsufusa. He lifts Momo from Obi's hands, smirking behind his scarf. Obi still doesn't understand how he sees, but clearly he can tell what's going on here. He closes the door behind himself, leaving Obi and Shirayuki alone in the exam room.

Shirayuki hasn't said anything. She sees something at his mouth and can't look away. She's always been one to see him as a person, and right now she's seeing him as an object of desire. He could die happy from the look on her face. He could live even happier if she chose to act on it. He's offered himself to her now. He's already hers, but he sits still, waiting to see if she will take him.

Chapter Text

One of the many things Obi hates about his condition is the fraction of a second between returning to consciousness and breaking the surface of the water. No number of resurrections has proved enough to convince his body that he isn't drowning, and he starts every new life in a panic.

Next comes disappointment. Nothing changed, still not dead. Then he remembers the last thing he saw. Sometimes it doesn't matter much, when he's died of illness or accident or his own stupidity, but this time it is Shirayuki screaming, poised to run but delaying in a futile hope that he'll join her. Tear tracks streak her cheeks. The rocky path smashes him in the face and everything stops.

He surfaces in a still lake, not far from shore. The water is cold as one would expect from the mountains ringing it, but it’s not going to kill him again right away. His clothes are all with Shirayuki, assuming she's made it to safety - his hidden caches around Lyrias and Wistal can't help him here. He treads water, slowly working his way toward the shore. He's been dancing around the issue, but clothes are not his most important decision right now. If he goes back to Clarines, there is no hiding the truth this time. Shirayuki literally saw him die with at least three arrows in his chest. He's failed her again, and unless he runs away he'll have to face her with that shame and explain how he's alive.

He splashes to shore, the sun warming his skin as he emerges. Returning from the dead dulls his senses, or he would have noticed sooner that he isn't alone. A sharp gasp draws his attention, and his list of options shortens immensely as he meets Shirayuki’s eyes.

“Obi,” she whispers, and takes two sharp steps toward him. Then she stops, her gaze dropping from his eyes. Oh, she is probably embarrassed by his state of undress. Her stunned face the time she'd seen him shirtless (and not bleeding) has been a pleasant memory he's treasured many lonely nights. This might be a bit much for her. But when she doesn't move, he looks closer, and that isn't embarrassment in her eyes. She looks confused, almost betrayed.

“Are you okay, miss?” A ludicrous question. Of course she doesn't understand how this is possible. He wishes he knew so he could explain it to her. She takes two more steps toward him, softly as though he were a wild animal. Her eyes are still riveted to his . . . chest? He looks down to see what she’s looking at, and smooth skin greets him. Oh. It’s been so long this time he'd forgotten. He'd been used to those scars - it’s going to be strange without them for a while. He rolls his left shoulder, and the ache there is gone too. Another clean start. Hooray.

Her cheeks pink a bit at his motion. “Obi?” She says again, this time a question. He can't lie to her when she looks at him like that.

“Yes, miss, it's me. I can explai-" the breath is knocked out of him by Shirayuki’s hug. It’s hard to appreciate when he feels so exposed, but her grip is like iron. Her warm fingers dig into his back like she’s never going to let go. She sniffs - is she crying? Obi tries to back out of her hold to talk to her, but she grips harder, her nails digging painfully into his back. That’s okay, actually. Let the first marks on this body be hers.

He feels her lips moving against his chest now but can't hear what she’s saying. This is going to get embarrassing. He flexes, gently prying her arms apart, and her nails dragging across his back feel distractingly good. In a breath she goes from tense to limp, and it’s his turn to catch her.

“I'm okay, miss. Really.” He gets the distinct feeling he’ll be reassuring her for days. “When I die it just . . . doesn't stick. This isn't the first time. I'm still me and I'm okay now.” Her tears slow now, and if he knows his miss, the next phase will be curiosity. He is going to be in for all kinds of investigation, but at least she isn't the kind to ask him to die again. She's never seen him as a tool before, and he doesn't think even this would change that about her.

Her fingers betray the first blushes of that curiosity, running gently over the skin of his chest. Both her hands stop just where his largest scar used to be. “I always wished I could heal you,” she murmurs. “I dreamed of being able to fix this scar. But you never needed me for that, did you?” She leans forward and kisses his chest inside the frame of her two hands.

His mind goes white with surprise. She’s in his space. He feels her lips on his new unmarked skin, too much, too much. They’re warm and wet and it goes on longer than he can keep from reacting. His breath saws out of him, but even through that she holds on. One of her hands runs across his side, verifying that the scarred ridges are gone from there too. Obi tenses to keep it from tickling, and her hand stutters in its path. She ends the kiss with a gentle tick and looks up, reaching her other hand to cup his cheek. Izana's rock had left a thin silver line, now gone with all the rest. Her thumb smooths over where it had been, and she steps closer to ease the reach.

She’s standing so close and her hands are insistent on his body. It’s too hard to think about cold water and arrows when Shirayuki is near enough to touch. She’s warm and so close and he’s been dying to kiss her for years. His resolve wavers. She knows his secret now. Would it be fair to let her know how he feels and let her choose?

She jerks both her hands away as though his skin burns her. Her wide eyes flick down, up, and now there is the embarrassment he expected all along. But she doesn’t turn away and hide her eyes this time, and he thinks just maybe that curiosity is warring with her fixed upward gaze.

He moves, just fractionally shifting his weight, and Shirayuki squeaks. “You must be hungry, I’ll get you something to eat!” She spins and flees, calling back, “And pants!”

Chapter Text

The boy who lives in the forest is a witch. Everyone says so.

He keeps to himself, mostly, studying plants and drawing diagrams. They say he came from a palace, and he knows poisons. Medicines, he replies if you ask, and nobody else is half as skilled at curing a cough or taking away a wart.

Some who've come to his cottage in the day swear he's not alone. A forest spirit, tall and dark and man-shaped, disappears into the sunlit woods as visitors approach. Gold eyes, they say, like a cat.

Children who've come at night to prove their courage say he's not alone. A feminine voice speaks with the witch of leaves and seeds and cures. A red fairy, like a woman, says the only one brave enough to look through the window.

One afternoon a prince steps out of a carriage. He’s handsome and fair like the moon, but impatient. He sets off into the forest. The children find him at the witch’s house and crowd around the windows to hear. He’s not there for the witch boy, who huddles in a corner with his books and his quills. A red bird perches on his shoulder.

Instead the prince cries over the forest spirit’s scarred hands. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, he repeats again and again. He promises I’ll fix this, somehow I’ll find a way. The spirit stands motionless. The witch continues to write. The bird sings, heedless of the sobbing.

The last crescent of the sun disappears behind the mountains, and when eyes have adjusted to the darkness, the forest spirit is gone. Instead the prince embraces the red fairy, apologizing all over again with the same refrain, I’m sorry, I’ll fix this, I’m so sorry. A black cat twines around their feet as the witch lights his candles.

The fairy woman picks up the cat, who nestles under her chin. We still have each other, she says. I forgive you.

There’s too much magic in the room for mere mortals. The children flee to the safety of their homes, afraid of curses. The prince comes back late, worn with guilt and ragged with apology. Nobody says a word.

Chapter Text

The chain dragging at Shirayuki’s wrist fell loose as the guard found the cell he was looking for. Keys clanked against bars, the door opened with a grind of rust, and as he forced Shirayuki in she tripped over her gown. The spatters of blood along the hem were newly obscured by unidentifiable sludge.

Chains not her own rattled, and she realized the cell was already occupied. The other inmate was hunched over, hands chained tightly to a ring in the floor. Most of the prisoners roamed freely within their cells - what had this man done?

The guard kicked him to the side, then unlocked his manacles from the floor ring. Shirayuki saw his forearms tense, and stepped back in case he was about to attack. “Stand up,” the guard barked, and the prisoner slowly got to his feet. His air was that of someone waiting for a bus, not a prisoner in a dark, dank hole. Shirayuki admired his composure as she tried to hold herself together.

The guard pulled Shirayuki close with a yank, opening her chains and shoving her into the other prisoner's chest. He stood motionless as the guard dragged her arms around him, interlacing her arms with his so they couldn't easily untangle themselves. She whimpered at the feel of iron encircling her wrist again.

The guard sneered, “Maybe this guy will be more to your taste.” Then he turned and left, a vicious smile playing on his lips.

There was no way to get away from her fellow prisoner. Looking up, she couldn't see much of him in the gloom, just an amber flash of eyes and an impression of height. He smelled like he'd been in the dungeon for a while and had the beard to match. It caught in her hair as he turned to watch the guard go. He was silent but tense, a coiled spring. She wondered just what kind of punishment the jailers expected him to be for her.

At her shiver, he turned to look down and the tension dissipated. “Don't worry, miss, scared women aren't my type.” That was at least a little good sign.

That also put him one step above the First Prince of Tanbarun. “I'm not scared, I'm angry,” she replied. As long as she stayed furious, there was no room for fear. She was mad at the guard for treating her like this. She was mad at herself for not having run as soon as she was summoned. Most of all, she was mad at Prince Raj for putting her in this position.

“You are the one who punched the Prince, then.” He sounded pleased by this fact. “I thought you might be, in that dress.”

“Even in the dungeons?” It couldn't have been more than a couple of hours since the incident, and the news had already made it this far?

“Especially in the dungeons, miss. What do we have better to do? You’re a hero to half the guys in here.”

That was interesting phrasing. “But not you?”

“I’m not from around here. I don’t care much whose prince gets pummeled, unless it means more work for me. Now are you ready to get out of here?”

“Of course,” she breathed. She didn’t want to be there a second longer than necessary. “But how?”

“How are you at setting dislocated joints?” He made it sound like a joke. Surely he couldn't know.

“I'm an herbalist, not a bone doctor, but I know what to do.”

“Good. I always have trouble with it myself." He sounded surprised, but didn't take time to question. There was a pop and a wriggle, and he was unwinding his arms from hers. She missed the warmth against her front, but welcomed the breathing room. He found her hands with his, one thumb grotesquely dislocated and the manacles still hanging from his other wrist. Her chain made it awkward, but she was a professional, resetting the joint neatly. She wished she had the right medicines to give, or at least a bandage.

“You should go easy on that for at least a week,” she started.

He barked a laugh. “I'll get right on that, miss.” Then he walked to the wall where a high window admitted a thread of moonlight and climbed it. She was reminded of the lizards that ran up and down the walls in her grandparents’ innyard. Following him, she ran her hand across the wall and felt only smooth stone. He was gone and she had no way to follow him. Nice that someone had made it out. It would have been nice if he'd helped her too.

“Hsst!” Came a noise from above. He was back, lowering her a belt, of all things. Where had he gotten a belt? She looked down at the short length of chain between her hands, the ruins of her gown. How was she supposed to climb? “Hold on and I'll pull you up.” Oh. She grabbed on to the belt, then the window sill when he'd pulled her high enough.

They perched together on the sill. Now that she could get a better look at him in the moonlight, her hands itched for her medicine bag. Her rescuer had a swollen cut above his left eyebrow, certainly infected. He’d been beaten recently, and she suspected that under the layer of grime she would find older bruises.

He, unconcerned with his injuries, was gauging the next step of their escape. They had a twenty-foot drop to the cobblestones below, at least, then no cover until they crossed the square and could lose themselves in the twisty roads of the old city. Before she could say anything about their destination, he slid off the ledge and dropped soundlessly to the ground.

She couldn't do that. She looked down from the window, and he beckoned her to jump. Her forehead wrinkled and she hesitated. He held his hands out again and hissed up at her, “You can trust me or you can stay.” If he was going to put it that way, it wasn't much of a choice. She let go. A sickening moment of drop, then he caught her. He winced as her manacle hit him in the shoulder and rattled. In the silence it rang like an alarm. The moonlight faded as clouds rolled in, and Shirayuki gave thanks for good timing.

He set her down and they flattened themselves against the wall, hoping the darkness and the lip at the window would hide them from lookouts on the roof. Shirayuki barely breathed. The man beside her watched her, a tiny smile on his lips as they heard voices come nearer, then recede again. “Ready to run, miss?” He looked like he was actually enjoying himself.

She held up her manacled hands again. She would fall on her face if she tried to sprint like that. “Right.” Hiding his chained hand in his clothes, he arched the other over her shoulder. Before touching her, he asked, “shall we stroll, then?” His confidence was reassuring. She smiled up at him, he gently tucked her under his arm to hide her chains, and they walked. Every step she expected an arrow, but they took their time. Just two people out for a nighttime walk near the prison. Ten steps from their destination, the clouds cleared. Every detail of the buildings leaped out at her, and she knew her hair blazed in the light. A single shout behind them, then three more, then he was no longer strolling, but pulling her by the arm. She tried to run, stumbling at an angle, and he turned and scooped her over his shoulder.

It irritated her that he could run faster carrying her than she could on her own. He darted from corner to corner, choosing alleys at random, the narrower and darker the better. This wasn’t good, he was going to run them right back into the square at this rate. She tugged at his shirt, trying to get his attention, and he slowed enough to turn her into a more dignified position in his arms. “Take the next right and go straight,” she ordered. They needed to get to her neighborhood, and she could take care of everything. The street was wide and bright, and he stared down it nervously. “You can trust me or we can get caught. I know where we need to go.” He clearly wasn’t happy with the prospect, but he went. Three turns later, no guards sighted, they stood in front of the blacksmith’s house.

Old Hiro would never turn her in. He’d take off her chains and swear he’d never seen her. She was pretty sure he’d do the same for her rescuer too, but he was not so convinced. “We can’t just steal his tools. Even if I knew what to do, which I don’t, and even if you can get my manacles off, I’m not going to be able to get the chains off of you.” She held her slender arms up in front of her to make the point. “And it’s loud. We need help.”

On cue, the door opened. Hiro the blacksmith loomed over Shirayuki, and her partner settled into a fighting stance, light on his feet. “Stop arguing in the street if you don’t want them to catch you, and get in here.” Shirayuki complied, pausing at the step to look back. Please, she thought, holding her breath. She wanted him to get his chains off, to clean away the mess and let her treat his wounds. She wanted to know who he even was. If he turned away now she never would.

He paused a second, almost long enough for her to give up hope, then followed her into the house like a menacing shadow. Hiro wasted no time drawing the curtains and lighting a lamp. He scoffed at their manacles. “A matter of a minute,” he said, and left the room.

In the silence that followed, she didn’t know what to say. Who are you? Why were you in prison? What do we do now? Her attention was caught by a tear in his shirt where her chains had hit him. She reached for the spot to check his skin, and he flinched. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, jerking her hand back. “I just wanted to look at it. I’m an herbalist. I might be able to help. My name is Shirayuki, by the way.”

He fingered the tear himself. It must not be bothering him that much, but given the extent of his other injuries, that didn’t make her feel any better. He didn’t volunteer anything, hearing Hiro’s footsteps approaching.

It took maybe two minutes of work with a punch, a hammer, and a chunk of wood, and Hiro had removed the pins from their shackles with no further injury. He eyed the pins, pocketed them, then beckoned for them to follow as he went to toss the chains into his scrap bin. “There’s a pump in the forge if you want to clean up a bit.”

The stranger beat her to it, and Shirayuki danced from foot to foot waiting for her turn. She couldn’t stop rubbing her wrists. Her arms felt weightless after the heavy chains, and getting clean sounded like the best idea in forever.

He did look a lot more reputable after a wash. The stubble couldn't be helped, unfortunately, and she was right that the dirt had been hiding a constellation of bruises. His hair stood up in wet clumps and he looked more alert, gold eyes sharp. She felt unclean after an hour in that prison. How much worse must it have been for him?

She plunged her hands and face into the water eagerly, scrubbing at her mouth and her eyes, scraping away the cosmetics they’d painted her with and every kiss Raj had attempted. Dirt she could handle. This was going to take longer to clear away.

She paused when the worst of it was gone and dried off. A better wash would have to wait for another time. Her companion was looking at her curiously. “Do you have plans to go from here?” His look turned suspicious, and she tried to explain. “I don't have anywhere to go. I thought, maybe, I could go with you and make sure you take care of that thumb. It needs to be bandaged and immobilized. You're going to damage yourself if you don't take care of things like this. I know you have other injuries too. I can help. I know where to find the right herbs once we're outside the city.” She realized she was babbling, and paused to breathe. He was still watching her. “It's okay, I understand, I'll slow you down.” She'd think of something.

His suspicion had given way to a smirk as she talked, and now the smirk turned into a full smile. “Oh, I think we can have you up to speed in no time, miss. You can call me Obi. But I should warn you. Women who break out of prison with me are exactly my type.”

Chapter Text

Five running steps, a foot planted solidly in Obi’s waiting hands, and Shirayuki was alighting silently on the second floor balcony. The door looked into a library, empty and silent at this time of night. Perfect.

The window latch was simple, the work of a minute. Obi would have done it twice as fast, but she was getting better. Obi said her hands were perfect for picking locks, little but nimble and strong. She tiptoed into the room, staying to the carpets to muffle her steps. She eyed the books hungrily; maybe there would be some volumes on medicine? But that wasn’t what she was here for.

They were here for an emerald necklace. Five flawless, size-matched, pear-cut emeralds set as a flower in the midst of golden leaves and bees. Lady Matin had flaunted it at all the balls the last season and Lady Taiki was dying of jealousy. They’d been hired to acquire this necklace and have it broken down and remade so that Lady Taiki would have a new, equally stunning piece by next year and Lady Matin would not. Shirayuki thought that for the amount Lady Taiki offered them, she could have bought her own statement piece, but she’d never been in the market for jewels. What did she know?

Obi joked about how well emeralds would complement Shirayuki, with her matching eyes and vivid hair. He said that just once, before they turned the necklace over, he wanted to see her wear them. She didn’t know what to think when he talked like that. He whiplashed her emotions every day, shifting from exacting teacher to solicitous charmer with no warning. He was . . . difficult to pin down. And very hard on her heart.

She dated the first heartbeat of attraction to the look he gave her when she said she could set his dislocated thumb. She’d said she could do it and he took her at her word, matter-of-fact and just a little impressed. Impressing Obi always made her heart flutter a bit. He’d been downright amazed at how quickly his wounds healed under her care. She only wished she could do more. The cuts she healed crisscrossed years of old pain that yielded very little to her efforts. She was working on the trick shoulder, but she had nothing to help with the nightmares. There was just so much she didn’t know.

She wasn’t going to learn more very quickly these days, anyway. She was a thief now, not an herbalist.

The hallway was deserted as well, and there were no telltale flickers of candlelight from anywhere down the stairs. The household was well and truly asleep. She hurried back to the balcony to signal Obi, who was going to let himself in at the first floor. They didn’t know whether the jewels would be kept in the household safe or in the lady’s dressing room, so both needed to be searched.

She tied on her facemask and pulled the handkerchief and vial from her pocket. It was supposed to be used for sedating patients, not inconvenient maids, but it’s what she had to work with. And nobody was going to die, at least. It had taken her long enough to convince Obi to quit taking assassination jobs (“It’s what I’m best at,” he had argued. “Not anymore, if you want to keep your partner,” she had insisted.)

Obi had taught her how to identify who lived in a room. She watched wear patterns on the rugs, marks on the doors, the shine of the doorknobs, proximity to the stairs, but in the end it came down to a guess. Please let the hinges be oiled. Please let the lady be a heavy sleeper. Covering one eye in preparation for the darkness, she eased open the door she chose. The furniture matched what she’d been led to expect from Lady Matin. She’d picked the right place.

A step into the room, easing the door shut behind her, then she thumbed open the vial and tipped it onto the handkerchief. Five more steps to the bedside. Her hand shook, extended toward the occupant. It wouldn’t harm her, she reminded herself one last time. It would just give her time to work. It was necessary.

A large hand clamped over her mouth as an arm wrapped around her from behind, lifting her into the air. She squealed, kicking and trying to bite. She had to warn Obi. But the bedsheets were thrown back, revealing a young man with the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen. He leaped forward, avoiding her knees, to tie a gag around her, and with his hand freed, the man behind her wrestled her to the bed, and before she knew it she was tied at the elbows and knees. Face pressed into the fine sheets, angry tears leaked from her eyes. They’d captured her so easily. She was going to go back to prison, and this time would be even worse.

After just a couple of minutes, footsteps pounded into the room, whispers were exchanged, and she was hoisted again into the air. The tall man carried her down the stairs like a sack, toward voices on the first floor. Again she hoped Obi had gotten away, but she couldn’t quite believe it anymore.

As she feared, they had caught him in the kitchen and bound him just like her. Two would-be captors lay elsewhere in the room, unconscious. Shirayuki appreciated the fact that they were still breathing. He’d done that for her.

A large, reddish-haired man standing over Obi turned to look when Shirayuki was dragged into the room. “A partner, Nanaki? When did that happen?” She was too preoccupied with Obi to pay much attention until he pulled off her headscarf. It caught on the gag, and he pried that loose at well. She shook her head free of his touch and looked up to glare, just to find him staring at her in disbelief.

She could see him fifteen years younger and a lot farther away. “Dad?” she whispered.

“Shirayuki,” he said, breaking into a grin. “You’re alive!”

Obi broke the breathless silence with a peal of laughter, from his place on the floor. “Only you, miss, only you!” One of his captors kneeled on him a bit harder, but it didn’t stop his amusement.

Her father untied her knees so she could stand on her own, then her elbows. He made no move to hug her, which Shirayuki appreciated. He may be her father, but he was also a stranger and her captor. She was standing on uncertain ground.

He turned to Obi’s guards. “Take him to the capital, they’ll be pleased to have him back.” Then he extended a hand to Shirayuki. “Will you come with us back to the village? We’ll make a place for you there, and you’ll be safe.” His eyes flicked back to Obi, as though he represented all the threats to Shirayuki.

Here was the moment she had to make her stand. Three steps forward, and she stood by Obi’s bound body. “No.” She turned to face her father. “I go where he goes.”

Safety in a mountain village was temptation indeed, more than he even knew. She could go back to being an herbalist, the life she loved with the rhythms of the garden and the pride of saving lives. But it wasn’t enough. She’d come too far for that.

“I love him.” She could hear Obi gasp behind her. This was not how she wanted him to know, but it was what she had to do. “I’ll follow him, even back to prison if I have to.”

Now it wasn’t just her father protesting. Obi choked on her name, and she was too afraid to look at him. She couldn’t deal with his reaction and stand off with her father at the same time. He’d have to wait.

Her father looked more than half guilty and the rest just tired. “I earned this, didn’t I? I feel like I owe my father an apology.” Done talking to himself, he refocused on Shirayuki. “Remind me to tell you later how your mother and I became outlaws. I’d be the worst hypocrite ever if I got in your way.” He sighed deeply. Obi’s bounty must have been a good one. “Hey Nanaki, ever thought of thief-catching? All the danger and excitement, far less chance of landing in prison.”

Obi’s voice was full of smiles. “I’m willing to entertain the idea, once I’m untied and get a few minutes alone with my lady here.”

Mukaze sighed again. “I regret this already. Go ahead, I know you’re already loose, talk to her already.” He waved off the other guards.

There was no sound, but whether it was a breath or a stillness in the air, somehow Shirayuki knew that Obi was close behind her. “Did you mean it?” He sounded so serious.

She whirled to face him. “I wouldn’t lie about something like that!”

A smile bloomed on his face. “No, you wouldn’t.” He looked in the direction Mukaze had gone. “You should take their offer. You’re not a criminal at heart. You could be a healer again, like you’re meant to be.”

She reached for his hand, fingers just catching at his. “Will you come with me if I do?” She hadn’t missed the fact that he’d barely responded to her confession yet. She’d bared her feelings for him, in the bluntest way possible, and all she’d received in turn was a gasp, a smile, and a change of subject.

“In a heartbeat. I told you the day we met what I thought of you, but you never responded and I just thought . . . you didn't want me.” She grabbed harder at his hand, pulling him toward her.

Bluntness seemed to be working well. “I want you, Obi.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and his eyes went dark. “Come with me.”

“Anywhere,” he answered, roughly but no louder. “I never really wanted a partner. All I wanted was you.”

Chapter Text

At the tower, he doesn't think much of it. The miss is cold and wet, his coat is dry. She needs it more than he does. She wraps it around herself, sleeves down to her elbows and collar at her chin, and thanks him. He looks down at her, a tiny snake of fire coiling around his spine, and the back of his mind says “mine?”

“Don't be silly,” he tells himself, and walks off to guard the door.

The day he reaches Lyrias, she steals his mask. He was a fearsome demon in it, but she's an adorable creature. She stands as tall as she can, and in her deepest voice says, “I have aliases and many secrets.” Then she collapses in giggles, happy he's there, and the fire stirs. It's been a constant companion this last year. “Mine,” it growls, and he pushes it back down.

“You know better,” he tells himself. They've had this conversation a few times.

An unexpected wind snatches away her hood, sending it twisting down the road. She's already on edge, here in Tanbarun, so he tears the scarf from around his neck and hides her hair before she really has time to react. She peeps at him from under the gray wool in surprise, and the dragon in his chest writhes. “Mine,” it roars, and he is momentarily deafened by how much he wants to touch her.

“It's not going to happen,” he tells himself. It isn't the wanting that’s killing him, it's the hope he can never quite crush out. The dragon whispers, “are you so sure?”

She's wearing his coat again, keeping warm while she makes tea. This time she's not wearing anything under it. She smiles over her shoulder at him, lips red and cheeks pink. He did that. “Mine,” his mind sighs contentedly, and for once he doesn't have to argue.

Chapter Text

“Is Zen technically my boss? They always say workplace romances are such a bad idea,” Shirayuki fretted, picking up a tray of beers.

“No, he isn't. And he's cute, and clearly interested in you. You should go.” Obi scooped strawberries into a blender.

Shirayuki couldn't answer him until the next drink order, two pina coladas. “But I can't. No babysitter for Sunday night.”

Another ten minutes, another round of beers for table fifteen. “I'm off Sunday, I can come over,” Obi volunteered.

That stopped Shirayuki in her tracks for the first time since the beginning of dinner rush. “Really? Ryuu would love to see you . . . But I can't ask you to do that.”

“You don't have to ask, I volunteered.” He pointed over her shoulder toward table nineteen. “You'd better go, they're looking impatient.” She grabbed the tray and all but ran.

She stewed over the idea for the next hour, shuttling food and drinks and credit cards. She wasn't even sure how she felt about going on a date. It had been nine years since she'd dated, since high school, before she was even old enough to drive. But once she found out she was pregnant, and even more so after her son was born, her priorities were Ryuu and school and working to support Ryuu and school. She’d clawed her way through high school and community college, and now she worked days at a greenhouse, which she loved but didn't quite pay the bills, and nights at the restaurant. She’d had friends once, but for so long she hadn’t fit into anyone’s categories. Too young for the other moms, too responsible for the partying co-workers, too much the mom for her high school friends. It was her and Ryuu, always just the two of them. With a little support from the co-workers who were willing to take her as she was.

Zen dropped into her life twice in one week. First he showed up at the greenhouse, desperate for four dozen potted camellias and ranting that his brother was going to kill him. Garrack hid in the back offices, leaving Shirayuki to get him calmed down, ply him with lukewarm tea, and reassure him that they had just what he needed. She just needed to know what color and what size. He’d kissed the air above her hand when he left with his plants, dirt from her work gloves smearing his immaculate cuffs.

Then he showed up again at the restaurant. He’d waved at her from the bar, then pulled her aside later to offer her a business card and a date. He’d claimed it was fate for him to run into her again, after he’d been thinking about her all week. It was kind of intoxicating, just thinking that someone like him could possibly be interested in her.

She fingered the card where it sat in her skirt pocket. Zen Wisteria, younger brother of and assistant to Izana Wisteria, the most high-profile, exclusive wedding planner in town and part-owner of the restaurant where she worked. She'd found a magazine article interviewing Zen, not in one of those dinky local newsprint business papers, but in a real glossy national magazine. He looked so naturally handsome in a suit. She’d been thinking about this call for two days now. If she was going to say yes, she really needed to stop putting it off.

She had a moment to breathe, so she tucked herself in a corner behind the bar where she’d be out of Obi’s way. “I can see you smiling back there, you’re going to call him,” he singsonged, tossing out napkins for two young women who’d just sat down. Between his charm, his tight shirts, and his unexpected tricks, the bar was always full when Obi was working. The occasional spun bottle or flipped shaker just made him more popular, and his gloves were his signature.

“Okay,” she said at last, and he paused in the middle of rummaging for clean margarita glasses. “If you’ll come stay with Ryuu on Sunday, I’ll do it.”

“Excellent,” he replied. “What time do I need to be there, and what does Ryuu eat on pizza?”

One pleasant date led to another, and a second to a third. Zen was taken aback to learn about Ryuu, but by this point aback was really the best Shirayuki felt she could hope for. It wasn’t distance or total abandonment. He asked about Ryuu a few times, cautiously, and she carefully told him about his school, his interests, how much he loved plants just like she did. Zen didn’t seem to be in any hurry to meet him, though, and Shirayuki didn’t push.

He brought her flowers every time, bouquets carefully chosen for colors and meaning. Ryuu enjoyed the challenge of identifying the varieties, origins, and other uses of all the flowers. He also liked Obi coming to stay with him. He approved of Garrack, too, who watched him when Shirayuki was at the restaurant, because she knew even more about plants than Shirayuki did and brought over the best books for him to read. But Obi listened to him. He could just sit there and let Ryuu explain things and draw diagrams all night. After his second visit, Ryuu started asking daily for Obi to come play with him. Sometimes she wished he wanted kids his own age to play with, but they’d never quite interested him. He said he liked grownups because they didn’t get too close to him and they didn’t bother him all the time when he was thinking.

Obi didn't seem to mind, either, and refused to let her pay him for babysitting. “You're giving up so much of your time for me!” Shirayuki complained.

“I wouldn't do it if I didn't enjoy it, miss,” he responded, still lounging on her sagging brown sofa. She and Ryuu could sit there and read comfortably together, and yet somehow Obi managed to make it look too small for just him.

“You enjoy eating pizza with my eight-year-old, putting him to bed, then playing on your phone until I come home. This is honestly what you want to do with your evenings?” Sarcasm could barely encompass her disbelief. Ryuu was brilliant and he made her so proud, but he was not . . . easy. He got upset by things that didn't always make sense to other people, and that made him hard to predict. But she had to admit Obi was really good at reading people in general. He watched and he listened and he just knew what they needed. He was an invaluable friend. Almost too good to be true. “No, I insist you accept some kind of payment. I can’t just keep owing you favors.”

“That would interfere with my fiendish plot,” he complained, steepling his fingers dramatically. “I have nefarious plans for you once I have collected so many favors that you can no longer protest.” She didn’t even have to respond, just raised an eyebrow. He was being silly when she genuinely wanted to understand. “I don’t even know, miss. I like helping you. I like Ryuu, and I like how happy you look these days. And it’s not like I would be doing anything better at home. Probably playing on my phone in my underwear. Only sacrifice is here I have to keep my clothes on.” He was smirking now, teasing her. She flushed, unable to avoid the mental image.

He shifted his knee, and she realized she’d zoned out staring at his thighs. Her gaze snapped to his face, and he raised his eyebrows. Oh no, he had to know what she’d been thinking about. If he said anything she’d throw him out, really she would. He didn’t, just smirking a bit. He was used to being ogled. It paid well in tips. Just, he’d never caught her at it before.

As embarrassed as she was, there was still something comfortable about this. Just the two of them laughing in her living room, neither one in a rush to be anywhere else. “If you don’t have to hurry out, would you like to stay a bit? Play some cards or something?”

“I’d like that, miss.” His eyes softened as she got up to find the deck. “I have to warn you, though, I take no prisoners.”

“Neither do I,” she snapped back. Just for that, she pulled out her grandfather's cribbage board. It was her favorite game and she rarely got to play anymore. They’d played all the time and by the end she beat him more times than not. She’d teach Obi to play if she had to, but then she was going to skunk him so badly he’d be seeing spots.

His smile went kind of sideways when she turned around with the board. Maybe she wasn’t going to have to teach him after all. “For cribbage, we need drinks. Point me to your liquor cabinet.”

Her “liquor cabinet” consisted of a bottle of wine she’d received from Garrack for her birthday last year, maybe half an inch of rum, and an ancient bottle of tequila she didn’t remember owning. “This’ll do,” he decided, then went rummaging in her refrigerator. In the freezer, he started laughing. “Miss.” he held up a can of frozen margarita mix, scandalized. “I can’t believe you. You work at the best bar in town and this is the best you can do.”

“You know I don’t drink much. It’s like lemonade,” she defended herself.

“Sure it is, miss,” he humored her. “Do you have a blender or are we having this on the rocks?”

A quarter of a frozen margarita later, Shirayuki had brain freeze and was losing soundly at cribbage. As advertised, Obi played cutthroat, stealing half her points and grinning triumphantly. She was on track to get decisively skunked. She took another sip of her margarita, gritting her teeth at the cold and humiliation, and turned over one last useless crib. No points. Game over. She laid her forehead on the table, letting it cool her skin while her hair hid her face.

Gentle fingertips pushed her hair aside, and she turned to place her cheek flat. Obi was smiling at her amiably down the length of his arm. “That’s three non-pizza meals you owe me. Rematch?”

As he was pulling his arm back, her eyes caught a mark on the inside of his bicep. “What’s that?” He turned his arm over so she could see. “A tattoo?” It appeared to be an anchor and some kind of fish, small but dark.

“One of them, yeah. It’s kind of traditional. Got talked into it at the end of my first tour.”

She stared at him, barely knowing where to start. “Tour?” She filed away the existence of more tattoos for another conversation.

He stared back. “In the Navy?”

“You were in the Navy?”

He sighed and sat back. “How do you not know this, miss?”

“You never mentioned it?”

“Huh.” He sounded skeptical but she really thought she would have remembered if he'd ever said such a thing. He rattled off a clearly memorized summary. “I joined up when I turned eighteen, spent six years doing things I was very good at but I prefer not to talk about, then quit. I got my eyebrows burned off one too many times and decided I was done with things blowing up in my face. So now I’m doing what makes me happy.” He paused for a breath. “Well, that explains one thing at least. Never challenge a sailor to cards unless you’re ready for a war.”

Those were fighting words, and Shirayuki couldn’t let that lie. She took another sip of her half-melted drink and held her hand out for the cards. “Rematch. I’m dealing.”

Two games later, her glass was empty and she’d never even come close to beating him. He read off the list of his winnings. “Four non-pizza meals, one homemade pizza, a backrub, a handmade scarf, color to be determined, a trip to the zoo with the two of you, and one, I quote, ‘super romantic date.’ I want to state for the record that that was entirely your idea.”

She huffed, getting up to put away the cards. The room tilted a bit and she steadied herself on the table. Obi shifted, ready to jump up and catch her. She glared at him. “I’m fine.” She made it to the shelves without tripping, then collapsed on the sofa.

She raised an arm to beckon to Obi. “Come here.” He walked over and sat next to her, no unsteadiness in his gait. That was frustrating. He’d had at least four times as much to drink as she had. She leaned onto his shoulder. “No driving. Stay here.” She clung to the arm she was leaning on. Not going to let him go.

“I can sleep on the sofa, but you should go to bed, miss . . . “ He trailed off.

He was bigger than the sofa. That was silly. “You take the bed, I’ll sleep here.”

“I’m not going to throw you out of your own bed.”

She was too sleepy to care anymore. The sofa was soft and Obi was warm and his voice was so nice. She might have mumbled “Whatever,” or it might have been in her head.

She woke up in bed to the sound of breathing. Her mouth tasted terrible and she’d never taken off her makeup the night before. She was still wearing the t-shirt and yoga pants she'd worn to play cards with Obi last night. Obi. He must have put her to bed, but did he leave?

She opened her eyes, and that answered her question. No, he was asleep on the other side of her bed, on top of the covers and without a pillow. She must have been tired not to notice all night.

He must have been tired too. His face was ground into her quilt, eyelids twitching with dreams. It was fun to see him not so controlled for once, not putting on his work face or showing off, just sleeping so naturally, so calmly. She couldn’t wait to tease him for the lines he’d have on his face when he woke up. His hand twitched once, lying lax on the covers between them.

She slipped out to clean up and check on Ryuu, and closed her bedroom door behind her. Ryuu was happily entertaining himself and pleased to hear Obi had stayed the night. She had to forbid him to wake up Obi while she was in the shower.

She didn't think she took that long, but when she got out Obi was gone. “He said to tell you bye and thank you for letting him stay,” Ryuu told her.

She didn't see or hear from Obi again until the weekend. He worked early shifts, just missing her, and his responses to her messages were brief and uninformative. Her Saturday restaurant shift was at a wedding in the banquet room instead of the main house, and he was manning the bar. All week she'd been wracking her brain for what she could have done wrong to make him avoid her, and she didn't know how to apologize if she didn't know what for. But she was running just late enough that by the time she had a moment, guests were arriving and he was occupied.

She was clearing a table of empty glasses when she noticed Zen leaning on the bar, chatting closely with Obi. Neither had ever mentioned to her that they knew each other. Another mystery she didn't have time for, lugging her loaded tray back to the kitchen.

Kai, one of the other servers, pulled her aside in the kitchen. “If you like to play cards, you should come to our poker night. We play on Wednesdays, and it's a lot of fun!”

“What makes you think I like cards?” That seemed like a very random invitation. He’d barely ever talked to her before.

“Oh, I heard Obi telling the blond guy about it. We'd love for you to come, we just play for pretzels so nobody goes broke.”

Obi was telling Zen things about her? Things she liked? “I . . . Don't play poker much, sorry, I need to go.” She grabbed a pitcher of iced tea and headed for the banquet room.

Obi was cleaning up the bar, cocktail hour being over. She felt completely betrayed. Was he just being a spy for Zen? Why did Zen even need help? She wanted to go over and yell at him, but then she'd end up crying, and she still had a whole wedding dinner to work. Work first. Everything else later. She shut her mouth and turned toward the banquet to go refill glasses.

Zen found her just as the bride and groom started their first dance. He was dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. She really wasn't interested in talking right now, but Zen wasn't taking the hint. “The looks on their faces right here are one of my favorite parts of a wedding. They look so happy and relieved.” He tugged at her sleeve gently and leaned in closer. “Think you can sneak away for a dance with me later?”

She continued filling glasses. “No, I need to do my job. That wouldn't be fair to everyone else.” She walked to the next table and he didn't follow, staring after her like a kicked puppy. She'd explain after she yelled at Obi. She needed to get this out of her system, and she wasn't ready for Zen to see her that angry.

Obi did agree through texts to come to dinner the next night. She had debts to discharge, and Ryuu had been begging for Obi all week. When she answered the door, she only had just long enough to realize that he looked nervous under the charming facade before Ryuu took possession of him. He relaxed as Ryuu led him off to see his cactus flowers, so the problem was clearly her. That was fair enough. She was very ready to be a problem.

Dinner was hamburger stroganoff because she knew he wasn't a fan of mushrooms, and she piled his plate high with green beans. As soon as he sat down, his pleasant smile wilted and he prodded the beans with his fork. “I can tell when I'm being punished.” He looked up, meeting her eyes. “I'm very sorry I invaded your space like that, I didn't mean to. I was just going to tuck you in and leave, but I was tired and I leaned across to adjust your sheet, and the next thing I knew I woke up in your bed and it was morning and you were gone. It's not an excuse, I know.”

That was not at all what she expected. She'd put that away in her memory as a pleasant moment and moved on. “That's not something you have to apologize for, Obi. I did offer you the bed, after all.”

He looked dubious. “Then what did I do to earn the mushrooms?”

She answered the question with a question. “How long have you known Zen?” She took a bite of green beans, barely steamed, just the way Ryuu liked them.

“To chat with, a couple of years. As an actual friend, about six months?” Suspicious was starting to creep in, and he looked like he was expecting to get slapped. Well, he should know better. She’d never do that in front of her son.

“And how long have you been passing him information about me?”

“He asked me about you just before he asked you out. Pointed you out as a beautiful woman with a calm and capable attitude and wanted to know if I knew you. He really wanted to make a good impression, so I gave him a few suggestions. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d like him. He’s a really good guy, generous and loyal and fun to be around. He just gets a bit wrapped up in his expectations sometimes, and has an incomprehensible relationship with his brother.” He put a big forkful of stroganoff in his mouth, chewing valiantly.

Put that way it wasn’t so bad, just a friend helping out a friend. But that was months ago. That didn’t excuse now. “But what about after that? Kai caught you telling him about cribbage, I know about that.” She took a drink to keep from crying. “I’m not sure if I can trust either one of you right now. You’ve been so kind to me and I just don’t understand why, and I don’t know what’s really Zen and what he’s just said to impress me.”

“He’s genuine, miss. He really is head over for heels for you.”

She didn’t miss that he didn’t defend himself, but she let it go. “I’m not going to be offended if you pick out the mushrooms, Obi. Just see if Ryuu wants them.” They finished dinner mostly in silence, and she welcomed the chance to think. Her initial anger had cooled, but something still wasn’t adding up and she wasn’t ready to forgive and forget just yet.

They made it through dinner, then Ryuu dragged Obi off again while she washed plates. If only they could get a nicer place, with a dishwasher and a garden. Every year she looked, and every year there just wasn’t enough money. Ryuu’s school was expensive, but there was no compromising on that.

After Ryuu’s bedtime, Obi went to leave, but Shirayuki caught his hand at the door. “You didn’t tell me why.”

His fingers went stiff in hers, and he sighed. “I . . thought I was helping. I just want you to be happy, miss.”

With that her anger roared back anew, irrationally. “You keep saying that!” She was too loud, so she lowered her tone to avoid upsetting Ryuu. “You keep saying that, and I just don’t understand. Why is my happiness so important to you?”

He shrugged carelessly, but it was clearly an act. “It just is. It makes me happy to see you happy.” Whatever the truth was, he wasn’t ready to tell her.

“You don’t get to decide how I’m going to be happy, Obi. You’re done spying for him.” It wasn’t a question. Obi nodded. “Then let me know when you can come for dinner again. I promise no mushrooms next time.”

Garrack watched Ryuu an extra night so she could see Zen again. He took responsibility for pumping Obi for information and apologized beautifully, but somehow she still wasn’t quite satisfied. The effects of Obi’s coaching became more obvious over the next couple of weeks, as Zen’s natural instincts became more clear. He really didn’t accept the constraints on her life at all. He lived for big romantic gestures: surprises, weekend getaways, carefully choreographed gifts. She hated surprises, and given the amount of scheduling required to get through the week, trips were absolute nonstarters. He still hadn’t met Ryuu. Gifts just pointed up the difference between his situation and hers and made her anxious.

Obi looked pained when she told him things were over with Zen. She was disappointed, of course, she thought Zen was great and he’d make someone very happy when he found the right romantic. And she was just fine before him, she was going to be just fine after. But Obi seemed to feel like he still needed to apologize for something, and it really got on her nerves. He was her friend too, she could use some attention, distraction, pointing out hot men at the bar that she’d never actually talk to, anything but the tiptoeing and contrition she was getting from him.

At least he seemed more like himself when he asked her if she wanted a night to herself. It had been her regular date night with Zen, he was used to coming over anyway, he could get Ryuu to bed and she could go do whatever she wanted. “Go to the bookstore or something,” he suggested. She scoffed. Surely she could have more fun than that, with a few hours on her own.

He had a bag with him when he showed up, which was new. Was he planning to stay the night again? Or maybe he’d found something better than his phone to kill time with. She blew Ryuu a kiss and headed out to have an exciting night on the town, but it was soon apparent that she was mistaken about her ability to entertain herself. She was flipping through a gardening book in the Barnes and Noble coffeeshop when she realized how much happier she’d be at home.

It was funny that one of the two people she trusted most with her son had made such a terrible first impression. The other waitresses warned her about Obi on her first day. “He’s such a heartbreaker, everyone falls for him,” they said. But when she literally ran into him walking around a corner on her orientation tour, he put a hand on her shoulder to steady her, his eyes lit up, and he hit her with the cheesiest pick-up line she’d ever heard. “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

She stared at her guide, who stared right back. This was their notoriously smooth irresistible bartender? She stepped back to look at him better, craning her neck. A black shirt outlined his form, and either it was very flattering or he had impressive muscle definition. He had a sharp chin, clean-shaven, a slightly upturned nose, artfully mussed short black hair. A sizable scar above one eyebrow gave him a natural smirk. He wasn’t handsome, exactly, but he was striking. Then his gold eyes locked with hers, and oh. There it was. That was the danger, right there. She tore her gaze from his, rejoining her guide to walk past him, and to make her point, she said “I thought you said he was charming,” as they walked away. It took at least five minutes of hiding in the restroom for her heart to slow down and her blush to subside.

She avoided him for two weeks, glad she was a hostess and never had to deal with bar orders. Obi eventually managed to chase her down to apologize for being weird, and by the time she was promoted to waitstaff, they’d managed a polite conversation or two. Soon thereafter they were talking all the time, and some days she managed to forget the effect he had on other people. Either she was immune or he never turned that look on her again, to her relief. And now he was in her apartment, watching over her sleeping son, and she’d rather be there with him than out by herself. No matter how pretty the gardens in the book were.

Riding home on the bus, the only other passengers were a passionate and rather shameless couple. The guy reminded her of Obi a bit, probably just the hair, but the thought gave her questions. What if Obi fell in love with someone? He’d definitely be that guy, necking on the bus on the way home from a movie, not babysitting for her anymore.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. She was a terrible friend. She should be hoping for his happiness, not thinking of her convenience, but she knew that if she saw him with someone else like this, she would . . . hurt. She’d be painfully jealous. She’d feel betrayed. When had she gotten so possessive of him without noticing? She had no right to feel like that about him. “And what are you going to do about it?” she murmured to herself.

Obi was on the sofa as usual, but instead of his phone he hid a book in the cushions as Shirayuki kicked off her shoes. The bag he’d brought in lay empty on the table with a handful of unfamiliar books. She picked one up. “Cacti and Succulents.” The one underneath was about seed preservation. The one at the bottom of the pile was about bonsai. All of them had library markings on the spines, and she’d never seen them before.

He was a bit embarrassed when she looked over for an explanation. “I thought he could use some new reading material, but I didn’t know what would interest him the most, so I got him a bunch of different ones. I think the one about medicine is in bed with him.” She just stared, so he kept talking. “I’ve never had a library card before; I had no idea it was this easy. They have to go back two weeks from Tuesday, so I thought I’d pick them up the weekend before that. And then I can get him some new ones, if he wants more.”

If, he said. As if there were any question. Stunned, she walked to the sofa, and held out her hands to him. When he placed his on hers, she hooked her fingers into his and pulled. He didn’t move, watching her yank on him with a faint troublemaker’s smile. He had eight inches on her and probably almost twice her weight. The least he could do was cooperate. Finally she just had to ask. “Obi, get up, I need to hug you now and I’m not going to sit on you to do it.” The retort flashed in his eyes, but didn’t make it to his mouth. He got up slowly, and she wrapped her arms around his chest. His heart thumped under her cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “I don't know what we'd do without you.”

He breathed in sharply, a prelude to saying something, then let the breath out instead. Loosening her grip, she leaned back so he could see her face. “You don't have to censor yourself for me. I know you flirt with everyone but me, but I’d rather hear what you want to say. I think I’ve known you long enough I can handle it now.”

She released him, and he collapsed into his original spot, emotions flickering across his face. She sat next to him, then dug out the book biting into her hip, the one he'd hidden earlier. Another library book, but this one wasn’t about plants. “The SEAL’s Passion,” she read. He snatched it from her hand.

“I was curious,” he defended himself. Shirayuki wouldn't have thought he was capable of blushing, but apparently she was mistaken. “Everything about it is so wrong, but . . . I need to finish it now.” He laid it precisely on the sofa arm where she couldn't reach. Still looking at the book, he said in a quiet voice, “The flirting is an act for everyone else. With you, I'd mean it.” He looked at her sideways, uncharacteristically shy.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” That didn’t sound like a bad thing to her. She wanted him to mean it, so much. She laid her hands on his knee, turning toward him. “You said you wanted to see me happy. You make me happy, Obi. Stay, be part of our lives. You’re the closest Ryuu has ever had to a father. If you think you might, someday, want to be that for real, then stay.” She was coming on way too strong. Who would accept that? But she couldn’t stop her mouth. She curled her legs under her, voice rising a note in panic. “Or we could start with the date I owe you. Or the zoo?”

He turned back to face her, and his smile was small but genuine. “I like that. I like all of it. But we can start with the zoo, if you'd like.”

That was good enough. She felt like an open window, sunshine streaming through her. Unable to resist, she twisted around and up until she was nose to nose with Obi. For a second, they stared at each other, so close, then in unison they closed their eyes and melted into each other. Obi’s arms were tight around her, sliding her onto his lap, and he smiled into the kiss. She ran a hand up into his hair, and he sighed against her lips. She pulled back to let him breathe.

Being so happy made her reckless. “What I'd like is for you to tell me about the other tattoos.”

His eyes opened wide, and he laughed, relieved and unguarded. “I've never had that line take so long before!” He held her tight against his chest, and she laid her head on his shoulder. Everything was right with the world. He was laughing and she was about to float away with contentment. “But I’d prefer to save that for show and tell.” His voice dropped, and she shivered. “You’re just going to have to be patient.”

She made a show of pouting, trying to cover up her blush, and realized she’d made a mistake of logic. “Um, there might be a problem with this super romantic date plan. If you’re with me, we’re right back to not having a babysitter.” She looked up, cheek sliding along his shirt.

Obi was unfazed, smiling down at her. His eyes promised that she would have nothing to complain about. “Who said we were going to go anywhere?”

Chapter Text

Obi always assumed he was going to kill his soulmate. What else could he think, an assassin with ”Who are you?” tattooed in delicate script in the center of his chest. He’d heard that phrase more times than he could count. He possibly might have heard “No!” and “What?” more often, because most of his victims didn’t have time or breath for three whole words, but he’d long since stopped even reacting.

The day he was slashed across the chest he’d thought that perhaps that was the end of wondering. Even if he didn’t die then and there, the words would be gone. But the question persisted, fading back into contrast across the knotted scar. Fate clearly wasn’t done with him yet.

Even after his life started over, he still heard the question everywhere he went. The answer was a name (one that was nearly his), not a blade anymore, but his answers never got the reaction he’d started to hope for again without conscious decision.

The day that Suzu and Yuzuri showed off their paired phrases and told the story of their meeting (involving a case of mistaken identity and resulting in a truly impressive block of profanity immortalized on Suzu’s bicep), Shirayuki was quiet.

“Is something wrong?” He asked her, walking back through the chilly evening to her rooms. He’d known her long enough to tell the difference between the silence that meant to leave her alone and the silence of her waiting.

“I wonder, sometimes . . . about my soulmate.” She sounded almost embarrassed about it.

“I’m sure Zen is doing just fine, Miss. It won’t seem like that long until you get to see him again.”

She looked even more upset. “He’s not . . . “ She couldn’t finished the sentence, but Obi got the gist, and the world tilted a few degrees.

He was too off-balance for tact. “Not your soulmate? How? You . . .”

“Why do you think his brother objects so much?”

He’d always assumed Zen’s leisurely pace of courting came from the confidence that they were bound, that everything had to work out in the end, that they were meant to be together. But no, there was no excuse. It would serve him right if Shirayuki’s soulmate showed up out of nowhere and swept her away. No, that was an unworthy thought. He wanted them both to be happy, the way they deserved.

While he was fuming at Zen, Shirayuki had been dragging her feet and pondering. “I just wish . . . if I knew . . . it would be easier to make a choice. I’d know what I was passing up to be with him.” She kicked at a chunk of snow, which rattled into the road and broke. “I think I’m scared of what could happen when I find out.”

Without any logical process or reasoning, a suspicion slithered through his brain. He’d never seen her words. They’d both been talking to Zen at the same time they spoke to each other, but her first words to him might just have been . . . his. What if the reason he needed to be near her, the way he felt like he was missing a piece of himself the longer she was out of his sight, wasn’t just because he was hopelessly in love with her? He dredged his brain for his first word to her. It was a compliment, he was sure of that. He remembered smiling and applauding, there in the tree, ready to take the blame for his client and instead finding a new calling. His inexplicable insistence on staying, the uncharacteristic possessiveness he felt about her, the calm he felt in her presence and nowhere else; all these things suddenly blended into a new and terrifying whole. He had to ask, to know.

“Miss, can I ask? About your words?” Did she feel it too? All the times she’d looked relieved to see him, the times she expected his presence when even he didn’t know he was going to follow her. Was it just friendship, or was it a bond?

She was still looking at the ground, but one hand came up to clutch at her hood. She did that when she was self-conscious about her hair. “Just one word, really. I’ve heard it so many times when people see my hair. They look at me and go ‘wonderful!’ and my stomach turns.”

That was it, that was the word. He’d been giddy watching her best Haruka, and he’d been caught so handily, and the whole situation was just so delightful he hadn’t held back in his praise. “It’s not always about your hair, miss.” She turned to face him, eyes wide. “It wasn’t when I said it.” There was no way to keep the warmth out of his voice.

They were standing in front of her building now. Everything lined up, everything matched. She stared at him for a moment, then grabbed his hand and towed him through the door. His heart leaped and he tried to still it. There was no way to know if this would prove a blessing or a curse.

The moment her door shut behind them, she demanded, “Let me see it.”

“You’ve seen it before, miss.” Taking his shirt off made him vulnerable.

She stared at his boots. “I saw where it was, but I didn’t . . . exactly . . . look at it?” He smiled at her in spite of himself, his innocent miss, but her eyes rose to his as her hand drifted up to his chest, fingers just brushing the button of his coat. “Please?”

All laughter and teasing fled him. Mesmerized by her, he nodded slowly, then held his breath as she undid the buttons one by one, then slid his coat back over his shoulders. He let it drop, then intercepted her hands as they reached for the hem of his shirt. He got there first, and watched her eyes as he pulled it up. He couldn’t resist just a little muscle flex to watch her embarrassment, but then she started seeing scars and her eyes settled in that space between angry and determined where she was most unpredictable. Finally, the shirt reached his chin and his full chest was bare to her, scar, words, and all.

It was her handwriting. He could see it in her eyes, no need to ask. It had been right in front of him, in the mirror all this time, and he could kick himself but really what would he have done? One path, to not say anything, would have brought them to the same moment but with the added guilt of having hidden it from her. To reveal it right away might have shattered her budding relationship with Master. But realistically, Obi knows what he would have done. He would have run far and fast and never know what it felt like to love her, to have Master’s trust and Ryuu’s admiration and all the friends in Lyrias who had no idea what he really was. All the people who made him feel like he was more than just a tool. He opened his mouth to say something, fill the quiet with some kind of words and get her to let him put his shirt back on, but she interrupted.

“You can’t see mine,” she stated, voice and posture defensive. From the way she angled toward him, it must be on her back somewhere.

He shifted, ready to placate her, then gasped as her palm landed flat against his chest. Her hand couldn’t quite cover the whole sentence, but the scar burned under her chilly fingers. Usually touches there were muted, but tonight he felt like he could pick out her fingerprints. Another side effect of the bond, it must be. An idle thought about what her lips would feel like there went spinning off into the void, and he refused to chase it. Instead he dropped his shirt back into place, Shirayuki retracting her hand to cup it with the other against her chest.

“I’m not . . . going to ask anything of you, miss.” She looked like she needed the reassurance. He’d never lied to her and wasn’t about to start, but he didn’t know how he felt yet, much less what she wanted. “I will be by your side as long as you want me, in whatever role you need me. You said you wished you knew so you could decide and now you do.” His voice cracked embarrassingly. The problem was he knew too. He knew she could love him, the one thing he couldn’t let himself imagine.

She already knew him too well, intercepting his glance at the window and the tension in his stance. “We can talk about this more tomorrow, Obi.” She shifted as she leaned down for his coat, placing herself between him and the window. “Just don’t disappear, please? Don’t run away from me?”

“I could never, miss. I’ll be there tomorrow when you want me.” He’d be there forever if she wanted him. He hoped she would.

Chapter Text

Obi was talkative in bed. For some reason Shirayuki hadn’t expected that. The man who delighted in answering “I wonder” to all personal questions would actually tell her stories when she tucked herself against his chest and tangled her legs with his. Her fingers would trace aimless patterns on his skin, and his voice would carry her away.

So when a trick of angle and light unearthed a perplexing memory, she waited for the right moment to bring it up. His heartbeat slowed under her ear, and she asked, “Where could I have seen you as a child, Obi?” His hands paused in their circuit around her back. “I just remember your face, not enough to tell what was going on.” She could see a child's face, jaw softer, no scars, longer hair, but the eyes were unmistakable.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, slow and focused, and she couldn't help but feel he was stalling. “Seeing things, miss? I must be doing something right.”

Her breath came out in a half-giggle. That was no lie. She was so content lying on his chest, fingers and lips exploring lazily in the residual warmth. No force on earth could make her take her skin from his, not when he felt so perfect. But still he wasn’t going to get away with distracting her. “I mean it. I didn’t imagine it, it’s a memory. I can tell the difference.”

He huffed, now gently teasing a knot out of her hair. “You laughed when I brought it up before. I’d given up on you remembering.”

She squirmed her way up to where she could nuzzle his jaw, then whispered in his ear, “Tell me the story, then. I’ll believe you.”

He hummed contentedly. “Your mother kidnapped me off the street.”

Shirayuki propped herself up to look him in the eyes. “She did not.”

“No, but I thought she was. My uncles always warned me I was going to get kidnapped and sold if I wasn’t careful. She was so fast, though. One minute I was begging, and the next I was in a house, sitting in a chair, and there was an apple on the table in front of me. It didn’t have a single rotten spot. I almost cried.”

Her eyes stung at the image, and she burrowed her face into the side of his neck. “She kept bringing me food, and there was this pretty little redheaded girl sitting there across the table from me, just watching me stuff my face. You couldn’t have been more than a few years old, maybe three or four? When I stopped to take a breath, you showed me a flower you’d been keeping it in your pocket. And you asked me if I was a cat. You looked so confused.” She felt his cheek pull against her ear as he smiled.

“I did not,” Shirayuki protested, popping up to look him in the face. “You’re making that up.”

His chest vibrated under her as he laughed. “And here you said you’d believe me. You called me ‘kitty’ the whole time I was there. Your mother gave me a scarf and offered me a job, said if I wanted to stay and work on the farm, I could live with you. Can you imagine, I could have been a farmer?”

“So why didn’t you?” He’d never told such a long story about his past before. She was not about to let him drop the thread.

“I actually accepted, and she made me a spot in the barn for the night, with two blankets and my new scarf and my own cup of water in case I got thirsty. But the more I thought about it, the more I decided it was all too good to be true. Nobody actually did nice things like that for people like me. So I took the scarf and stole one of the blankets and ran off back to my uncles.”

What would it have been like if he’d stayed? If he’d trusted them just a bit more? After her mother died and her father sent her away, he would have still grown up there in the village, a farmer. His only scars would be from accidents, not violence. She might never have known him, for all he’d have been so much closer, a forgotten childhood friend or just someone passed in the street. She hated to be thankful for the life he’d endured, but it had brought him to her.

When the tears fell, Obi pushed her hair back and cupped her cheek. “This isn’t a sad story. Your family’s kindness saved my life several times over. The scarf certainly did that winter, and there were times that remembering their kindness gave me hope for a better life.”

That didn’t stop the tears, but she could smile again. She kissed him on the cheek, gently, and he hummed. Her skin had cooled, the warmth of earlier subsided. Perhaps it was time to do something about that. With a deliberate slide, she pulled herself up and ran her fingers into his hair. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said against his lips, then covered his mouth with hers.

Chapter Text

Obi never even draws his lightsaber when the stormtroopers come for them. His arms are occupied, and he refuses to let go.

*

The Jedi Archives are empty, even the filing droids going about their business inconspicuous and hushed. Everyone has already fled for their lives, or at least chosen not to end them here. Vader is at the gates; the Temple is in flames. Across the galaxy, Jedi are snuffed out like candle flames. He can feel the loss shivering through the Force.

But in Archivist Shirayuki’s office a light still glows, just as he knew it would. She has work to do, and she never runs. She's faced down every problem that's ever thwarted her, defeated it head on. There's very little hope left, but his place is there by her side. She turns at his step, a tiny spark of fear dissolving into relief as she recognizes him. She didn't want to be alone either. He hopes he's enough.

*

His lightsaber hangs heavy by his side, untouched. Kiki and Mitsuhide shake his hand, two halves of the same whole as always. Zen embraces him, and nobody says a word about his choice. He can hear the bark of heavy blasters at the doors.

*

Two standard years on Lyrias go by all too fast. Two long, piercing winters and short, misty summers, two years out from under the eye of his master. He's used to hard work, but not so much to responsibility, the title of knight hanging on him like an ill-fitting cape. But he’s the same to her as he’s always been, a shield, a strong back, a listening ear. Sometimes a restraining bolt. She calls him her best friend and he tries not to want more. She's destined for better things, and her success is all he will allow himself to desire.

*

A normal day, nothing to make it special but spending time with Shirayuki. His elbow brushes hers as she chops greens; he reaches over her for dried peppers. It's too comfortable. She is home in a way nowhere else ever has been.

*

Obi’s heart stops when his master says Lyrias has been placed under quarantine. Their assignment is to reroute orbital traffic, but his master looks the other way for Obi to run the blockade to Shirayuki. He's there when they find the source of the contagion, uncovering secrets side by side in the cave alight with glowing poisonous flowers. There's nowhere he'd rather be.

*

He places his hand over her mouth, too sickened to listen any further. She wants to just forgive him, after what he did, after what he almost became. She was the shining red thread that kept him from falling to the Dark Side, the thought of her disappointment the only thing that held him back, and here she is trying to thank him. It’s more than he can stand.

*

The kidnapper gasps as Obi slams him against the tree, Obi’s vibroblade slicing the bark by his ear with a barely tangible whine. He wants to tear into him, carve out answers one way or another. “Where is she?” His voice is a lever, prying into the man’s mind and wrenching it open. The Force twists away from his will, and he can hear his master's voice telling him to be calm. He's far too angry to listen now, grasping with everything he has to force the power he needs. He’ll follow her as far as it takes, get her back no matter what he has to do. Leaving her to her fate isn’t an answer he’s willing to accept.

*

His master isn't happy about Shirayuki’s mission. After all the effort he'd gone through to arrange her passage from Tanbarun to Coruscant and a job at the temple, for her to be sent back so soon? He can hear Zen mumbling mantras to himself when he thinks Obi isn't listening.

Obi thinks he's helping, wagering a bodyguard position on the outcome of a duel. Surely if his master wants to go badly enough, he'll come through. But Zen stands down long before the battle is decided and agrees to send Obi. It’s a lot of responsibility for an apprentice. He’s eager to prove himself.

*

His master’s explicitly forbidden him to bother the archives staff, but the little redhead wobbles and slumps and before Obi knows it he has a Holocron cradled in one arm and a half-conscious librarian in the other. The archive swirls with green, fractals leafing out and swallowing themselves in the depths of its light, but it’s the simple green of her eyes that arrests his attention. She’s warm and so light and she relaxes into his arm, and he can do nothing but stare as he holds her. She flushes and pulls herself to her feet, and his heart floods with disappointment. He wasn’t ready to let go yet.

Chapter Text

It had to be somewhere. She’d already torn apart her desk, her backpack, and her purse. She’d checked the lost and found in the department office and retraced her last day’s worth of steps. Shirayuki’s life was hectic enough with her planner in hand. With it gone, she just didn’t know what to do. There was no knowing what she was going to miss.

1 - I always smile when he is smiling. I can't help it.

She’d tried backing it up in an app, but that took so much work. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done it. Her phone had birthdays, this semester’s classes, and possibly her next dentist appointment, but everything else was just gone.

2 - He pretends I’m not hurting his feet when we dance and I step all over him.

Not to mention the other odds and ends she’d noted in there over time. Her locker combination for the health center. Shidan’s home phone number, just in case. Obi’s clothing sizes, for shopping purposes. His birthday was coming up right after hers.

3 - His sense of humor is inappropriate and juvenile, but never mean, and he can always make me laugh when I need it.

And worst of all, the List.

4 - Can carry me like I weigh nothing at all.

It was a private book. Nobody else was ever supposed to see anything she wrote in there. Well, Yuzuri had seen some of it, but nobody other than her.

5 - He has absolutely delicious arms. (Yuzuri, that is not what this list is for!) Am I wrong? (No.)

The kettle whistled and she filled her mug. She could take a few minutes to sit, drink her tea, and make a plan. Or at the very least, stop panicking. She’d gotten as far as realizing she didn’t have anywhere to write down the list of people she needed to call to fill in the blanks, when a key grated in the lock. She really needed to put WD-40 on her shopping list. Which was in the planner too.

6 - Fantastic abs, too. (Yuzuri, stop it!) I’m still not wrong.

Obi walked through the door like a condemned man. Seeing her at the table, he breathed in, unzipped his coat, and pulled out her planner. Dread froze her from snatching it from his hands. Why did he look so guilty?

7 - Gives very comforting hugs, when I can get close enough.

He set it carefully on the table in front of her. “I heard you were looking for this. I’m sorry I took it, I thought I’d have it back before you got up.” Shirayuki raised her eyebrows and just waited for him to finish the explanation. “Yuzuri thought it would help us find you a present. I knew it was a bad idea but you know how persuasive she is.”

8 - His handwriting is so bad even he can’t read it. That is more endearing than it should be.

Well, if he’d gone digging for her secret hopes and dreams, he’d probably found more than he was looking for. Certainly more than a birthday present’s worth. She still couldn’t tell how he was reacting, beyond apologetic and embarrassed.

9 - He listens to me talk, even when I know I’m boring him. He even asks questions.

Maybe apologetic and embarrassed was all he felt about her list. She should have known it was too much to hope. Gently lifting her notebook, she collected her tea and turned toward her room. He knew how she felt and didn’t reciprocate. That was okay. She would manage this. In private, where he couldn’t see her cry.

10 - He always washes the dishes when I cook.

Just before she reached the door, he spoke again. His voice was casual, but a forced casual with cracks. “I didn’t know you were dating someone, but I’m glad he makes you that happy.” He swallowed. “You deserve all of that.”

11 - He gives me courage when I'm feeling scared, but doesn't solve my problems for me unless I ask.

Shirayuki looked back over her shoulder, then turned, setting her tea on the nearest flat surface. In her hands, the notebook fell open to a well-worn page. There was no title on the page, nothing to indicate what she was trying to convince herself to do. “Did you read the whole list?”

12 - He perches on everything, but he fell off the back of the sofa once and laughed so hard I thought he’d choke.

“No. It was personal, and I shouldn’t have read it at all.”

13 - Always comes back to let me in the apartment no matter how many times I lose my keys.

She pressed the book into his hands. “I really think you should read the rest.”

14 - I get lost in his eyes. I don’t know how he hasn’t noticed yet.

He took it reluctantly, his eyes watching her with questions before they dropped to read. He looked like a puppy with his nose rubbed in a mess at first, but she could see when the light started to dawn. First suspicion, then surprise, then his eyes flickered up to look at her for a second, then he started rereading from the beginning. A smile bloomed on his lips on the second time through, knowing now that every painfully heartfelt statement was for him, not for some stranger.

15 - I want to kiss his mouth.

Shirayuki didn’t breathe. Smiling was a good sign, but she’d handed her heart to him on a platter and that was frightening. But she trusted him. It was why she loved him in the first place.

16 - I want to hear him call me by my name.

For months she’d been trying to work up the courage to speak up. The List was supposed to be encouragement, not how she would have chosen to tell him she wanted more than his friendship. Setting aside the notebook next to her tea, Obi reached out and drew her closer, cupping her elbow. “That’s really what you want?” His voice was quiet, but deep in the way that always made her knees weak. She couldn’t say a word, just nodded, watching his smiling eyes. “It’s what I want too, Shirayuki.” His breath hitched on her name, as though he couldn’t believe he was actually saying it, and she drifted closer to him. His hand slid from her elbow around her back as hers landed on his chest. She took one step closer to stand flush against him, her eyes never leaving his, then lifted slightly onto her toes, expecting that was an invitation he wouldn’t decline.

17 - I am always, always safe with him.

He bent to press his mouth against hers, and it was everything she’d hoped.

Chapter Text

April 3, ----

I am beside myself with excitement. After weeks of begging, threatening, and attempting to bribe my way onto a ship, at last I have found one! We have been long past due for a botanical survey of the outlying islands for years, and finally this is to be remedied. We sail tomorrow.

I had been warned that Captain Zen Wisteria was inflexible and difficult, but I have so far found him most pleasant and accommodating. His mates, Mitsuhide Lowen and Kiki Seiran, are also most gentlemanly. Can a lady be gentlemanly? Because that really is the best word for Mate Kiki. I like her very much, which is good because we are to be cabin-mates for the foreseeable future.

The Arrow looks large from shore, but there is a prodigious amount of people on board. I suppose a privateer has need of so many guns and swords to carry out her mission. While we will naturally be targeting the ships of my own home country, I have assured everyone that my loyalties lie with Clarines. The land that welcomes one in is far more beloved than the one that cast one out. But enough said about that.

I find most of the sailors indistinguishable so far, but we are so constantly under each other's feet I am sure we will be great comrades by the end of the voyage. I will be assisting as ship's chirurgeon as well as carrying out my botanical studies. As long as nobody gets hurt while I am out collecting, there should be no conflict.

New plants sighted: common seagrass upon the rocks between us and the open ocean. No need to do anything with that.

April 6, ----

The captain has continued to be most welcoming. I dine with him every night and he is very friendly, full of compliments for my scholarship and my hair. He does not muster much enthusiasm for the plants of the islands, but I suppose that is only to be expected. I do talk about plants quite incessantly. It is a serious social flaw.

I was most embarrassed to find out in passing that he is the younger brother of the king - how did nobody mention this to me when I was making a nuisance of myself? Oh well, what’s done is done, and he seems to have found my insistence charming. I don’t know if I am insulted by that or not. Either way, it worked and here I am. I call that a success.

Deprived of any vegetation to study, I have been watching the operation of the ship and the weapons practice that goes on along the deck. The captain and both mates are highly skilled and refined swordsmen, and their experienced sailors very competent as well. Most of the newly hired crew displays more enthusiasm than skill, but Mitsuhide works them hard. I think some of them might be improving?

New plants sighted: I thought there was lichen in the hold, but apparently one of the cabin boys was seasick and neglected to clean up after himself. I did not make a very good impression with my enthusiasm.

April 9, ----

We had our first sighting of a Tanbarunian ship today, or at least so the look-out claimed. I could see nothing from the rail, and the wind was unfavorable for us to catch them. Everyone is disheartened. I must admit I was looking forward to the change of pace. I knew that privateers spent much of their time out at sea, but I did not expect it to be so very boring.

New plants sighted: still none.

April 10, ----

I reread my last entry, and why would I say such a thing? We not only sighted the Tanbarunian merchanter, we overtook it and exchanged fire. I say we, but I huddled in the cabin shaking at every boom of the cannons, every smash of an enemy ball hitting us. I worried about all the papers I’d never write, the flowers I’d never see, the fact I was going to die unkissed. . .

I was extremely relieved not to be dead when the cannons ceased firing. There were shouts and different thuds against the hull as the boarding gigs were lowered, then a relative silence fell upon the Arrow. Carefully I ascended to the deck, to find it mostly empty. The conflict had moved entirely to the other ship, only a skeleton crew under Kiki’s command and the injured left behind.

I did my best for those in that category, but three were dead already and another two succumbed while I worked. Two only will live to see tomorrow, one with a broken wrist and the other merely a scattering of cuts from wood shards. I am angry at the waste.

The other ship has become quiet, and Kiki is bringing the Arrow alongside. I am ready to go, but I fear the injuries I will see.

Later

I am exhausted, but I do not want to close my eyes yet. So I will write about the aftermath in hopes that it will remain on the page and not trouble my dreams. This is probably futile.

The Arrow’s crew were clearly better trained than the merchant guards. I pulled at least three balls from various sailors and stitched innumerable slice wounds. I did not count the dead. The one smile I had today came from hapless Kai, one of the few sailors I know on sight already. He apparently fell down a ladder into the hold and cracked a few ribs. He was so embarrassed, even through the pain, that I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His compatriots had no such confusion, laughing at him but not in an unfriendly way. Apparently almost everyone has fallen through a hole at some point. I expect my time will come.

Most of the merchant crew are in chains in their own hold now, but oddly one is not. He somehow convinced the captain to hire him on the spot (the books he was handing over likely had something to do with that). Kiki and Mitsuhide are skeptical but follow their master’s lead. The new man is particularly noticeable, and I very much want to ask him about the eye colors of his parents. I have never seen such a gold color before and am curious about how it is inherited. I think that would be an impertinent question, though, so I am writing it down to ask when we know each other better.

Perhaps I can sleep now. Next we will head back to Clarines to turn in our prize. I wonder which port is closest. I wonder when I will get to see some actual islands.

New plants sighted: none. I see blood when I close my eyes

April 12, ----

All is quieter around here with the prize crew gone. The merchanter wallows along behind us, captained by a lieutenant Lugis. I had wondered what exactly his role was, and now I see.

All of my patients that I can see regularly are healing well. Several are part of the prize crew and I can only trust that they are following my instructions.

The gold-eyed man continues to be mysterious. I have gathered that his name is Obi, but he is the first to admit that it is an alias. He talks all the time and says nothing about himself, preferring solitary posts such as lookout over cooperative work. He does not use a sword at all, instead throwing knives with amazing speed and accuracy. He also fights with his bare hands, and the end of today’s practice session turned into an impromptu tournament to see if anyone could take him down. Nobody even landed a blow, and yet somehow every one of his opponents got up smiling.

New plants sighted: Still none. I begin to despair.

April 14, ----

Miracle of miracles! We are stopping at an island! The merchanter has slowed us such that we need to refill our water casks. We will be stopping at an uninhabited island with a spring, and the captain promises me I can have a full day to catalog it. We should be there tomorrow morning. I am beside myself with excitement.

I have been assigned the mysterious Obi for an assistant. He is to keep me out of trouble, but I must wonder if I am to keep him out of trouble too, and how exactly the captain thinks either of us is to stop the other.

I interrogated him about his plant knowledge. When he was not teasing, I have determined that while he is not an educated man, he has a thorough knowledge of forest plants of Clarines in the way of someone who has foraged for food extensively. I do not think he has always been a sailor. Is this useful knowledge? Probably not. But I feel a bit better taking him along. He knows a root from a leaf, and that is an auspicious start.

New plants sighted: None, and I am starving for the color green. Tomorrow, finally.

April 15, ----

I did not get the full day I was promised. The catalog of this nameless isle, whose coordinates I have marked in my formal records and will not repeat here, must remain incomplete for the time being. I am disappointed, but at the same time I am so delighted with the samples we did collect that my spirits cannot be lowered by far.

Obi proved a most capable assistant. His attention to detail was such that he never brought me samples of the same plant twice, and he climbs like some kind of tree-dwelling beast. Also he has good hands for handling samples - rarely did he break roots or tear leaves. There is a lovely epiphytic orchid hanging above my bed now, that he brought me intact. I doubt it will thrive onboard the ship, but as long as it lasts, it makes me smile.

The island was small, with only a few tree species. Ground cover, on the other hand, was highly varied, with a number of crawling vines and grasses competing for space. All of them were new to me, and I was able to collect formal descriptions and a small number of samples from all of them. Finally something useful has come of this trip.

Oh yes, the reason why we were recalled early. A ship was sighted, likely coming to the same well. It was a lighter ship than the Arrow and declined to engage, but as it ran it displayed its standard. Even I know what the blue bird flag means. Pirates.

The captain called us back as soon as both ships were restocked, weighing his promise to me against the safety of ships and crew. I would have been disappointed had our lives not been of more importance than my survey. At the time, of course, I had no idea, but Obi caught the shrill of the bosun whistle and informed me we’d been summoned back. Perhaps the man is part wolf. That would explain the eyes as well as the impressive hearing.

New plants sighted: 4 familiar, 17 new, 6 remaining to identify. Will consult reference books tomorrow

April 16, ----

Everyone is on edge after the pirate sighting. When one Yuris pirate ship is sighted, others are not far away.

Most of my time is consumed in recording and processing all the samples from yesterday, but Obi offered me a lesson in self-defense. He reasoned that if I am going to be traveling on a ship of war, I may be put in a situation where I need to break free of an attacker. I do not like the thought, but the logic is sound. The lesson itself was awkward, with him trying to show me what to do without ever touching me. Poor Shuka was conscripted to be his demonstration victim. I am planning to bring him a poultice for his bruises when I am finished here.

New plants sighted: Five of the six unidentified plants remain unidentified.

April 20, ----

We have reached a friendly port without further incident. Our prize ship has been delivered and recorded, and by a pleasant coincidence it will be entered into an auction already scheduled for tomorrow. Captain Zen has decided to wait here and offer a day’s shore leave.

There are rumors in the city about the Yuris pirates harassing shipping not far to the east. Kiki speculates that the captain will feel the need to do something about this. I am nervous and at the same time excited.

I spent an hour at the local apothecary stocking up on medicinal herbs I anticipate needing soon, then spotted some interesting vegetation on the nearby bluffs.

Obi found me at the foot of the cliff, glaring up at vines out of reach. I was surprised to see anyone from the ship, assuming the food and drink of the city to be far more of a draw than scientific curiosity. Just because I find the plants fascinating doesn’t mean I assume everyone does.

“I had a feeling you might be getting into trouble,” he said with a laugh.

“Clearly not,” I spit back, frustrated. “Given that I can’t reach anything.”

He laughed harder at that, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he walked past me and knelt down at the foot of the cliff. “If you stand on my shoulders, miss, I think you’ll be able to reach.”

That was very helpful of him. “Just don’t look up my skirt,” was all I could think to say, as I slipped off my shoes and carefully stepped onto his shoulders, grasping at the rocks for balance.

“I would never, miss.” He laughed, but his voice dropped into a low register, and I wondered what he was thinking. I had very practical trousers underneath my petticoats, so the joke would be on him if he did peek.

One would think that lifting a grown woman would require some kind of effort, but he stood smoothly. I could almost reach the lowest sprig of brush with the tips of my fingers, leaning forward into the rocks and lifting onto my toes. Just as I caught it, Obi spoke up. “But you do have lovely ankles, miss.”

“Obi!” My squeal and recoil were badly timed, as I lost my balance and tumbled. A moment of fear, sure I would hit the cliff face or the ground, and then I found myself caught in Obi’s arms, held against his chest. He made that seem far too easy as well, as though I weighed nothing. We stared at each other for a moment, both surprised by our new configuration. His eyes were wide with emotion, but he said nothing. “You have no manners,” I complained, finally, and squirmed. I take back every nice thing I have said about him. He is a scoundrel.

He set me down near my shoes. “I never claimed to,” he argued in that deep voice again, leaning one arm against the rocks above my head.

There was nothing more to say to that, so I held up my prize. “I saved the plant, at least.”

He pushed off from the wall and walked a few steps away. “So you did, miss. Shall we take your treasures down to the ship and then get you some food?” He sounded a bit uncomfortable, but his suggestion was good, so that is what we did. The food here is nothing like Pavilion Street, but it is far better than anything ever served on the ship. I don’t know how I missed how hungry I was.

New plants: 0. All that effort, and it’s a common ground cover with no known medicinal uses. Oh well.

Date: April 21, ----

The prize ship was auctioned and everyone paid today. The taverns are ringing with the strident calls of drunken sailors. I was taking advantage of the local food and the sound of leaves in a public park when the captain found me. In thanks for my actions to heal the sailors after the conflict, he designated a small portion of the prize funds for me. I am touched. I am also going to go buy more food. Tomorrow we go back out to sea.

New plants: none. After yesterday's debacle, I focused on my own well-being rather than exploration today.

April 23, ----

Ocean again. Wet. Salty. Obi is trying to teach me self-defense by beating up Shuka again.

New plants: Ha.

April 24, ----

Still at sea. We are apparently heading directly toward Yuris Island, just as Kiki predicted, and there have been a couple of sightings of other ships in the distance. Obi has warned me that should we engage the pirates, the odds of fighting on our own deck shall be far higher than when harassing merchant shipping. If a battle begins I am to stay in my cabin with the door locked. He has no answer for how I am possibly to treat the wounded when they are up here and I am down there. When the time comes, I shall do as I see fit.

My orchid is still alive, much to my surprise. Kiki agrees it brightens the room very nicely.

New plants: None

April 25, ----

There was a brief skirmish today, an exchange of cannon fire with a Yuris pirate. The pirate ship was much smaller and more agile than the Arrow and managed to escape, but there were no casualties among our crew either. I saw the notorious Yuris birds for the first time, startled into flight from their perches among the rigging. There were so many for a single ship, I was surprised.

The captain is in a foul mood and we continue to make course directly for Yuris Island. Mate Mitsuhide is visibly worried, and much of the crew is restless. I caught Obi flicking his knives into a target lashed to the mast, something he does to calm himself. He is among the least overtly nervous of the men, so it must be working.

Also contributing to the unease is the speed of the wind. The waves are running choppy and the sails are partially reefed, and yet we are flying along at quite a clip. All Zen will say about it is “Good, it will keep the birds grounded,” and urge yet more speed.

New plants: No

April 26, ----

Dawn presented us with an island to the east. Yuris. It was rocky and uninviting, but Obi assures me that there are sparkling beaches all along the eastern shore and a deep harbor in the south. I doubt he has spoken with such familiarity of Yuris island to anyone else, but I do not intend to mention it to any of the officers.

The wind has remained brisk, grounding the birds they use as lookouts. There are no ships in sight, and the captain plans to take a party ashore to look for information. Anything we could learn about anchorages, plans, alliances, or anything could be of great use to Clarines.

Here is where the problem comes in. I am not to be one of the party. Apparently the flora of the island is not of enough strategic importance. I am pacing the room with frustration.

New plants: APPARENTLY NOT.

Same date, Later

Obi is not to be part of the landing party either. He says he has a plan and he will tell me as soon as the others have set off. We have anchored off the northern coast, Hisame to be in charge of the vessel while Zen, Kiki, and Mitsuhide are ashore.

Later yet

The official landing party has set off. Obi offered to take me ashore in one of the small boats as soon as they are out of sight - he is keeping watch and I am staying belowdecks to be inconspicuous. The birds are still grounded, to everyone’s relief, but the boat rocks with the wind in a most nauseating fashion. I would say I am eager to be on our way, but then I hear the landing boats slamming against the hull. This is not going to be a pleasant trip, but it is a unprecedented opportunity. I’d never forgive myself if I let fear keep me from that island.

Later still

Perhaps I have made a mistake. The crossing was even worse than anticipated. We were not spied from the ship, or at least nobody raised the alarm. I left a note for Kiki in case they return before we do. I know it is a risk, but I thought it worthwhile. Right now, as I sit on the shore of Yuris Island barely able to walk for the nausea, I am less convinced. Obi looks nearly as ill as I do, although he has managed not to cast up his accounts. I, on the other hand, wish I had brought along some mint to try to alleviate the foul taste in my mouth. Oh well, once I am once again able to walk, I shall be busy and shall pay no mind to the state of my stomach.

April 27, ----

That was an unusual night, to say the least. We were not intending to stay the night, but the wind picked up even more, making the prospect of rowing back to the ship too unpleasant for even Obi to stomach. The other landing party has not returned to their boat either.

Night fell quickly among the cliffs, my ability to distinguish between leaves and wildlife disappearing almost instantaneously. After Obi finished prying the hermit crab off my finger and got his breath back from all the laughter at my expense, he led me to a safe shelter. Apparently the fall of night was not quite as unexpected to him as it was to me. He has found a niche in the rocks, free of any creatures and safely above the tide line. The wind howled through the cliffs, but eventually even that sound faded into background noise, no more intrusive than the watch changes and close quarters aboard ship.

Speaking of close quarters, though, the niche was very small. We went to sleep side by side at a decorous distance, sitting against the wall, but I think I must have slumped against him in the middle of the night. I awoke once leaning against his chest, his arm curled around me securely and my body flush against his down to the knees. He was warm, protecting me from the chill nighttime breeze, and the gentle wash of his breathing lulled me back into a doze. For a secretive and dangerous man, he has been very gentle and protective with me. I felt safe falling back asleep.

The morning is gray and windy. I have collected at least two dozen samples already, fairly indiscriminately. Obi jests that I am denuding the area. He is clearly wrong.

Given that the wind is still high and the captain’s gig is still beached, we have moved from the cliffs up into the forest above. Obi is already sighing at the weight of his collection basket. The path out of the rocks was steep and he offered me a hand to help me keep my balance. It was thoughtful, and he didn’t let go of me immediately when I didn’t need the help anymore. I haven’t walked hand in hand with someone else since I was a child. It was a nice feeling.

Later

The Yuris forests are a treasure trove of diversity! I recorded so many new plants and collected so many samples that I forgot to pay attention to the weather.

Obi must have been distracted as well, because the first warning we had that the wind had subsided was the cry of a bird. I barely caught sight of its azure feathers through the leaves before Obi whirled me around and pinned me against a tree where it couldn’t see us.

One of his hands was by my ear, the other hovering near his knife, and he leaned close enough to me that his chest brushed mine on every breath. I don’t know how long we stood there, breathing, hiding, looking into each other’s faces, then his eyes fell to my mouth and he leaned incrementally closer -

Garrack turned the page, then flipped back to the page she’d just finished. “And?”

“And what?” Shirayuki was carefully laying out paper envelopes of seeds collected on her expedition.

“Where’s the rest?”

“The formal records should all be there.” Shirayuki pointed to the stack of plant descriptions with location maps and sketches that Garrack was holding in her hand.

“Yes, I see that, but I need to know what happened next!”

“I didn’t think it was relevant . . . I just included those pages for the dates and the plant tallies.”

“And that is all well and good, but Shirayuki! What happened with the sexy pirate?”

Shirayuki was resembling the color of a ripe apple now. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she mumbled, not meeting Garrack’s eyes.

The bell rang as the main door opened. “I do believe she means me.” The man at the door matched every one of Shirayuki’s descriptions, height, scars, smirk, knives, and all. He walked forward with a great steadiness, as though the room could tilt at any moment and he would be unmoved, and bowed over Garrack’s hand. “I’m Obi, Miss’s new permanent assistant,” he purred, eying Shirayuki as her shade of red approached painful levels.

Pulling herself to her full height, Garrack looked Obi over from head to toe. “Well. Not bad at all. If you’re as good with your hands as she said, then you might be good enough for her.” His smirk deepened at that. They understood each other. Her job done, she turned to Shirayuki. “Looks like you have everything under control. Keep him busy.” So her meaning wouldn’t be lost, she winked. “I’ll be in my office.”

Chapter Text

The comet divided lives. There was before, and there was after, and nobody was the same. Once Shirayuki had been a physician's assistant in Tanbarun with a gardening hobby, but now she was part doctor, part herbalist, an important element of the first medical line of defense for the Clarines Valley. They struggled on with scavenged supplies and herbal medicine, watching the use-by dates on the antibiotics tick closer and holding their breaths every time the power flickered. The world beyond their mountains might as well not exist, save as a threat. Most of it might not even exist in truth. They just didn’t know.

For some, the before was a mystery. Obi had an encyclopedic knowledge of ways to kill people and the ability to make a meal out of just about anything. Nobody knew why. Whatever he and the Wisterias had agreed to behind closed doors, he went from being Shirayuki’s pursuer to her guardian. She had never felt so safe in her life, and so little alone.

Most mourned what they had once been. Zen tried his hardest, trapped by his brother's ambition into a role he didn't want. He had been a teacher, his dream job offer as an assistant principal arriving just days before the comet. It stole his future too. Now he was his brother's fixer, a symbol of his rule wherever Izana couldn't be himself. He'd taken Shirayuki in when she'd crossed the mountains on foot, stood up for her against the pursuit from Tanbarun. She owed him so much.

Lyrias fought on for the future, a shell of a university town trying to keep up science in a world reduced to survival. They guarded the libraries and told themselves that when the modern era came again, it would start at Lyrias. Until then, messengers on horses still carried mail between the cities, following the roads that nobody had gasoline left to plow. The snow was deep in the higher elevations, the clouds rarely clearing enough to allow the sun’s rays. Kiki theorized they were in for years of harsh winters and wet summers. Time would tell.

For a generation raised with twenty-four-hour news and the Internet, news passed solely by word of mouth had an unreal, untrustworthy quality. Everything felt like rumors. Shirayuki didn't think much upon hearing that something was up in Sereg. The farthest reach of the valley had required persuasion to join Izana’s organization in the first place, and no good news ever came from there. Something was always up in Sereg.

Mitsuhide usually just rolled his eyes at the rumors and complained about how unfortunate it was to be related to the current troublemaker. They were always related. He'd been a fireman in Sereg before Zen absorbed him into his retinue. He'd barely ever been out of the valley, and that chance was probably gone forever now.

But he hadn't been to Lyrias in months to complain. Shirayuki missed his reassurance and optimism, along with Zen’s pointed observations of people and Kiki’s doom and gloom. Kiki had decided the world needed a knight far more than it needed another environmental scientist right now, her love for the past trumping her hope for the future. Her Lyrias office sat empty, unneeded. Shirayuki would have liked to have seen them, but their path from Wistal to Sereg bypassed Lyrias. Obi heard the news from the patrols, or she'd never even have known.

It didn't occur to her that Obi wasn't telling her everything until half a day later. He made himself known in the greenhouse behind her, fidgeting. Obi didn't fidget. She laid aside the seeds she was harvesting, another step in the ongoing battle preserving sun-loving plants against the constant grayness. She lived in hope of the sun returning. “Did you need something, Obi?”

The fidgeting stopped, but he still seemed uncomfortable with words. “I have . . . a bad feeling about Master.” She cocked her head, waiting for him to continue. Clearly he wanted her to know or he wouldn't have brought it up, but expressing unsolicited opinions never came easily to him. She could be patient. “I’ve walked into enough traps in my time to smell them, and everything about Sereg reeks. I think he's going to need me.”

She knew better than to question him. His hunches were usually right. “Are you asking for my permission? Of course you should go.” It would be odd without him, their good mornings and good nights the bookends of her days, his cooking her primary source of food. But she'd manage. She'd even find someone else to share her bed with at night, the cold too profound and the power too dear to sleep alone. Obi had been appalled at the idea at first, but a few bitterly cold nights had won him over to her side and her toes had slept warm ever since. He wasn’t truly comfortable with the proximity, stiffening or twisting away whenever she crossed lines that only he understood, but they'd become used to the sound of each other's breathing. She wouldn't sleep well until he was back. That was no reason to stop him from going.

He didn't seem very calmed by her agreement. “I don't want to leave you,” he complained. “What if something happens while I'm gone?” She didn't know what everyone worried so much about. Tanbarun had given up on her by now, for sure, and who else would even care?

“You'll be in more danger than I will.” He looked unimpressed. That argument never worked, his lack of care for his own safety always a frustration. “Fine. If it will make you feel better, I could put up with someone else while you're gone.” She tried to make it very clear by her tone how much she didn't need a babysitter.

“Shikito might be able to handle it,” Obi mused, her implied objection ignored. He'd mentioned the name before, a stranded foreign college student and one of his better trainees. “I'll get him reassigned until I get back.” Shirayuki just sighed.

The sun was struggling to peek through the clouds as Shirayuki joined Obi on the walls to say goodbye. The wind was no less harsh, and the light, redder than it should be, was more disconcerting than anything else. Still, it was a great help for the plants and maybe a good omen. Shikito hung back against the wall, out of the wind, and Obi nodded sharply to him. He'd already conveyed his instructions, and Shikito acknowledged him with a salute. Shirayuki thought back to the terrifying figure Obi had been when he first arrived in Clarines on her heels, and the salute made her proud. He'd earned that respect.

Still smiling, she turned back to Obi, to find him already gazing at her. He looked like he was memorizing her. After all this time, how could anything about her still be a surprise to him? He knew exactly how she sweetened her tea, how she folded her bookmarks, how she walked down stairs. He knew how her grandparents died and where she'd buried her cat. Her life was an open book to him.

He'd returned the favor as far as he was comfortable. Obi before the comet was off limits, aside from knowing that he had no home, didn't belong to people or places or get attached. But nobody knew present day Obi like Shirayuki did, his moods and evasions, his likes and dislikes. She selfishly hoped for the rest someday, the nightmares and what he looked for when he stared into the distance. Whether someone was out there looking for him. She hoped he understood how much she wanted him to come back to her, to stay. She'd never been able to make the words.

The wind stilled for a second, leaving an unexpected silence. “Stay safe,” she whispered, unable to ask for what she wanted. He just nodded, silent. The wind gusted, flinging her hair into her eyes, and he was gone.

Shikito stepped forward to join her at the gray stone wall and watch Obi ride away. “I'm sure he'll be back soon, miss.”

Shikito reminded her pleasantly of an intern she'd had once, all misguided enthusiasm and thumbs, working very hard for little forward progress. Keeping him from destroying anything occupied more of her time than she'd expected, so she missed Obi the most at meals and at night. She didn't have the heart to beg her way into anyone else's bed, just piled on even more blankets. Under the covers, she wound her hands in a green wool scarf. He'd worn his warmest one to Sereg, but left his favorite draped over a chair in her room. It comforted her.

She was in the pharmacy when news of the attempted coup in Sereg broke. There had been a trap, a battle, but Zen was all right, Mitsuhide was vindicated, and the head of the Bergatt family was dragged back to Wistal in cuffs. There was no news of Obi. “Surely they would have said if someone had been hurt,” Shikito said, hand on her shoulder. She doubted so deep a coup had been stopped bloodlessly, but she nodded to reassure him.

It was yet another week before she knew for sure. Ryuu berated her for misfiling a drawer of herbs for the third time in less than six days and strongly suggested she go work on the garden expansion. She knew he was right, and dragged out the pick and shovel to do battle. There was workable soil there, and they needed all the land they could plant, but there were tons of rocks between her and a usable field. It was all she was good for in this state.

Shikito took to working on the wall, stacking stone while she sorted rocks. She'd just unearthed a nice slab and hoisted it up to carry it over, but when she stood, Shikito was distracted. Someone was speaking with him, someone she couldn't see. A few shuffling steps, and the newcomer came into view. The stone fell forgotten, just missing her toes. Oblivious, she ran, stumbling across the rough ground, falling just as she reached Obi and catching herself on his arms.

She grasped his wrists to keep from throwing herself into his arms, sand and rock chips biting into her skin but she didn't care, he was back and he was safe. His wrists flexed under her hands and she looked up at him, her heart so full she didn't know how to express it.

The look on Obi’s face was something she'd never seen before. Maybe, just maybe that was the look of him feeling the same, heart bursting with happiness just because they were together again. Her future wasn't missing him after all. “Welcome home.”

Chapter Text

Leaving Montalba was a relief. It pleased King Izana to send her on his errands, and she was getting used to the job, but she’d rather be replanting a greenhouse any day. From all the evidence, she suspected Obi felt the same way. Particularly this time. They stopped early for the night to celebrate their return to Clarines, crammed shoulder to shoulder at a tiny table in a crowded taproom for a leisurely dinner and drink.

It pleased King Izana to send her on his errands, and she was getting used to the job, but she’d rather be replanting a greenhouse any day.

Having set aside her ambassadorial responsibilities, Shirayuki could finally give in to all the emotions she’d tried so hard to suppress while she was doing Izana’s work. “The look on the king's face when you knocked him over!” If she laughed about it, maybe she'd forget her heart stopping as Obi lunged at the king, then stopping again as she thought he was injured. Nobody else in the room had moved half so quickly, and had the assassin's arrow not been so plainly evident quivering in the center of the dais, Obi might have been in trouble indeed.

“It's what I do, miss, you should know that by now. Save lives in the most entertaining fashion.” He sketched a bow in her direction, constrained by the table and his arm around her shoulder. The king of Montalba, a giant bear of a man, had bounded to his feet, roaring at his knights as they scattered, and nearly knocked Obi back to the ground with a resounding clap on the back.

“And clearly he appreciated your intervention.” Shirayuki took another sip of her wine, enjoying the way Obi’s lips tightened at the reminder. The incident had entirely overshadowed the purpose of their visit, the formal delivery of Izana’s letters relegated to a private meeting later.

“I would have preferred to be appreciated with money, if he'd felt the need.” Obi sighed and settled back into his seat. “I have no idea how to explain this to Master. Or the king, for that matter.”

Shirayuki really wanted to be there for that conversation, to see Izana’s face when he learned that the king of Montalba had adopted Obi in gratitude. The king already had several grown children with families of their own, so it wasn't like Obi was in line to inherit, but still. She giggled into her glass, and Obi nudged her.

“It's not that funny, miss.” Yes it was, and the more he complained, the funnier it got. She just kept snickering, and he huffed. “It's not like you don't have your own titles, Miss Ambassador for the Crown of Clarines.”

Shirayuki set down her glass and turned to face him. He had picked his battle poorly this time. “Sir Immediate Knight to the Second Prince of Clarines.”

Obi edged toward her, challenge burning in his gold eyes. His nose was nearly touching hers, and she could smell the wine on his breath. “Friend of the Royal Family of Tanbarun.”

Oh, she had him now. She leaned in further, her cheek brushing so close to his that she could feel the warmth of his skin. Close by his ear she paused for a breath, then whispered, “Your Highness.”

Obi’s protest was a tiny sound in the back of his throat as he held himself rigidly in place. Shirayuki found she had to swallow before continuing, his newly gifted titles stuck in her throat, and her lip dragged across his earlobe. The breath rushed out of him as though he'd been struck, and the arm still draped across her back pulled tight. “Don't finish that,” he rasped.

He faced her again, still close enough to touch, her nose sliding along his as she looked up in defiance. She opened her mouth to spite him, to finish the job, and Obi’s lips sealed to hers.

Her eyes closed without her volition. Not fair, but everything had faded away, everything beyond where he held her tightly, where her fingers caught on his collarbone and slid to the back of his neck, where his lips dragged across hers with a slight sourness but ever so soft. She sipped at air as he tilted his head and pulled back just enough to peck at her lips playfully.

Shirayuki was content not to move, breathing against Obi’s mouth with one hand caught in his hair and the other against his chest. His heart raced beneath her fingers, and Shirayuki could only imagine hers was pounding just as fast. They’d been dancing around this possibility long enough. She opened her eyes a slit, to find Obi’s already open. He looked worried. “Cheater,” she mumbled, lips still brushing his as she spoke.

“You use the weapons you have,” he whispered, relaxing, mouth curving into a smile now.

“I had you,” Shirayuki protested, and decided to try for a sneak attack. “Protector of-” His lips interrupted her again, this time with more assurance.

She gasped lightly when he released her this time. “You always have me.” One more brush of the lips, to keep her off balance. “No need to rub it in.”

Chapter Text

The old chateau on the hill had sat empty for years, looming above the city with its cracked windows that looked like eyes. Shirayuki had rung the bell once years ago, on a dare, and heard the ominous bonging echo throughout the empty halls. There was no warning, no word before the new people moved in, the windows suddenly repaired and smoke rising from the dozen chimneys. It was the talk of the town, first with breathless speculation, then with a rising note of annoyance as the new neighbors kept their secrets. Friendly gossips bearing welcoming dishes were ignored, left on the porch with only the echoes of the bell for company. Shadowy figures could be seen moving around, the curtainless windows remaining lit far into every night, but the occupants had no use for the town, apparently. Until today.

Lightning cracked in the distance when Shirayuki paused at the front step to catch her breath. The vertiginous path up to the chateau was no longer than it had been when she was a child, but she hadn’t been carrying twenty pounds of supplies then, either. If they failed to open the door for her, after such a large order, all of her stock of several herbs and several days’ worth of compounding, with a storm on the horizon, no less, she was going to kick it in and give them a piece of her mind. Flush with anger, she yanked on the bellpull. The tone she hadn’t heard in so many years but never forgotten sounded through the house. She curled her fingers on the handle of her bag.

A shadow passed the window just visible in her peripheral vision, and she held her breath. Another crack of thunder, closer this time, shivered the windows in their casements. Her teeth gritted at the thought of carrying her parcels back down the path in the rain. The door had better open.

A bolt shot back with a report like a whip, and hinges sang as the door slowly opened. She stepped back to let it swing, then faced the man in the doorway. He was tall and dark, teeth glinting as he leaned, grinning, against the doorframe. “This is some weather to be out in, miss, but I think you must have the wrong address.”

She thought of little red riding hood, welcomed in by a wolf, but he was far from welcoming. She didn’t have time for this. “This was the address on my order. Do you think I’d mix this up with any other house?” She looked up, suddenly noticing the gargoyles carved into the lintel above the door. “I have an order to deliver and I expect to be paid in full.” She was not about to accept credit from anyone who answered their door so rarely. She had a business to run.

“I don’t know of any orders, miss. We haven’t-” Another crash of thunder almost covered up the sound of fat harbinger raindrops peppering the ground behind her. A drip landed in her hair, running down into her eye, and she rubbed it away with the back of her free hand. The man looked up at the sky, grimacing at the clouds. “You’d best come in and talk to the master. Maybe he’ll want whatever it is you have.”

The hinges shrieked as the man shut the door behind her, cutting off abruptly as he once again shot the bolt. She was locked in, trapped in the strange house with this dangerous-looking man and his mysterious master. He beckoned to her from the stairs, and she followed, her hand trailing over the worn brass railing. Aside from fixing the windows, they clearly hadn’t improved the house much. The grand hall still looked abandoned. A stair creaked and sagged sickeningly under her foot.

A large double door in the upper hall led to what might once have been a ballroom. It was an open space, with patterned cloth walls of an antique fashion and a dizzying skylight in the ceiling. Rain washed across it in little waves, dripping through the glass in two or three places. Dozens of lamps were alight around the room, scattering illumination off the faceted glass until the entire room glowed. Picture windows overlooked the town, looking so small and foggy in the torrential rain. This was the source of the lights that so intrigued the town.

“Master,” the dark man called, a smile in his voice, and there was a rustle across the room. A desk she’d overlooked was occupied, a fair-haired man scribbling wildly on a sheet of paper. Lightning flashed overhead, the reflected light off his fair hair almost painful in its intensity.

“A moment, Obi,” his master replied, never looking away from his work. “I just need . . . if I get . . . but this doesn’t go . . . Oh!” He interrupted himself, the pen stopping for a moment but his eyes staying glued to his work. “We should have some new supplies coming up from town, please take care of them when they arrive.”

The dark man, Obi, sighed, then snickered. “When was the order placed?” he whispered to Shirayuki.

“About a week ago,” she answered. She didn’t carry all the tinctures and waters he had asked for, so those had been made from scratch. It had been a busy week assembling the order, and her bags contained more than a dozen items.

“Master, you really should let me know a little sooner when things like this happen. I nearly turned away this lovely young apothecary with all your supplies.” He winked at her, as though sharing a joke. Perhaps it was an apology for the unsolicited compliment.

Finally, the pale man looked up from his desk. “Here? Already?” Papers fluttered on his desk as he bounded toward her, fingers grasping for her parcels.

Shirayuki stepped back. “I expect my payment first. In full.”

His eyes snapped to Obi, so her gaze naturally followed. He sighed tolerantly. “Somebody tell me the total, please?”

Once she’d been paid and relieved of her packages, Shirayuki could finally take a breath. Further study of the room revealed a number of mysterious half-built devices. Some featured crystals, others gears, some wicked-looking arrays of metal fins and linkages. Not a one could she name the use of.

Obi was watching her with a tolerant smile now, leaning against the wall again. His master, who had eventually introduced himself as Zen, was gleefully sorting out his purchases onto shelves, humming happily. He shook the box of nightshade berries, and that reminded Shirayuki of something she wanted to ask. She sidled closer to Obi so perhaps his master wouldn’t hear. “I know this is none of my business, but is this going to be all right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “All right?”

“There were enough poisons in that order to kill a dozen men. Half of it without even being ingested. Are you going to be safe? Is he?”

He didn’t seem offended by her presumption, but neither did he seem worried. His smile went feral again, but this time she didn’t feel the need to back away. “Ah, miss, working for master is always an adventure. Poisonous plants are the least of my worries.”

“We’re not poisoning anyone, you don’t have to worry about us!” Oh dear, Zen could hear after all. “We just need the ions.”

“Ions.” She repeated the word flatly to keep from some more offensive response. She didn’t know whether she’d laugh hysterically or shout. He didn’t notice, warming up to his subject.

“I have so many ideas. My brother said I couldn’t succeed as a scientist, I should just stay home and help him, but I’m going to show him he’s wrong. I’m going to transmute this sand to gold, or at least copper, and I’m going to prove it to him. I will show them all!”

“With ions. From poisons.” Obi was watching her, face controlled. Was he laughing at her, behind that mask? Or was challenging his master going to anger him?

Her skepticism was leaching away the master’s enthusiasm. He scooped up a book from his desk, brandishing it at her. “Arleston says . . .”

She couldn’t let him embarrass himself like that. “You realize that work is over a hundred years old, right?” Her eyes flicked to Obi, whose lips were twitching now. He was fighting a smile.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work.” Zen was digging in his heels now. “I have the full scale reactor ready to go.”

“Have you tested it at small scale? In controlled circumstances?”

“No? It’ll work, I swear it’ll work, the calculations all balance!”

“The theory of complementary ions has been entirely superseded. You’re endangering your life working with dangerous chemicals on a scale like this. If you care about doing this right, stop acting like an engineer and do some actual science.” Obi was hiding his mouth with both hands now, the wall holding him up against his convulsions of suppressed hilarity.

Zen stared at her, wide-eyed, and the realization of what she’d done sank in. She’d just told off a rich customer, in his own home. She should never be allowed out of the shop. Nerves clamped down on her lungs. Suddenly desperate to escape, she bowed and squeaked, “Thank you for your business!” Then she turned and all but ran for the door.

Obi was there before her, holding it open with an appreciative smile. He shadowed her down the stairs, whispering, “That was fantastic, miss.”

Shirayuki paused on the last step to look back up at him. He glanced back up at the workshop before explaining. “He doesn’t really listen to anyone, but you got right through to him. It was a pleasure to watch.”

They walked side by side the last few yards to the front door. The rainstorm was easing from its torrent to a more manageable level. She should be safe enough to walk home. Obi situated himself by the front door, ready to let her out, then reached out suddenly for her hand. With the slightest brush at her fingers, he lifted her hand and bowed over it elegantly. She could feel his breath warm on the back of her hand. Still bent over, he raised his eyes to meet hers. She was mesmerized, unable to move or look away. “I hope we can meet again soon, miss.”

“Shirayuki,” she whispered. “My name’s Shirayuki.”

Before he could respond, there was a shout from upstairs. “Obi, is she still here? I want to borrow a book!”

Obit straightened up, opening the door as quietly as possible and motioning for silence as he ushered her out. She looked back as he closed the door behind her, and he winked. The latch shot closed with its painful crack, and she could hear Obi bellow. “You just missed her! I can run down to the shop tomorrow and ask!”

Even the last of the remaining raindrops couldn’t upset her. She would see him again tomorrow. If she was smart about which books she lent, she could probably have him back every few days. Her lips curved in a smirk. This was going to be fun.

Chapter Text

Shirayuki peeks around the corner, half hidden by the water fountain. He’s still there.

“What’cha looking at?” Her muscles convulse as she throws herself backwards in surprise, then groans and doubles over.

“Don't startle me like that, Yuzu! Everything hurts.”

Yuzuri is undeterred, peeking around the corner. “Him?” The man at the front desk has his chair tipped back precariously, engrossed in a Tom Clancy paperback.

“I think I'm not ready to go yet. Maybe I'll go. . .” She looks over her shoulder for inspiration, but only the group workout rooms are behind her. The door to the pool is at the end of the hall, though. “Swim. I'll go swim for a bit.”

“Girl, you can hardly walk. You'll drown. Plus your suit’s not in your bag, it was hanging in your bathroom when we left. What's this really about?”

She peeks around the corner again. The book’s facedown on the counter now, its owner chatting with Kiki. Nobody has the right to look so cool and perfect after teaching an hour-long cardio belly dance class. It’s unnatural. Kiki flashes the man a brief smile and Shirayuki sighs.

She just needs to wait until he goes back to his book, then she can maybe slip past. Maybe she can hide behind Yuzuri.

“Has he been bothering you?” Oh no, Yuzuri is not going to let this drop.

“Actually, he threw me out,” Shirayuki whispers. “It was my first day, and Zen had said I could get a free day, but he hadn’t been told, so . . .” She’s learned after the fact that this is classic Zen, making big generous gestures but not attending to quite all the details. She shouldn’t blame the guy, he was just doing his job, but . . . His hands were so big, gentle but unbreakable on her arms, and he smelled so good, and now he thinks she’s the kind of entitled person who demands favors and special treatment. She doesn’t want him to see her. She’s dodged him successfully for three weeks of class now, and she thought she was in the clear, but here he is, guarding the door between her and freedom.

“Uh-huh.” Yuzuri smiles, and then she has Shirayuki’s arm locked in her iron grasp, dragging her directly to the check-in desk. “Excuse me!”

The man’s name tag reads “Obi.” Chair legs slam to the ground as he looks up in surprise, locking eyes with Shirayuki despite the fact that Yuzuri is the only one with anything to say. “Miss! You're back! I owe you an apology. I was a bit overzealous the first time we met, and I am sorry. Zen yelled at me good for that.”

Maybe she was safer back when she was scared of him. Having him all friendly, with those striking gold eyes and those arms, acting like he owes her something, is far more terrifying. “It’s all right,” she manages to squeak, and Yuzuri vibrates with suppressed laughter next to her. He just keeps looking at her, waiting for something, and she can’t look away from him, mesmerized.

“Anyway,” interjects Yuzuri when she gets her breath back. “Did Kiki say whether there’d be a make-up class for the holiday next week? She didn’t mention it in class.”

“The Tuesday cardio bellydance class, hm?” Oh no, now he knows what class she’s in. “No make-up class, but you’re welcome to come join the Thursday class for no additional cost.” He leans over the counter conspiratorially, and she can’t help but watch his shoulders tighten with the motion. “She’s just a little easier on the Thursday class because it’s right after her Krav Maga class and she’s in a good mood.”

That’s half tempting, just for the prospect of seeing Kiki in a good mood. She’s a patient teacher, but her smiles are rare, fleeting, and heart-stoppingly beautiful. Shirayuki finds them very motivational.

“That sounds reasonable,” Yuzuri says. Shirayuki still can’t find her voice. He’s still looking at her. “We’ll make a point of being there.” She heads for the turnstile, and Shirayuki sticks close behind her.

“It’ll be a pleasure to see you again, then,” Obi agrees. He must be working that night. Maybe she can sneak in behind Yuzuri again.

It’s Thursday long before Shirayuki is ready. She listened to the music, she studied the terrible photocopied instructions Kiki had handed over on her first day, and she even got a ride with Yuzuri so her camouflage is assured. She is prepared, but she isn't ready.

Obi isn't at the front desk, so that’s one hurdle unexpectedly cleared. But as they walk into the classroom, slightly crowded due to the doubled class, it becomes clear why. He’s in the front corner of the room, shirtless, warming up. She’d figured him for a CrossFit enthusiast or a triathlete, something he’d brag about with the other guys in the weight room. Not this sinuous grace, rolling his shoulders, knees bent and hips fluid, back bending impossibly, his hands circling with mesmerizing assurance. Yuzuri has to push her back into motion to get through the door.

She sets down her bag and her water bottle and stakes out a spot in the back opposite corner, as far from Obi as she can manage. Hopefully the rings of preening sports-bra-clad women drooling over him will screen her from his view. She avoids him so hard she bumps right into the other person hiding in the back corner. Turning to apologize, she has to step back to speak to his face instead of his pecs. There’s apparently another man in the class as well, very tall, very well-muscled, also shirtless, and looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. She sympathizes. They exchange names and shy smiles, agreeing to hide in the back together.

Kiki strides in, her coin belt chiming with every step, and calls the class to order. She gestures to Obi, who runs over to the CD player to start the music. His bare feet tap out a beat on the wood floor. Turning back, he scans the class, and Shirayuki bends to check the fringed scarf tied around her hips, red like her hair. Yuzuri bought it for her, thinking it would make her stand out. Shirayuki wishes she could blend in.

Blending in is a futile hope, with her bouncing off the equally confused Mitsuhide during warm-ups, losing her balance, and ending up on her butt. With extreme force of will, she manages to keep her eyes on Kiki, who frowns at Mitsuhide but never misses a beat. She hears the distinctive squeak of Yuzuri’s giggle and a number of less charitable titters from around the room as she scrambles back to her feet, trying to find the rhythm again.

Just as she thinks she has it, the class rearranges for walking lunges and she’s too slow to avoid being next to Obi. With the class so crowded, he is close enough to smell, some kind of deliciously sharp scent warring with the sheen of sweat he’s already sporting. It makes her want to lean in and sniff him almost as much as she wants to run away and hide.

Kiki calls out the count, and the class surges forward as one, down into a deep lunge and up. Obi’s long stride draws him ahead of her, the weightless grace he steps with a painful contrast to Shirayuki’s groaning struggle. She’s proud she’s already improved since the first week, but still. Another count, Obi’s lower back muscles tensing smoothly as his weight shifts, and something in Shirayuki’s thigh pulls tight, screaming its overstretched agony, and lets go. She collapses to the deck, clutching her leg and whining.

There’s no room in her pain and surprise for sexy men, but she still sees Obi whirl, sees him wave placatingly to Kiki and then she’s feeling him slip an arm around her back and support her out of the room into the hallway, where a row of hard plastic chairs crowd against the wall. He settles her into one with a “Don’t go anywhere,” and a flash of a nervous smile, then he’s sprinting down the hall. She leans her head against the wall, humiliated. She pulled a muscle in warm-ups. Loudly. The solidity of the wall offers her no comfort.

Bare feet approach again, and Obi’s returned with an ice pack. Her leg doesn’t feel quite so bad when she’s not moving, but she knows she’s not going to be finishing the class today. She accepts the ice, shifting to trap it under her leg, and there are tears in her eyes when she looks up at Obi again. “Thanks.” She can’t leave that out. “But you don’t need to wait out here with me, I’ll be fine until class is over.”

Obi hums in response but doesn’t make a move to leave. “I’m only there to mess with Kiki,” he shrugs. “I’d rather not leave you alone.”

Shirayuki seizes on the conversation topic. “You’re friends with Kiki?”

Obi’s chair squeaks as he forces it back. His abs tighten against the resistance. “We dance in the same troupe, make each other’s lives difficult whenever we get the chance.” Shirayuki is struck dumb at the image of Obi and Kiki dancing together, dark and light, bare feet and scarves, the rhythm of drums and zills. She needs to find out when they perform. She needs it down to the center of her gut and the soles of her feet.

The music drifting out of the classroom changes, and Shirayuki realizes she’s been staring. Obi doesn’t seem to mind, still musing about Kiki. “She doesn’t really show it to everyone, but she really loves to dance. She even got her boyfriend to come, this week. I think you two met.” His eyes dart to Shirayuki, meaningful. “I wouldn’t suggest flirting with him, Kiki does get possessive.”

Shirayuki sits up with a jerk, her leg complaining through the ache of cold. “I wasn’t!”

She must be imagining the way he relaxes at that. “Not how it looked from where I was.”

She’s light-headed from exertion and pain, because surely she can’t be understanding him correctly. “You were watching me?”

“Um.” The classroom door is suddenly fascinating. “Would you like me to go get your water?” He pops up and through the door before she can tell him which one is hers, and she wonders how long it’ll take him to give up and come ask. She doesn’t know exactly what’s got him so interested, but she does know she’s not so frightened of him anymore.

Chapter Text

Shirayuki stared through the window, fingers white on the bottom sill. Behind her, her parents talked in low voices, but her attention was riveted by the girls in the classroom. Dressed in pink, with hair tied up tightly and pretty shoes, they bent and dipped all together like a room full of princesses. Shirayuki was wearing the same pink, but she didn't feel like a princess. Her hair tie was too tight and her shoes pinched.

A movement in the back of the room distracted her, a boy practicing alone. He was a few years older than her, all in white but with the same pink shoes. She smiled at him. He scowled back, gold eyes narrow and nose wrinkling.

She spun, wrapping her arms around her dad’s legs and bursting into tears. His hands came down to rest on her back, but she wouldn't let go. “I don't think she's really ready for this,” he said to her mother. “We'll try again when she's older.”

---

The homecoming dance was going to be the highlight of Shirayuki’s year. She had a date, the most popular boy in their grade, no less, and the rumor was that the organizing committee had raised enough to hire a real band.

Nothing went as planned. Her father took the requisite awkward pictures, sniffling about her mother not being able to be there, and all the while Raj was checking his watch. He’d brought her a lovely corsage, yellow roses and green leaves, but by the time their limo arrived at the dance, she'd already realized that she had the same job. She was there to look pretty on Raj’s arm just the way the flowers hung on hers.

The band was not what she’d been expecting, either. Principal Kino wrote the checks and apparently she liked oldies. Four college-age boys looked embarrassed up on stage, playing oldies to a room full of disappointed high schoolers, but they did their best to make it fun. Wrapping up their third Beatles song, the musicians rearranged themselves, one of the guitarists setting aside his instrument and stepping to the front of the stage to grab the microphone.

She had two chords to reel in disbelief before the vocals started and her mouth fell open in awe. She didn't know whether to be more amazed that they had the gall to cover Elvis at a high school dance or that the vocalist was absolutely killing Jailhouse Rock. He even had the moves, almost floating across the stage, knees twisting and hips gyrating. She understood the appeal now, her feet drifting a step toward the front of the room. She wasn't the only one.

Raj dragged her to the dance floor when the next song was slow. Rocking back and forth was all Shirayuki could manage, but that gave him all the opportunities he needed to let his hands roam. After the third time she reined them in, he changed tack, pulling her in tight to press their bodies together. Before she could protest, he leaned in. “No need to play so shy, we both know you want me,” he whispered warmly in her ear, and that was it.

Pulling away, she kicked her knee up into his crotch, dropping him as he slithered to the ground with a whine. She marched for the exit, glad the bus system ran late on weekends. At the door, she turned for one last look, and the singer met her eyes. He smiled through the lyrics, gold eyes crinkling, and offered her a tiny nod of respect. She smiled back, and closed the door behind her.

---

Shirayuki didn't really want to be on the cruise. She only had three months left until her wedding, and there were so many things still to do. Zen couldn't be left alone to make decisions, vendors didn’t listen to him and he always just deferred to her. But how could she say no to two weeks of vacation complete with a chance to spend time with her beloved grandparents? Especially when they were paying for it?

As antsy as she was, she couldn't help being happy that everyone was having so much fun. Grandpa rode a jetski for the first time. Grandma exclaimed over the buffet and the towel animals. Last night they'd stayed down in the ballroom for hours while she cut pictures out of bridal magazines in her bunk.

Over breakfast, Grandma couldn't stop gushing about all her dance partners. Grandpa’s knee replacement wasn't doing so well, and he'd only danced a song or two. (“I just like seeing you have fun,” he told Grandma, and Shirayuki teared up a bit. Someday that would be her and Zen, she knew it.)

One of the professionals had dipped her after a foxtrot, and she was still giddy talking about it. “It was like magic, sweetheart.” Shirayuki could see the stars in her eyes. “He was the nicest young man, and so reassuring. You should come with us next time, he could probably make even you enjoy dancing.”

Shirayuki tried to protest, but Grandma had already moved on, waving to someone across the room. “There he is now. Halloo!” Shirayuki turned to face Grandma's new friend, a tall, dark-haired man far on the other side of the hall. He waved back and blew a kiss, then disappeared through a staff door.

She went to a movie the next night they went down to the ballroom.

----

The club was crowded, the eight-piece swing band blasting far too loud for the space, and she was far too sober for this. Then again, she thought, watching a girl flip up into a handstand on her partner's shoulders, this would be just as terrifying tipsy. She clung to her table, knuckles white.

Make Grandma proud of me, she thought. She was going to be brave, show everyone she wasn't beaten by a broken engagement, wasn't giving up with her grandparents gone. She had nobody left to prove anything to but herself.

The dancers blurred for a second and she blinked. When her eyes focused there was a man waiting at a respectful distance, watching her. He’d clearly been having fun, his hair sweaty, his gold eyes sparkling with exertion. “You look like you'd like to be dancing, miss. Would you care to join me?” He held out a hand.

She reached out, her fingers hovering just above his wrist. “I don't know what I'm doing.”

His coiled energy looked like he wanted to grab her hand and drag her away, but he waited for her to make her decision. “Then you've found the right partner. Come try it with me. I'll teach you.” He grinned even wider, and she couldn't help but smile in response. She laid her hand gently in his, and his long fingers closed over hers. “This is going to be fun, miss. I promise.”

She followed him onto the floor, believing him. Finally, she was ready to dance.

Chapter Text

Obi eyed the boots with suspicion. “I need these?”

Shirayuki, already buckling her waders on over her uniform, shrugged. “You can suit yourself, but you’ll want to throw out your shoes tonight if you don’t.”

Community service, they said. Assist the park ranger, they said. Nobody had said anything about hip boots. He eyed his jeans, his shoes, thought about how he really didn’t have the money to replace anything, and decided to trust the redhead. Boots it was. No matter how stupid he looked.

He had half an hour in the Jeep to watch the ranger. She was far more interesting than the Everglades scenery, her short red hair tied up in a haphazard ponytail under her hat, very businesslike. She was much more pulled together than the last time he’d seen her, arresting him for plant smuggling. He’d laughed when she showed up with her gray-haired partner, but their backup had been no laughing matter. She’d cried over the plants in his bag as he was being taken away.

Every so often she’d peek over at him, and he wasn’t sure what that look in her green eyes meant. Clearly she was suspicious of him, which was fair. He was a notoriously suspicious character. What was surprising was that she wasn’t afraid of him. He’d pulled a knife on her the first time. What was to keep him from doing that again, alone with her out here?

She finally stopped in the middle of nowhere. Absolute middle of nowhere. No cell service, not a building to be seen, nothing but road and sky and swamp. He could hear the mosquitoes already. She wasn’t going to make him go out there in that, was she?

She was. She slapped a clipboard into his hands and slung a bag over her shoulder. “Today we’re checking on some wildlife, mapping abandoned nests and counting eggs.” She watched him for a moment, then stepped forward into him. She might be tiny, but she was angry, and he had to consciously keep himself from stepping back. Her finger drilled into his breastbone. “I’m trusting you. What you’ve done is terrible, but Zen and I think you can learn better. Don’t disappoint us.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He wanted to kick himself, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. She looked slightly mollified, turning on her heel and marching out into the muck. Obi took a deep breath, watching her go, and followed.

The ground underfoot took some getting used to, rock underneath, water on top, and snot in the middle. He caught up to her just rounding a clump of shrubbery, and there it was. “Is that-”

“I’m trusting you.” She sighed, and turned to face what he’d stopped to stare at. “One of the largest cowhorn orchids I know of. I wish it weren’t so close to the road . . . Did you know these used to be common? Now there are barely any left. And the biggest threat to them is people.” He’d seen pictures when he’d been given the orchid hunting job, and the price of one of those was amazing. But the ranger was still talking, reading off GPS coordinates. “Make a note. Cowhorn orchid, untouched.”

By the time he was done writing (he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually used pen on paper, why couldn’t they use phones like normal people) she’d found a comparatively dry spot and pulled what looked like a toy out of her bag. Obi squelched over to look over her shoulder. “Hold your hands out,” she demanded, then set the tiny drone flat across his hands. A momentary whir, a puff of air, and it was airborne, arrowing right for a hole in a tree.

Her shoulders slumped as the drone hovered at the hole. “Add ‘nest abandoned’ to the notes for these coordinates.” She took it personally, as though the birds who had lived there were friends of hers. The drone plopped to the ground at her feet and she packed it away again.

Two hours later, they'd found two more abandoned nests and Obi’s legs were tired. He was not used to this kind of hiking, and the seemingly infinite bottles of water Shirayuki carried weren't helping much anymore. She'd fallen quiet after the last nest, her enthusiasm for explaining every single plant they passed finally dimmed. It surprised him how much he missed the chatter, but the prospect of solid ground ahead was unimaginably appealing.

The sound of a car door echoed across the swamp, and they both paused to listen. Nobody else should be out here.

“I don’t understand why we’re stopping next to the ranger’s car. I thought we wanted to keep this quiet!” A whiny male voice intruded on the whispers of the wind and grass. They were no longer alone.

“If there’s a ranger here, there must be something to see. They wouldn’t just stop on the side of the road for no reason, idiot,” explained a female second voice. This one Obi recognized, the same woman who’d talked him into the orchid job in the first place. This was bad. Maybe they could lure them away somewhere else or scare them off?

While Obi was thinking, Shirayuki walked. Out into open water she sloshed, facing the new arrivals as they pushed their way out of the cypresses. “This is a restricted conservation area. You’re going to need to head back to your car.”

The poachers grinned, neither at all intimidated by the tiny park ranger confronting them. As if they were in a television show, they pulled out guns in unison and Obi’s heart skipped a beat. He had no reason to take the ranger’s side over the poachers’. He’d worked with them in the past. He’d known her less than a day. But he liked the way she explained things to him, the way she took all the plants and animals so seriously. He didn’t want anything to happen to her.

He ghosted as quietly as he could from one cypress stump to the next, to a clump of sawgrass, then another. As he finally drew close enough, they were still arguing. Shirayuki was rattling off statistics about the dwindling population of cowhorn orchids and using science-sounding words he’d never heard before. The poachers weren’t impressed, but neither were they in a hurry.

Sprinting in knee-deep water was never an easy proposition, but he managed, shouting as he got close to make sure guns were pointed at him and not Shirayuki. He leaped on Torou, slapping the gun from her hand and yanking her arm around. A fraction of a second after he had her arm twisted behind her back, he had his own gun out and pointed at the other poacher. “Drop it,” he ordered, and the other man’s gun disappeared into the water with a splash.

Shirayuki was already on her phone, rattling off coordinates and demanding immediate backup. Once that was complete, she glared at Obi. “You’re not supposed to have that.”

He jiggled the gun, the poacher still in his sights blanching at the motion. “I don’t go anywhere unarmed, Miss.”

“Well, you’d better put it away before Mitsuhide and Kiki get here, unless you’d rather jail time than community service.” He actually thought about it a minute, but no. Air conditioned boredom was not preferable to this. Slogging through the swamp with Shirayuki was at least interesting.

So he disappeared the gun when the car door sounded. The Mitsuhide and Kiki she’d called were the same rangers who arrested him. They clearly recognized him, but didn’t say anything.

“Zen’s going to be upset he wasn’t here for this,” Mitsuhide offered Shirayuki with a smile.

“It’s okay, I had my bodyguard to take care of me,” she chirped back, and how was she even for real? Obi had to look away, shuffling his feet through the muck to help feel for the missing gun. Assuming park police were just like the city breed, they didn’t like leaving weapons lying around. Her smile made him feel guilty, the gun she disapproved of weighing heavily in his pocket.

Torou shouted insults as she was led away, and Obi knew that was one segment of the Miami underground who wouldn’t be hiring him anymore. Good thing his orchid-stealing days were over anyway.

Car doors slammed, the engine whirred into the distance, and they were once again alone in the middle of nowhere. “So for rescuing you,” Obi purred, “do I get a reward? Maybe a kiss from the princess?”

“Nice try,” she clapped back. “No, I overlook the existence of the gun in your pants.”

That was too good an opportunity to pass up, just too good. “There’s something in my pants I’m sure-”

“Obi.” She was done with the conversation. “Don’t bring the gun tomorrow.” That was no fun at all when she wouldn’t even react. “Come on, we have a gator nest to check next.”

“Tomorrow.” Briefly, he had forgotten that he was going to be doing this all month. He watched Shirayuki tuck a lock of hair back into her hat, leaving a streak of mud along her cheek. She certainly wasn’t boring. Needed someone to look after her, too. Anything could happen in a month.

Chapter Text

Back when this was a game, it had never been so loud.

The roar of the frost giants had been tinny in her damaged headphones, the cackle of the imps nothing more than an annoyance. The shouts of her comrades had been merely spells and encouragement, layered with the strategies and status reports of the players.

It was nothing like this.

The hard ice floor is scarred with the marks of fire blasts, cracked with the force of explosions and pitted with runnels of acid. She adjusts her stance, careful not to slip. Just because she isn’t part of the advance team didn’t mean she doesn’t have to watch herself. Her time will come.

Kai and Shiira limp past, pulling back from the front. She presses heal potions into their hands, since they have the time. Any bit of help she can provide helps save the faster healers for the final assault.

“Can I get one of those?” Obi appears beside her, as usual invisible until he wants to be seen.

“Are you injured?” She runs her eyes over him, looking for injuries, for poison, for frostbite, fearing the worst.

“No.” He laughs, then drops his voice and her heart skips. “I’d rather something else from you, if you can spare it.”

Even now. She smiles back, and the world around them goes sharp-edged with Obi’s cloak of shadows. He can only hide them both for a few seconds, but it’s enough. His kiss is serious, so far from his customary playfulness she pulls back to look him in the eyes. “What’s wrong?”

The cloak shimmers and fizzles out, misty shades of the ice cavern returning. “This is it,” he answers. Behind him Zen paces, his eyes fixed on the far side of the cavern. Is he waiting for the battle, or what comes after? There’s no knowing.

“But that’s the idea.” Defeat this encounter, destroy the device hidden in the ice caverns, and go home. Or wake up. Or whatever it takes to fix what's wrong with all of them. It’ll be over today.

His voice is flat. “I know.” He steps back, and red flickers play across his face as Kiki re-summons her flaming swords. “It’s important. I just-”

The rumbling starts below the threshold of hearing, a tingling in the toes and the depths of her chest. Cracked ice moans as the sound grows louder, deeper. Warriors cluster and shields flare to life around the cavern. An icicle the size of a car slivers loose and crashes to the floor, peppering everyone’s ankles with sprays of ice. Shirayuki tosses Obi a poison charm, which he catches one-handed. His knives flare with darkness as he draws them loose. Mitsuhide finishes his chant, armor blazing white.

“I’m just not sure I’m ready,” Obi confesses, breathless, rushing through the words as though this is his only chance. Perhaps he’s right, as before Shirayuki can ask what he meant, the ground heaves under her feet.

When this was a game, falling down meant a three second cooldown timer. Not scrambling for a grasp on ice tilting like a ship in a storm, washing against Zen, banging into Kiki, dropping half a dozen crafted and summoned items and watching them go skittering away past her fingertips. The battering stops, sure-footed Obi pulls her to her feet, and he’s gone. The next anyone will see of him is with his knives in the neck of the dragon spreading her wings in the center of the cavern.

No screen did her justice. They’d never known the Queen of Ice was made of rainbows. Reflections scatter though the cavern as she fans her wings, stretches her neck, and Shirayuki is all but mesmerized.

The dragon’s screech and Zen’s shout break the spell together. He charges, Mitsuhide’s unbreakable bulk protecting his back and Kiki singing haste by his side. Obi’s there too, somewhere, his survival skills and hunger for challenge drowning out whatever had worried him before. Nothing makes Obi happier than fighting something that could kill him with a look, and they don’t come bigger than the Queen of Ice.

The dragon’s allies burst through the far wall, and the reserve force cuts them off. Kihal’s birds wheel and dive, scattering at the concussions of Suzu’s explosions. Izana’s firebreathing mount dissolves in a spray of pixels and he lays on with his sword. They have to hold, they have to keep the battle separated-

Lightning cracks, Garrack and Shidan bringing their sorcery to bear, and the raid starts to blur. Shirayuki does her best, pulling healing potions for people with the time to drink them, minor charms for anyone they could help. Her limited store of mana potions go to Ryuu, whose staff glows constantly with heal spells. Obi flickers in and out, drawing gashes across rainbow scales every time.

The dragon rears up, wings thrashing, and everyone takes cover. Shields and silencing spells make domes like islands in the ice. The everpresent crack of ice and chorus of shouts disappear under Shirayuki's own silencing charm, so that when the dragon’s maw gapes, she hears nothing but blessed silence. Freed from the ensorcelled terror that would send her running, should she hear even a single note, she admires the spectra scattered from the edges of its teeth.

Most people hunker down during the roar, waiting to attack when the way is clear. Not so Obi. Over and over he flicks into being, shattering scales, tearing a wing, slicing tendons. The crowd surges back to renew their attack, just as the flailing tail catches him full in the side.

She’s running before he hits the ground, but he’s on his feet already by the time she reaches him. The scar on his forehead pulls his scowl into something dark and menacing.

“Are you hurt?” It’s probably a silly question, because after that flight he surely took some damage, but he shrugs it off.

“Nothing that needs to be dealt with. I’ll take it out of her hide. You should get back, miss. We’re going to need you.”

“I’m not sure she has a-” He’s gone, back into the fight like a shark when blood’s in the water. “Hide.” Obi’s all business during a fight, even his legendary sense of humor muted to the rarest of moments. And it’s not the time for joking.

The Queen of Ice squeals again, and Shirayuki nearly loses her footing turning to see. The dragon’s scales are shattered like broken glass now, blackened with the paths of lightning bolts and pincushioned with weapons. She shivers, giving one last toss of her head, and Obi clings, holding tight to his knives buried in the back of her neck. Her final screech cuts off as she dissolves in a spray of light, scales and weapons falling in rattling piles.

There’s no treasure chest this time, no reward for defeating the dragon. Just a hole in the ice that Obi is falling into, twisting like a cat to land on his feet. She has to assume he succeeded, because she's not going to believe something as simple as a hole in the ground could defeat him.

It’s still a long minute before his voice echoes up the passage and Shirayuki remembers to breathe. “The coast is clear, no enemies down here.”

Zen chooses to surf the walls instead of waiting, and by the time Shirayuki’s slow-fall charm sets her gently on her feet in the dragon’s lair, he’s already halfway through raking Obi over the coals. “If you ever do this again-” he hisses, cutting himself off.

“There won’t be another,” answers Obi, sharp and solid with confidence if not full of enthusiasm. That sadness is back, now that the adrenaline of combat is fading from his face. “Come on, it’s this way.”

The entire raid follows, witches and druids shoulder to shoulder with berserkers and paladins. Everyone wants to be there when it ends, when they’re free. The dragon’s nest fits them all, spires and coils of ice starting to drip in the presence of so many bodies. Shirayuki wants to know how and why, how something that was just a game pulled them in and become so much more, why them. But that has to wait. For now, it’s her turn.

The silver box in the center of the nest is incongruous, neither magical nor rustic. It’s not something crafted here, not something an NPC would understand or a dragon could use. It looks like an ancient computer, in fact, the big ones that sent astronauts to the moon. A single light burns on the front, just the color of Obi’s eyes. She can’t see him in the crowd; he’s hiding from her.

After, after. There will be time when they’re free.

She draws a seed from her pocket, safe despite all her falls and nearly weightless in her hand. The product of countless hours of work, Garrack’s experience and Ryuu’s genius and Shirayuki’s steady hand, it'll be their freedom. It fizzes against her palm, eager, and she reshapes it. If the lock had been a nest, the egg would have hatched. If it had been a gate, dynamite would have blown it up.

For communicating with a computer, a stack of cards. She doesn’t have to be able to read them; they know what they say, what they do. The Olin Maris is a key and at the same time a door.

With an echoing clank, she sets the cards in the hopper. “Goodbye, love,” Obi whispers in her ear, as invisible and intangible as the wind, and the cards start to feed.

Everything goes black.

For a moment she fears she’s failed, that this is just another death, another moment in between lives before she reappears at her bind point. But it persists, imagination superposing glowing shapes on the blackness that goes on forever. Alone and empty.

The glowing square, when it appears, is a relief. The letters that follow are a blessing.

Friend: StateofYo has left the server
Friend: NotYourDad has left the server
Friend: Kiki has left the server

The cursor blinks, waiting.

Friend: KeepYourPantsOn has left the server
Logging out in 15 seconds . . .

The blackness eats itself, flattening into nothingness.

****

Obi stares at the dragon poster hanging above his computer. It’s nice to be home, he supposes. He’s been telling himself that for three days now. It’s good that he still has a home, good that he’d only been in the hospital two weeks. Especially good that somebody found him in time. They’d wondered what had happened to the ones who disappeared in the first week. They’d hoped it meant it would be possible to get out someday. They never seriously considered that those who remained were the lucky ones.

He should really go order pizza or something. Or get a granola bar. Food is important. If he felt like walking, he could be at the smoothie place in five minutes.

He doesn’t go. The dragon stares back. He’d fought- He’d killed a dragon. With his hands. A knife left over from some earlier meal glitters at him from the desk, and he picks it up. It feels right in his hand. He feels right with it. Until he tries to spin it, the simplest and most basic of motions, and the knife bounces off the desk, leaving greasy smears across papers and clattering to the floor. It’s not real. He remembers things his body never did. He’s not entirely real anymore.

He misses Shirayuki.

He knows she’s all right; she’s posted to the Survivors of Sunrise Legion community several times in the last couple of days. He’s typed responses half a dozen times, only to delete every one. She’s brilliant and generous and perfect. She’d liked him.

She’d liked Obi, mysterious, tragically scarred, and supremely competent rogue. Not Obi, reasonably competent a/c and heating technician. A man muddling through life, putting in enough effort to get along but having very little to show for it. He has nothing.

She deserves better.

The door buzzer sounds, wheezing after the first burst like making the sound is just too much work. He’s not expecting anyone. His gait is steady enough on the way to the door, breaking the the arc of freezer-meal boxes and granola bar wrappers around his desk chair. He may have told a few fibs to the therapists to get out of the hospital early, but the least he can do is walk. He unlatches the deadbolt - he’ll never use the chain again, not after what they had to do to his door to get to him - turns the handle, and-

Red.

It has to be her. She smiles.

“Obi?” The look on her face is heartbreaking, the hope in her eyes. If he lied, said no, she'd never know what a mistake she'd avoided. It would be a mercy.

But he can't. He can't lie to her. “How did you find me?”

She deflates at least an inch, tension flowing out of her as she hears his voice. He steps back, opening the door wider, and she marches inside. “Kiki,” she says, eyes roaming in an effort to keep from meeting his, keep from staring at the mess. He waits, because that's not enough of an answer. “She didn’t tell me the details, but she apparently has resources.”

“That’s putting it mildly, given she didn’t know my full name.”

“Some kind of investigative reporter magic.” She shrugs, giving up on trying not to look at the room and settling her gaze somewhere in the vicinity of his neck. He swallows, and her breath catches. “She says you’re on her Christmas card list now, and there’s nothing you can do about it. It was nice to hear her voice again when she called this afternoon, and-” She trailed off.

She sounds nervous. “Are you okay, miss?”

“I’m fine.” The speed she says it with doesn’t give him confidence. “It’s just- Kiki called and I ran for the bus, and now I’m feeling like I should have asked you first, instead of just showing up. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”

“Wait.” This afternoon? “How far did you-”

“Only about an hour,” she chirps. “I took the bus.”

A lock of her hair has come loose, lying against her neck like a lure he can’t resist. He wants to touch it, to tuck it back for her. “I should have guessed your hair would be red.”

She looks down again, bashful, and that doesn’t help how much he wants to touch her. “It wasn’t, before. I dyed it to keep something of her.”

He wishes he could hold on to his other self so easily. He considers saying that, because she of all people might understand, but he’s pathetic enough. Why rush to prove it to her?

She chatters on, changing the subject with relief. “I’m supposed to report back when I’ve seen you, because everybody’s been wondering where you are.”

“Everybody?”

“Well, Mitsuhide hasn’t been around much. It sounds like the kids aren’t giving him much of a break. But Zen wanted you to know he’s going to be in town on business next month, and he’s looking forward to seeing you.” This, at last, feels normal. She chatters, tiny and red-haired beside him, and for a moment he can forget he’s not that Obi, not the one she fell in love with. She’s a comfort. He’s missed her so much.

“I’ve missed you so much.” She interrupts herself to say it, as though she’s reading his mind, and when he looks down her eyes are waiting for him. They’re green, more beautiful than he ever could have imagined. He just falls in, everything he was about to say deserting him, not that he truly had anything coherent.

She makes the first move, touching him for the first time, her fingers circling his wrists. She’s gentle, curious, and he wants to sigh, melt, sit down, pull her to him and wrap her in his arms- he freezes.

She pulls back, voice small and tight. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”

“No, please. I like it, I just-” Surely there's some way this could be more awkward, but he can't imagine how.

She's still stressed, still pulling in on herself. “I understand if I'm not what you were hoping for.”

What? She's still her, and she's real, and she came looking for him when he tried to hide. She is not the problem here. “You're perfect,” he says. “I almost can't believe it. I'm not handling this well at all.”

“You're not disappointed?”

“I have no idea how that could even be possible. But you-” He draws a deep breath. She needs the truth, she needs to hear this or she won't know. He understands her well enough to know it's unavoidable. “You should be disappointed with me.”

Even her confusion is cute. She tilts her head like a puppy. “I don't see why I should be any different.” She steps in, raising her hands to bracket his face. “I didn't fall in love with a video game character. I fell for you. I miss you, and I want you in my life. The real you. And I'd like to spend more time with you in the real world. I don't think I have another game in me, for a while.” Her eyes are irresistible. “If you would like that.”

If he would like that. As if she weren't offering something he'd barely even let himself dream. He leans into her hands, his own stubble sharp on his skin. He hasn't even shaved in days, and she still looks at him like this. “There is nothing I want more.”

She smiles with everything, eyes and teeth and cheeks and it might be a cliche, but he can swear the entire room lights up. Again she reaches for his hand, sliding her fingers between his own. They both stare at their entwined hands a second, and then she’s flinging her other arm around him, pressing her cheek against his chest. “Your heartbeat,” she says, delighted, and he doesn’t have breath to respond. “You’re real.”

“You’re real too,” he murmurs, and it’s all he needs right now. He doesn’t have to go back to who he was before, and he doesn’t have to try to be someone he isn’t. They can be something new, together.

Chapter Text

It seems backward that the world looks so much sharper when he’s hidden, that the creature of the shadows would live so constantly in bright colors, but that’s the way it goes in this game. He prowls the rocks just off the road watching for prey, whether a wandering pegasus or an unwary traveler.

As if in answer to his idle thought, the sound of footsteps precedes a very unwary traveler indeed. A knight, apparently, clattering in armor with a massive sword rattling at his side. Obi wagers with himself that a single strike will take him down.

He’s but an arm’s length away, backstab attack already processing, when he realizes by how much he’s already won that wager. He knows the armor, remembers it from a short-lived alt. It’s the very first set, gifted on the starter island. He’s just about to smite a newb.

He cancels the attack, disgruntled. He may be the scourge of this zone, a name known only through curses on the server forums, a player killer extraordinaire, but he has standards. He doesn’t knock over level two characters for their first ten gold pieces.

The newb spins as Obi fizzes into visibility beside him. He doesn’t draw his sword.

“I think you’re lost,” Obi offers. “The zone border is back down the road the way you came.”

See what gratitude he gets for trying to be helpful. The guy just stands there. Obi shrugs to himself and hits his invisibility cloak. Rude people in an MMO are nothing new. The guy’ll get eaten by the wildlife any minute now, and see who wouldn’t be dragging his corpse out of danger.

A whisper pops up on his screen. “You kill characters?”

It’s from the newb, who’s still standing there in the road. Maybe he’s been typing all this time. “I do,” Obi answers, then feels obligated to explain again. “You really shouldn’t be standing around in the open in this zone, you’re going to-”

He doesn’t finish typing before the next whisper shows up. “Want to earn some money?”

He backspaces through the advice, wondering what exactly he’s stumbled on. “I’m listening,” he types instead, and waits.

“I need someone to quit this game, and I’m willing to offer a reward to see that she does.”

That gives him only a moment of pause. He’s not usually a griefer, far more into knocking random people out in the middle of nowhere and stealing their gear, but if there’s money involved? Not much of a downside here. “Tell me who, and I’m on it.”

-----

Shirayuki knew that playing a female avatar was risky, especially on a PVP server, but she didn’t anticipate this level of harassment. Every time she logs in, she dies. Every time she leaves a town, she dies. The first day it’s weird.

The first week is a bit upsetting.

Then it just gets funny.

She hits him with a blind charm, somehow, and he misses his swing. It’s the same rogue it is every day, swathed in black right up to his gold eyes. She chortles, pleased to be on her feet for another round, and throws a bag of caltrops in his face. He shoots her in the back long before she makes it to cover.

The next time, she manages to hit a dive-roll just right and evades for half damage. If nothing else, she’s getting much stronger at defensive moves from all of this. He’s swooping for the finishing blow when her transmogrification charm splatters against his chest, and Shirayuki leaps from her chair in joy. It was a risky move, because he could have ended up an ogre, a vampire bat, a wyrm, or something even more dangerous. What she gets is a chicken.

He pecks at her feet, and she can’t even hit the keys from laughing so hard. When the charm drops, there are still too many tears in her eyes to do anything but die under his knives. It’s worth it.

“Ha ha,” comes a whisper, lacking any punctuation to clue her in. Did he find this as funny as she did? Or is he annoyed with her? Either way, good.

“This is ridiculous,” Zen sends to the guild chat. She's mentioned the rogue in passing a few times, but not until today did they pry out just how continuous the harassment has been. He really doesn’t need to worry about it, but that’s the kind of guild leader Zen is. If you pick a fight with one member of Wistal, you fight them all. “We’re going to teach this guy a lesson.”

---

Her dive-roll doesn’t work so well this time, so Shirayuki gets to watch the fracas over the view of her avatar’s awkwardly sprawled corpse. The rogue fights back for a moment, outnumbered and rendered powerless by Zen’s true seeing and Kiki’s blade arts. By the time Kiki has him chained in place, barely a sliver of his life remaining, Mitsuhide’s finished raising her with a chant.

“How many times has he killed you now?” Zen’s anger is palpable. She doesn’t need voice chat, she can all but feel it through his typing.

She stopped counting some time ago. “Twenty-two,” the rogue offers up, unapologetic. “I’m done, now, though. Clearly you’re not going anywhere, so I’ve been defeated. I yield.”

“What should we do with him?” Zen vents on guild chat while Kiki refreshes the chains.

“I don’t think we could kill him that many times if we wanted to,” says Mitsuhide.

“I've never been turned into a chicken before, that was hilarious,” the rogue continues. “You should probably upgrade your armor, though.”

“We could kill him once and steal his pants,” offers Kiki.

“We could call him out on the forums, now that we know his name.” Zen wants blood.

Shirayuki just watches him wait, jabbering away in open chat, a blot of black against the green of the forest. Kiki’s chains dissolve into pixels, and still the rogue stands there watching her in return.

Shirayuki’s cursor hovers over the “Invite to guild” button, and she clicks.

Chapter Text

“It’s a deconstruction of fairy tale paradigms,” Kiki says with a straight face, passing out scripts. One for Zen, one for Shirayuki, one for Shikito, and she pauses in front of Obi. “Good and evil, the mundane and the magical. True love.” She drops the last in his lap and takes her own seat.

“We assigned roles already, no need for auditions,” Mitsuhide continues with an uncertain peek at Kiki. Obi can read between the lines; it was her idea. Not that anyone knows why she’s even in a playwriting class. They're used to it from Mitsuhide, a breadth of creative pursuits a prerequisite for his art therapy goals, but Kiki’s degree program is custom-designed, multidisciplinary, and incomprehensible to everyone but her and her advisor. Assuming even her advisor can say no to her, which Obi doubts.

For a few minutes, the room is quiet, the only sounds breathing and the turning of pages. Kiki’s all smirk and sideways glances, not reassuring in the least.

“This is a lot of lines,” Shirayuki murmurs, mostly to herself. She’s chemistry, not theater, just helping out friends out of the goodness of her heart. Kiki should be ashamed of herself.

Zen reads faster than any of the others. Obi’s only read a couple of pages, enough to get the distinct impression that he’s being set up as the villain as usual, thanks a lot, Kiki, but when Zen’s suddenly flipping pages back and forth and all but growling it gets his attention.

“The rogue knight kisses the princess,” Zen complains, carefully not looking at Obi. He’s going to be the handsome prince, of course, no matter how petulant he’s looking at the moment. "And I don't."

Mitsuhide squirms, but Kiki is unmoved. “Reversal of tropes,” she counters.

Obi, for his part, is skimming now. He’ll enjoy the villain monologues, eventually, and he and Shikito will have fun with the stage combat, but he can’t breathe until he knows what Zen’s talking about.

It’s on the last page, a simple stage direction. “Sir Nero backs her against the wall and kisses her.” Everyone’s reading it now, and nobody is looking at anyone else except Shirayuki. Her eyes are right on Obi, spots of pink in her cheeks as she stares, and yet somehow he doesn’t feel judged. He doesn’t know what she’s thinking though, and before he knows it he’s as slouched in his seat, as small as someone his height can possibly get.

“Where’s the rest?” Zen breaks the awkward silence again, and Obi flips the last page. Sure enough, it ends there.

“We’re making final adjustments,” Kiki allows, her eyes on Obi. “We’ll finish it in time, don’t worry.”

***

Zen stalks into rehearsal with a chip on his shoulder. Clearly Obi isn’t the only one to have argued with the playwrights, but Kiki stands firm and refuses to move or change one word. Shirayuki, by Zen’s side, lays a hand on his arm and chides him; Obi can’t hear words but he knows that disappointed look on her face far too well. Zen doesn’t have much to say back to her, but he does peck her on the lips when they part. Obi can’t look away, but if you asked him, it doesn’t look like Shirayuki was expecting it, and the look on Zen’s face as he turns away from her is absolutely unnecessary. His eyes zero right in on Obi, and it’s not like he’s done anything to deserve it at all.

At least things settle down once they get into character. They’ve read around a table a couple of times, enough to start feeling the rhythm of the story. So far as it goes, at least. Every time someone brings up the missing last act, Kiki just smiles and makes the weakest excuses. Mitsuhide just sighs.

Adding the blocking just sets them even deeper into character. Obi’s still holding a bit of a grudge about his part, but the first costume fitting this morning had reconciled him a bit. There were very cool boots, a suspicious number of knives for a so-called knight, and a very tempting half-cape. He’s going to look awesome on stage. So he’s more enthusiastic as they go- the villain monologue rolls off his tongue so naturally and the fiendish plot executes like a charm- and before he really registers it, he’s facing Shirayuki down against a wall.

She’s pale now, in the stage lights.

“Don’t knock over the set, we’ll have it reinforced by the actual performance,” Kiki calls out, then settles back into her director’s chair. She brought her own, with her name on it and everything. Obi sneers back. As though he’ll even touch her. Not on a rehearsal, with her - with Zen right there watching.

He steps up close, because that he can do. He can use his body to fill the space, can menace with the best of them. He leans in, moving slowly so as not to spook her, and whispers, Don’t worry, miss, I’m not going to make trouble.”

There’s a furrow between her eyebrows when he pulls back, a moment of silence where he can contemplate the way the stage lights somehow makes the green of her eyes even deeper. He keeps his distance, generally, has made a constant practice of not seeing her this close. So he savors it, a rare opportunity.

“Again.” Kiki’s voice, never raised, echoes in the hush of the theater. “There was no intimidation, no heat. No kiss. Don’t tell me you’re all talk, Obi.”

She doesn’t have to elaborate. He’s said things- lots of things- and most of them were true, but he doesn’t need Kiki pulling out receipts here and now. The look he beams her on the way back to his starting point is a warning that she, of course, declines to acknowledge. “The sooner you get it right, the sooner we can move on.”

She’s impossible. Shirayuki’s lips tighten in a “what can you do?” face, Obi blinks a preemptive apology, and this time he puts a bit more menace into his stalk across the stage.

It’s not in Shirayuki’s nature to cringe, but she makes an effort, drawing back from his closeness, and he has an idea. One hand comes up to catch her chin, tipping it up, and he bends down to make a much better showing of not-quite kissing her. It’s easier, with her chin stabilized, to look close enough without actual contact.

Kiki doesn’t look fooled, but she lets it slide. Zen pulls Shirayuki away for another round of intense whispering before Kiki circles everyone up for commentary.

***

The next day, she heads Obi off between scenes. “Do it right, Obi. No faking this time.”

“Why does it matter?” She’s not this adamant about any of the other details, not Kai constantly stepping on Shikito’s lines or Zen’s constant inability to remember where he’s left his crown.

The answer is silence, just long enough for Obi to know how much trouble he’s in. “Are you questioning my artistic vision?”

There’s only one right answer to that question, because Obi does have at least that much of a sense of self-preservation. He shakes his head.

“Do you want Mitsuhide to fail?” That he’s not touching with a ten-foot pole, because theoretically Kiki would get the same grade, but there’s a right answer here too. More head-shaking. “Then you know what to do.”

Well, at least Kiki will still eat lunch with him after Shirayuki and Zen aren’t speaking to him anymore. He flops a hand at her in some kind of assent, and slouches to his first mark.

All through the rehearsal, he thinks he’s going to do what he’s told. He’s going to bring the heat, he’s going to plant one on Shirayuki and finally get Kiki off his back. He stalks across the stage with every intent of doing so, but as always her big green eyes haul him up short. It’s trust she’s facing him with, and while he can still angle his body like he wants to, bend down with all the menace he’s supposed to project, as soon as he feels her breath on his lips, he pulls back.

His lower lip brushes hers in the motion, anyway, and in the tight space there’s no way she can miss the way his breath catches. He’s playing with fire here, giving in to Kiki’s goading. But maybe, just maybe, she didn’t see him lose his nerve.

“When are we getting the last act?” Zen breaks the scene, and Obi steps back. Shirayuki’s motionless where he left her, only her hand twitching and her eyes following him.

“Still working on it.” Kiki waves a hand. “Everybody back up to the duel, I want to see that last scene one more time.” Obi meets her eyes, and the message is as clear as daylight. She saw, and there will be repercussions if he doesn’t get it right next time.

So with a whole scene to prepare, he’s ready the next time. He’s an actor, he can do this, it’s not like she’s the woman he’s secretly dreamed of kissing for longer than he’s ever been hung up on a person before. He lays his lips against hers, only just the lightest touch, and this time hers is the breath that gets held. Slowly he pulls back, having forgotten how he’s supposed to be leaving the scene, and after a moment of silence he looks down at their tyrant of a director. She nods.

***

So that’s the normal for the rest of the week. Every day there’s more of the set assembled, piles of featureless cubes and pyramids standing in for the world around them. Every day Obi kisses Shirayuki, sometimes twice or more if Kiki’s not happy. Every time his heart sits a bit crooked in his chest, and every day Zen watches him.

On Thursday Obi’s just picking up his morning coffee at the convenience store when Zen catches him in the door. “Oh good, I was hoping to catch you alone.”

The temptation to invent a deadline and get away is almost irresistible, but Obi has a lot of practice. He resists, idling by the door while Zen picks up a donut and an energy drink. “Those aren’t good for your heart, you know,” Obi points out as they push through the door, the bell and the morning sun both more than he really wants to be dealing with already.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do.” They cross the road into the shade. “Given how you feel about her, it’s big of you.”

Obi sighs. They don’t talk about this. It’s been months, and Zen had been drunk- Obi had fallen back into the feeling that his secret was safe. Mistakenly. “I-”

“You don’t need to say anything, I just wanted you to know I’m not upset.” Could have fooled Obi, with the death glares Zen’s leveling at him on the daily. Obi’s peripheral vision is that good.

He makes further use of it now, watching Zen walking by his side. He seems sincere, which Obi’s always accepted with relief. But today it just irritates him. Zen and Shirayuki don’t have a defined relationship, and here Zen is acting magnanimous for not being jealous and pushy. Jealous and superior is just so much better. “See you later,” Obi says, stopping by a set of entry stairs. It doesn’t much matter what building it is right now, he just needs to be out of this conversation before he says anything he can’t take back.

Zen looks up at the sign, startled. Well he might be, wondering what Obi has going on in the agricultural engineering building, but even cooking up excuses will be preferable to this. Thankfully Zen just waves and moves on, brushing at the sugar his donut’s left on his sweater.

Obi feels like he’s just been checked off a list, somewhere between breakfast and paying the internet bill, and it makes him tense. Hostile, even. The feeling’s no better by the time he reaches the break room in the basement of the chemistry building.

The room’s its usual sort of dim, lit through high-up windows set below ground level and a couple of fluorescent fixtures that are probably older than he is. Shirayuki’s folded double on the orange-gray couch, snoozing in her anatomy book. There’d be a joke in that if she were awake enough to appreciate it.

Obi watches her for just a moment, because he’s that far gone and it’s the first time today he’s hasn’t felt under attack. Just before it starts to make him feel guilty, he drops his backpack onto the table and she jolts up out of the book.

“Am I going to have to start instituting bed checks?”

She blinks, and he counts out her reaction time. Ten seconds, at least, to make words. “I didn’t sleep here.”

He makes a show of checking the time on his phone, then raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t,” she continues, and a lock of hair droops out of the messy bun to lie along her neck. It’ll be straight and shiny when she’s in costume as the lost princess, very pretty but not nearly as good as she looks just like this. “Yuzuri got up for spin class, and it woke me up, so I came to study.”

“I see it worked for you. Did you dream about muscles?”

She doesn’t have a snappy comeback for that one, just staring at him all pink for a moment before she looks down to slam her book. There’s still a line from the book on her cheek. “No, irregular verbs,” she answers eventually, trading the anatomy book for French. He can still see it through the holes in her backpack- it’s a marvel she can still get the bag to close, the way she packs it.

Surely there was some better choice that he could have made, picking classes this semester. Shirayuki is the only reason he’s not failing French 1, and today they’ve established that Obi does not connaître anything he’s supposed to know for tomorrow’s test, but she’s not launching into her usual disappointed face and gentle nag. He generally finds it very motivational, and to be deprived of it today just tightens the screws on the bad mood he’s trying not to share.

She puts her pen down with a click and sighs, and he sets down the flash cards because that’s the sound of something incoming that he doesn’t want to miss. “Obi?” Here it comes, his scolding. “About the play. I feel like you’re uncomfortable with that last scene.”

That would be one way to put it, although “personally attacked” might be closer to his true feelings.

“I’m sorry Kiki’s making you do something you don’t want to do. I just wanted to say that if it’s bothering you because of me, you don’t need to worry. It’s okay, really. I don’t mind.” Her eyes drop from his, and really it’s nice of her to think of him, but it’s only a few more days. He just needs to learn the last act whenever Kiki deigns to hand it over and survive one performance. Then he can go back to his appropriate distance, where he’s so much less likely to slip.

“It’s not that,” he says, then realizes that explaining would be the very definition of slipping. Hunching his shoulders, he tries to hide behind the French book. “Did you make flash cards for savoir?”

***

Kiki pulls him aside when they get to the black box for practice. Shirayuki looks back, just a moment, then finds her mark for the dream sequence and starts practicing steps. Last time she knocked over half the set on an ill-advised spin- putting Shirayuki in a long dress and giving her a dance was just asking for trouble. Shiira, all in black, hovers protectively by the nearest stack of cubes.

“I’m still waiting for you to do it right. You want to wrap your arms around her and press her body to yours. You want to kiss her so thoroughly she’s ruined.”

“I-” She wasn’t supposed to know, but the images she’s called up are overwhelming and there’s probably no doubt left about how right she is from the look on his face.

“Sir Nero wants this more than anything.” Kiki turns and walks away, not even staying to watch the ice water she’s doused him with. Of course she meant his character, of course.

The embarrassment settles into its cocoon as they work their way through the play. He draws on its power to fuel his villainous speeches, sets himself against it in the duel. But at least he stands there across the stage from her, staring down the captive princess that Sir Nero wants so badly, and it hatches in his chest, unfurling itself into full-grown frustration. It pushes him across the stage, wanting.

At first he’s just going to place his lips against hers again, maybe a little more forcefully this time. Since everyone has such opinions about his kissing. But he slips, mouth sliding against mouth maybe just a millimeter, but it’s so much better than before and so much better than he hoped and if she’s not mad and this is what Kiki wants so much-

He lets himself go.

The flyaway hairs at the back of her neck tickle his fingers before he knows he’s even moved his hand, but since it’s there he steadies the back of her neck. For the safety of the set, of course, and not because she presses into him at the touch, her own hands settling on his chest like butterflies. There’s no push to them, just a caress.

He switches his angle, lips sliding against hers again and falling open as he tilts the other way and she chases him with a tiny grunt. The blood in his veins ignites at her motion- Kiki wasn’t wrong, he wants nothing more than to ruin her, to be the one to show her how she deserves to be loved and then to try to live up to it-

He’s supposed to be acting. They’re on stage.

When he pulls back, mouths separating with a tiny pop, he pauses a moment to breathe in the same air, to extend the amount of time he gets to spend close to her by just that much, but they’re on stage and everyone’s watching so he opens his eyes.

Shirayuki stares back at him, eyes so dark he could fall into them all over again. He levers himself back, desperate not to drown.

It’s so quiet he can hear her breathe.

He should say something, but he doesn’t know what. Her mouth’s fallen open, chest rising and falling fast, and he probably looks the same.

“Perfect!” Obi goes stumbling back when Kiki claps her hands. Shirayuki’s still motionless against the wall, but she turns to look.

“That’s exactly the face we want! Do that every single time.” Obi stares at Kiki, who is crueler than he’d ever imagined. Shirayuki stares at Obi. Mitsuhide hides his face. Nobody looks at Zen. “There’s that true love’s kiss I’ve been looking for.”

“I thought you were deconstructing that.” Obi’s voice is weak, even to his own ears. He doesn’t know how he’s even talking.

“I didn’t say who or how, did I? Here’s the rest of the script.” Kiki brandishes a sheaf of papers. “Time to live happily ever after.”

Chapter Text

The man’s name is Obi, and despite remarkable reflexes and the intriguing curve of his lips, he’s really quite rude. “So you’re a Seer, huh?” His tone brings back every insinuation of bad luck and trouble she’s ever been taunted with, and Shirayuki almost takes back the roka jars right then and there. It’s a shame she can’t carry six at once. Instead, she grits her teeth for what comes next. “I’m glad I don’t have a soulmate. Can you imagine being tied down like that?”

“There’s more to the threads than soulmates, you know.” Her voice is so quiet he has to lean in to follow, that cocky face so close to hers. There’s nothing a man with no threads can say to her that she wants to hear, but all the same she feels bad for him. Threads surround everyone, tracing their emotional ties to others. Family, friendship, love, and loyalty web nearly every single person, so unanimously that until Obi appeared in the castle she didn’t think it was possible to be so alone. He’s an island, only a couple of faint and fading connections tracking off into the distance. Her own tie to Zen, soft and clinging as spidersilk, loops around her hand and gives her courage, and she slams open the door to the basement. Without another word, Obi takes his bottles and descends.

***

It’s hard to feel like you can make your own fate when you can see all too well the threads it weaves. The first soulmate bond Shirayuki ever saw belonged to the soldier who brought an end to her peaceful life in Tanbarun. She almost missed his commands, staring at the thread stretching off into the distance as fine as jewelry chain and twined with a dusty sunset glow. But her sight was what the prince demanded, her place at his side to ferret out spies and the infidelities of the court.

Just like her grandparents had warned her. So long as she’d covered her hair, so long as nobody but the closest neighbors and friends knew, she’d been free to do what she wanted. Free to help at her grandparents’ bar, free to study herbs and tend her garden. Free to bury them and start her little apothecary shop.

She thought they were too cautious, that she could wear her red hair openly without consequences.

Months later, short-haired and in Clarines, things are different. Nobody talks about threads and soulmates. Nobody pesters her, begging to have their connections read and explained. Even if they know what red hair means, even if she doesn’t hide it, nobody wants her to even talk about it.

Save for Obi. He asks her questions here and there, but in ways that set her at ease. A couple in the Wistal market can’t take their hands off each other, and he leans in to whisper in her ear, “soulmates, or just lust?”

She giggles and confesses that it’s the latter. It’s far more satisfying to look at Obi now, ringed with his own new web of connections. Tied to Zen, to Mitsuhide and Kiki and even Ryuu and Garrack, he may insist he’s going to leave but he’s spinning threads like he never will. There’s only one missing, and that puzzles her.

Not having a tie to Obi is counter to everything she’s ever understood about the threads. Even if she’s only a job to him, if his camaraderie is faked and his friendship all a front, she knows her own heart. She cares about him, and there’s a thread there somewhere even if she can’t see it.

So she goes looking. Private in her room, she sifts through threads, ghostly to the touch. Zen’s curls around her fingers as she sorts them, missing her friends in Lilias, mourning the last couple of barely-there threads stretching off to Tanbarun, and as she tries to set it aside, she notices something odd. It’s doubled, a second thread hiding in the curls of the first.

“Odd,” she says to herself, trying to pry a finger between the two. They slip away as though oiled. It’s Obi’s, that’s for sure. It exists. That’s all she needed to know. She lets them drop, and Obi’s thread twists back into the shadow of Zen’s.

***

Sleep eludes her, the first few nights in Lilias. She’s tired, she’s excited, even the monotony of reciting grass species alphabetically doesn’t help, and somewhere in the dark of the fourth night she sits up startled. She’d think it a dream, were she closer to the edge of sleep, but her heart insists. Something has changed.

Her fingers shake as she lights her candle, the realization only hitting her just as the wick catches: she could see her fingers. There was light in the dark room even before the spark.

But by candlelight she searches through threads, setting aside the memory. She has to find the cause. It’s not someone dying, she knows; the passing of her grandparents, one after the other, was a physical pain she doesn’t feel now, any more than the normal soreness from being on her feet all day. It’s not a loss she’s feeling, but a change. Maybe even, from the way her breath comes fast and her heart pounds, an addition.

Zen’s thread tangles in her fingers again, and by habit she searches for Obi’s hidden in the coils. Her fingers come up empty, her breath stopping as only a single thread stretches between her grasping hands. But if he isn’t hurt, isn’t gone, then where-

An unfamiliar thread evades the reach of her fingers, slithering away from her grasp. The distance points it straight back with Zen’s and Kiki’s and Mitsuhide’s, so there’s no doubt who it must be. Obi’s thread isn’t hiding anymore, and there’s something about it. She reaches out, squinting when it evades her hand yet again. Much like the man it belongs to, it won’t let her get a close look. At least that’s all it is, the shift of threads. It’s not the first time that’s woken her and won’t be the last.

It’s not until she blows out the candle once more that she understands how wrong she is. From her heart, stretching out to the south where he serves Zen, Obi’s thread glows like a lost sunset. Just what he didn’t want, and with her of all people.

She can’t tell him.

Every night thereafter thoughts of Obi are her companion in the darkness of night. She notices when he moves in the distance, never imagining that he could be coming to her. She watches him patrol when Makiri has him on late shift. She watches his thread stretch far to the north when he rides to Mitsuhide’s rescue, hoping matters aren’t as dire as he fears.

She breathes again when his thread moves south, and this time she can tell he’s coming straight to her. With every mile the tautness of the bond lessens, softening from a compass-straight line to lazy loops and coils. Its dazzling orbit distracts her until she almost misses him, so close, just standing and waiting across the plaza.

Surprised, she slips. She grabs him by the wrists, more relieved than she has words for. His bones shift under her fingers, stiff, and when she lets go she expects him to pull back. It’s a mistake, thinking a bond can substitute for actual feelings, and he doesn’t want this. She’s drawing breath for an apology when he steps into her, his hands wrapping around her ribs to hoist her into the air.

Their bond swirls around them as he spins her. Its light surrounds them, so dense she expects to see it reflected on his face as she finally meets his eyes, but instead there’s just relief so profound it lights him from within instead. “Welcome back,” she gasps, instead of any of the truths she could tell him, and when his wound breaks open the moment is lost.

But she knows now that things have changed. She’s changed. He doesn’t want to be tied down, and she wants nothing more than to keep him by her side.

She holds that thought tightly all the way to Wistal, but when Zen comes charging into the library and up a ladder to her, she can feel a tipping point in her heart. He rests one hand at her waist, the other cups the back of her head, and the lips she used to dream of touch to hers, then press-

And Zen pulls back, his eyes searching her face. “It’s gone, isn’t it?” His voice is just a breath, but it’s enough, and her eyes fly wide with amazement. She nods, and in the motion she sees a new thread at his heart.

“You have a soulmate!” Surprise pushes the words past her lips, and Zen doesn’t cringe. He never has been a fan of taboos, and instead of protesting he just blushes. He turns aside as though to hide his face in shadows, and Shirayuki rests a hand on his cheek. Her heart is so light, she can do nothing but smile. It’s okay. They’re okay.

“You’re not mad?” He presses into her hand, just a little. They’ve always been strength for each other and it’s good to know that, at least, isn’t gone.

“I’d be the last to judge you for your fate.” For all they fought it, for all he’d hoped to break through fate to be with her, this must be something he truly wants for him to accept it so meekly.

He accepts that with a nod, but continues to watch her as though he’s expecting something more. It’s uncomfortably similar to one of his brother’s looks. “You have one too.” It’s not a question, and she can feel the heat of her cheeks confirming her answer without saying a thing. “It’s Obi, isn’t it?”

“How-” Has he hidden this from her all this time?

“You should have seen him when we were in the north. He was like a compass pointing straight to you. I’m amazed they managed to keep him in the infirmary as long as they did, and he still snuck out two days before they were going to let him go.”

“Ah.” That explains too much, and at the same time not as much as she needs.

Gently, Zen unwinds his fingers from her hair, setting her loose against the balcony wall. His color’s still high, his eyes bright. She can’t wait to see who lights him up like this. “Will you forgive me if I’m late to come visit Lilias?”

“If you forgive me when I’m late to dinner.” Zen grins, nods, and slides down the ladder. With a final salute, he turns, the echoes of his bootheels speeding up with every step.

She doesn’t take the ladder as lightly as Zen does, but the glowing thread tugs tighter at her breastbone with every step. It’s not orbiting now, but drawing her onward, pulling her straight to Obi. She understands what Zen meant now, what Obi might have been like all the time he was away from her-

She rounds a corner and Obi’s hands are already out. His eyes are wide with surprise, as if even he doesn’t know why he was ready for her, but his hands close at her wrists, gently, as though she were as delicate as a bird. She pushes through his grip, sliding his hands up to her elbows, her upper arms, until she can wrap both her arms around his chest and hold tight.

“Miss?” His voice vibrates under her cheek. Her heart says to stay, but her reflexes jolt her back. There’s a whisper behind Obi, the sound of a door, but she can’t look past him to see anything else.

“I need to tell you something.” Her hands are still on his sides, muscles tense beneath her fingers. She can’t let go of him, not now, not until she says what needs to be said. He’s never given her reason to think he’ll welcome the news, but he’s never offered her anything but truth. It’s time she does the same. “You told me once you didn’t want a soulmate, that-”

His look of startlement is starting to shade into something more fond, but she can’t let him distract her from what she needs to say. “But-” she starts again, and he lays a single finger against her lips.

“Don’t quote stupid people. It’s beneath you.”

“Obi!” His face may look unaffected, but his body doesn’t lie. “Don’t say things like that.” Another breath without any further objection and she thinks she can do it at last. “I value what my soulmate has to say.”

If he was stiff before, now he’s entirely frozen, but just for a breath before a weight drops from his body. Once more his arms slide around her back, closing carefully as though she were the one who might try to escape. She can feel his breath on her ear before he whispers, “You’re not mad?”

“Never.” Her lips are at his neck, and she breathes in the warmth of his skin.

He pushes back at her shoulder until they can lock eyes, and the hope in his face answers all her remaining doubts. It’s not the face of a man who’s going to run away from her. “Then can-” His voice fails, but his eyes drop to her lips and there’s nothing she wants more. She can feel his breath catch as her eyes drift closed-

Footsteps round the corner and they spring apart. The smile on Zen’s face says he’s not fooled at all. “You said you’d be late to dinner, not miss dinner entirely.” Obi looks panicked, ready to translate out the window and into the woods on mental effort alone. “But it looks like it’s working out.”

Kiki nudges Zen. “Maybe we should leave them some space.” Mitsuhide looks confused, but holds his tongue, and Zen nods.

“Good night, you two. Don’t stay up too late.”

Again they’re alone in the hall, the light of the sun setting over Wistal’s endless gardens painting them through the open window. It catches in Obi’s eyes, gilding the colors as he stares, motionless.

Their thread’s pulled taut now, an unbroken direct line from her heart to his. Shirayuki reaches out, and for once it’s solid under her hand. A feather’s-weight of pull is all it takes to make him step closer. Longing is bare in the eyes that never drop their gaze from hers, and she hopes he can see she feels the same. Another tug, another step, and he’s outpacing the pull to press his heart to hers, to lift her in his arms, to gasp as her fingers sink into his hair, and to press his lips to hers so sweetly.

Chapter Text

The last of the tourists have long since gone home when Shirayuki makes her move. The informational sign in seven languages with a heart scratched into the plastic calls this hole a sewer, but Shirayuki suspects differently. If the mad monk’s map doesn’t lie, it’s an entrance to the deeper levels of Tanbarun’s catacombs.

Home to the Shenezards’ rumored hidden treasure.

The tunnels from the last entry in Mukaze’s diary.

A death trap responsible for uncounted missing explorers.

And hopefully where Shirayuki is going to find what she’s looking for, but unfortunately she can’t check the way because both map and Obi have been kidnapped.

The grate snaps off under a sharp application of her prybar - the Tanbarun Castle caretakers are in the business of keeping tourists from stumbling into a hole while trying to take the same selfie as every other backpacking college student, not blocking the way for a seasoned explorer.

She leans over the entrance, so dark even the light from her headlamp dissipated into nothing before she can see the bottom. It’s a long way down, and they never did manage to interpret the monk’s scratchings beyond the word “traps.”

But that’s nothing new. A mysterious tunnel just wouldn’t feel right without traps. She hooks her descender to the safety railing, switches her headlamp to red so she doesn’t blind herself in the tunnel, and launches herself out into the unknown.

Her feet touch ground in a surprisingly nice chamber. It’s not the deepest tunnel she’s been in, by far. Not the wettest or the quietest or the most ruined. In fact, the stonework looks clean and sharp, the carvings on the walls clear and legible. The water trickling underfoot has left sinuous lines of mildew and sediment on the stones, but there’s no foul smell to it. Really, in the big picture, it’s not that bad at all.

The doors are marked with flowers, just like the ones upstairs that the tourists file through in gawking droves. Obi commented on it two days ago, when they strolled through the open tunnels behind the flag of a tour guide, murmuring to each other about the inaccuracies in the guide’s history and hiding their reconnaissance behind the guise of a honeymoon. It was- fun, being so close, letting him make her laugh and basking in his smiles.

Whoever took him is going to pay.

It’s been easy enough to avoid most of the traps - decades of explorers have left paint, tape, and chalk festooned across the falls and floor. The tricks are a bit harder to see through; the forced perspective hiding the balance beam almost stymies her for a minute, but this isn’t her first rodeo. She’s over the slimy-looking water in short order and a few steps into the next room before she realizes that the echo of her own footsteps is no longer the only sound.

“Come on, my love,” a female voice croons. There’s no being sure which way it’s coming from, but Shirayuki has a guess. She runs forward to listen through the next door, hoping for another clue. There can’t be that many people down here.

Her heart crams into her throat at the sound of the answer. The lower voice doesn’t carry as well, but she knows the tone and inflection perfectly. She’s talking to Obi, this stranger, and he’s answering to “love.” He’s flirting, in fact, with that lilt to his voice that’s negotiated them great prices in the markets of five continents. He’s safe, that should be enough, but now she has to ask herself if she’s misinterpreted everything. He’s under no obligation to her, owes her nothing. If he wants to leave, he can.

An unmarked stone pivots beneath her foot, and she throws herself forward to avoid the blade that comes slicing through the space. It’s set for a tall man, of course, probably would only just have trimmed her hair a bit on top, but she didn’t get this far by making assumptions. She’s cautious, that’s how she survives.

And she hasn’t come this far to lose Obi without at least a word. Guessing from the echoes of the voices, she pulls out a pair of climbing axes. There’s a passage at the top of the wall and she’s not going to give up yet.

Shirayuki opens her eyes to darkness and the far-too-familiar pain of being hung by her wrists. Blood’s drying on her face where the woman hit her- she just had the moment to register green eyes before the impact- and it’s going to be quite a headache when she has time to care, but the rest of her seems to be in working order.

Not that she can see anything, in dark so complete her eyes invent bright patterns from nothing. There’s no knowing what’s beneath her feet, but bottomless pits have a sense about them. Perhaps it’s an echo or maybe a smell, but she’s pretty confident that she doesn’t want to just drop.

“You are a persistent one, aren’t you?” The stranger’s voice is just in front of her, not close by, and it may not be a person she knows, but she’s far too familiar with the tone. She’s gotten in the way of someone’s plans again.

“Although perhaps I shouldn’t complain, since you proved just the inducement I needed.” There’s a sound of shoes against stone, hard-soled - who wears heels in a place like this? - and off to her left, a hesitant slide of metal on metal. It’s not enough information. Her eyes strain, the blackness pressing in, but there’s no way of knowing whether the outlines she sees are the truth or her own imaginings. “You can be the first to congratulate us.”

Arc lights blaze on, the dual assault of light and sound so intense Shirayuki’s flinch sends her rope swinging. As soon as her watering eyes work again, she can confirm she was right - below her feet lies nothing but darkness, the end of the ledge a couple of feet in front of her. There’s a wall right behind her, close enough she could touch it but sheer enough not to offer any helpful footholds. Her rope angles into the room, tied to an iron ring in the floor. It’s a quick-release knot, though, a threat.

The other threat is all the way on the other side of the room, chained to another of the iron rings. Any of her imaginings of Obi leaving her by choice fade away now, as she takes in the handcuffs leading to the heavy links keeping him in place. Even from here she can see the marks on his wrists.

Obi rubs his eyes on his shoulder, and only then does he see Shirayuki. “You said she wouldn’t be harmed!” He pushes forward against his chains, cuffs biting again into his skin. “Umihebi, she doesn’t need to be involved in this.”

“On the contrary, my love, I think she does.” Every step echoes as Umihebi circles the room. She slinks more than walks, every movement choreographed for intimidation. A kusarigama hangs by her side, blade close by her hand and chain chiming with the motion of her thigh. Her eyes are fixed on Obi, the hostage she cares about. She never steps within Obi’s reach, never strays too far from the rope keeping Shirayuki from a fall. “Such a devoted friend who’ll follow you so far deserves a front seat at your wedding, such as it is.”

Shirayuki mouths the word, but it’s hard to get enough air to speak. He’s free to marry whomever he wants, of course. There’s a pain in the center of her chest at the very thought, but it’s not the time to think of that. She doubts this is his choice, anyway. Obi’s hands jerk against the chain once again. “I told you-”

Umihebi takes another step toward the rope, casually resting a hand on it. “You told me many things. Some less than complimentary. Can you blame me for taking steps to ensure your cooperation?” One finger picks at the rope, the hum of its vibration audible in the silence. “When the ink on our marriage contract is dry, she may do as she pleases.”

For the first time since the lights came on, Obi meets Shirayuki’s eyes. There’s a lot of emotions in the look, none of them positive. He looks trapped, like a cat backed into a corner, and she tries to silently convey that they’ve been through worse together. Nobody’s in imminent danger of losing a hand, and there’s very little chance of frostbite. She may not understand everything that’s going on, but she’ll improvise. It’s always worked before.

Pleased that her target seems to be losing his will to fight, Umihebi strolls once more across the room, stopping just out of his reach. With two long fingers she reaches into her bosom, drawing out a key. “Are we clear, your highness?”

Obi just holds up his wrists. Umihebi smiles, fits the key to the lock, and everything happens at once.

A knife sprouts in Umihebi’s hand. Her entire body curls toward it in pain, but where most people would scream, she reaches for her weapon with the one hand she has left. It must have been the only knife Obi had hidden, because he’s bare-handed and wary as he follows her, and it makes him too late as she slices at the rope. It twangs as fibers let go, and Shirayuki kicks off the wall behind her with all the power she can summon. She may complain every time Obi declares it “ab day,” but this time it saves her life.

She catches the ledge with her elbows. One slips in the debris, the floor gritty with sand and flakes of rock, and for a moment she thinks for sure she’s going over, but it catches and holds. He’s going to hold this over her forever, and she doesn’t even mind. Stiff muscles groan as she pulls herself up over her still-bound hands, inch by hard-earned inch.

The only reason she has time is because Obi has Umihebi distracted. The chain of her weapon wrapped around his fist is the closest she’ll get to him now, and there’s murder in her eyes and the deadly sweeps of her blade. She spares a second to rip the knife from her hand, tossing it clattering into a corner, and that’s all the opening Obi needs to rush her, using his fists and his momentum to push her back. She stumbles, one heel twisting on an uneven step, the other catching painfully on Shirayuki’s shoulder and driving her back to her elbows.

But Umihebi can’t recover, flailing with her weapon as she topples over Shirayuki and down into the pit below. The chain slithers behind her, freed from Obi’s grip as he kneels to help Shirayuki back over the ledge. The sound of water comes faster than she expected. Guess it’s not so bottomless after all.

She takes the moment to lie on her back, grit in her hair and rocks in unpleasant places and all. Surely she’s got time for a breath before the place starts collapsing, or whatever’s going to happen next. Her arms tingle with the aftermath of having been wrenched over her head for so long. “Nice shot, with the knife. That’s going to be some infection if she makes it out.”

It’s been far too long since she’s heard his laugh. “She’s stubborn enough to make it. I can’t believe she found me after all this- I’m glad you came after me.” The hitch sounds like he’s edited himself, like there’s something he wanted to say and didn’t. To cover, he picks up his bloody and abused knife and gets to work on the knot of Shirayuki’s rope. She groans her way up to a seat to give him better access.

“You didn’t think I would?”

He bends over his work, so she can’t see his face when at last the rope splits and her hands can finally move. “I’ve given up trying to predict you, miss. I just react.”

“I’m not the only one with surprises,” she answers, and he flinches. “Your highness?”

This time the laugh convinces nobody. “You believed her?”

“She sounded like she knew what she was talking about.” With a bit of wobbling, she manages to get her feet under her. Obi supports one elbow, steadying her as she stands. His gaze never leaves her face.

“She did,” he agrees. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but she can see him resigning himself. The last thing she wants is to be just another woman pushing him into things he doesn’t want. So she lays a tingling finger across his lips.

“I trust you, Obi.”

The only sound is a drip of water, somewhere far in the distance. She pulls back her hand, watching the pale spot on his lip fill back in to match the shade of the rest. “I don’t know why,” he says at last. His hand tightens on her elbow, and she shifts closer. There’s a bruise on his cheek, and it makes her want to throw Umihebi in a hole all over again. Obi swallows, and he’s so close she can hear the motion. “You shouldn’t trust me. Tell me no.”

That makes no sense, when he hasn’t asked a question. She meant what she said, and yet she’s breathless when she goes to answer. “Tell you no what?”

“No or I kiss you.” His voice is low, urgent. “I thought I’d lost any chance-”

All Shirayuki can do is wind her arms around his neck and pull him down to her. All this time she’s been afraid of the same, afraid she’d already lost him, but he’s safe. He’s still hers. He kisses her like she’s air when he’s drowning, like their honeymoon charade were true and they’ve been parted for months.

It’s too much of a kiss for a damp abandoned cave under a tourist-infested ruin. It calls for patience and leisure and clean sheets, all things she vows to make happen as soon as they make it out. His lips chase hers as she tilts her head, keeping her cheek pressed to his while freeing up her mouth to speak. “We should finish up here and get back to the hotel.”

“We passed a statue that looks just like the one in your father’s notebook,” he answers. His voice is steady now, all business, but his fingertips say something else where they grip at her. She doesn’t want him to let go either.

“Maybe we should go look at it before Umihebi comes after us again.” Her voice is still quiet, the drip of water in the distance still the only sound beyond the circle of their breathing, but the clammy air feels a degree colder at the thought. Being a sitting target is bad enough when you do it for a reason. Waiting here when she really wants to be somewhere else-

“When we get out of here, will you-” He trails off, uncertain. But she thinks she gets the picture, sliding a hand down his arm until she can mesh her fingers with his.

“This? Oh yes.” It’s a new beginning and she finds she likes the future opening out in front of them. “You?”

“Always, miss.” One last gentle press against her lips, and he steps back to pull the monk’s map from his pocket. It’s a tricky operation to open it up without letting go of her hand, but he manages.

They may have come to Tanbarun for her father, but she’s already found just what she wanted. “You may not say that after we climb back up through the sewer.”

Chapter Text

Obi’s Kevlar jump jacket is hanging on its hook. On the shelf above sit five empty water bottles in a neat line and a handheld GPS unit with its plug trailing off to the nearest outlet. The cubby below is filled from edge to edge with the bulk of his pack. Everything is just as Mitsuhide demands on inspections.

None of it should be there.

She’s been pretending not to eavesdrop on the radio for days, trying not to stare at the map on the wall in the cafeteria wondering where they all are and what’s happening. The Pincushion fire is a big one, bad enough to call for the full squad of smokejumpers- the whole team was supposed to be gone for days yet, and yet somehow Obi’s here. All she can picture is that he’s hurt. And she didn’t know.

Her feet take her straight toward Ryuu and the clinic, down a hallway lit only by the light from under Zen’s office door and out into the courtyard without thinking. She’s impatient, on the point of running but the clatter of steel on rock hauls her up short. Her quarry is much closer than she expected.

He doesn’t exactly jump up to greet her, but he's too tall to hide in a folding chair, no matter how he slouches. Dark spiky hair no helmet can defeat gives him away, as does the rattle of the loose bricks of the fire pit under his boots. He taught Ryuu to make Smores there before the burn ban went into effect..

“You’re okay!” The words come out a bit loud and maybe she sounds a bit too surprised. He looks okay, at least, so the odds of him having been released and not just having escaped Ryuu through the window are increasing.

“When have you known me not to be?” Obi’s still frowning when he leans down to pick up the tool he dropped. It’s a blade-pick thing on a long handle, she doesn’t know all the names yet, and the sharp part is far too close to his foot for comfort. Yes, his boots have reinforced toes, but it’s still dangerous. “The fire shifted east into easier territory, the hotshots can handle it now. Mitsuhide and most of the others stayed to help them out, but he sent me back with Shuka.”

“Is he-” She looks toward the clinic, ashamed that all this time she hadn’t even noticed. She’s been worried about the wrong firefighter. And here her mouth’s so dry she can’t even finish the perfectly valid question- she’s an embarrassment of a medic. Zen should have left her in the bus station where he found her. It’s a vicious spiral she’s looking down before she’s jarred loose by Obi’s laugh.

“Relax, miss, he just put a foot wrong on a slope and went the fast way down through some brush. His face looks like he lost a fight with a tree and he twisted his knee up pretty good, but Ryuu’s already seen him. The worst part will be when everyone else gets back.” His grin turns feral as he holds up the tool he was sharpening, checking the edge of the blade against the last light of the sun.

It’s only now that Shirayuki notices the firepit isn’t so empty after all. He's set up the fake fire in lieu of a real one, and its LEDs flicker sadly in the hollow. Kiki gave the toy to Mitsuhide as a birthday present at the beginning of the season, and it’s taken on a life of its own. The number of pranks it’s starred in is more than she can count, and she hasn’t even been there for half of them. She’s not sure what it means to him here, but it does make the darkening courtyard just a bit more comforting. The release of her worry and anger hits her all at once and leaves her a little lightheaded, and she sinks into the other lawn chair, which squeaks beneath her weight.

Obi eyes her suspiciously for a second, then starts tying the safety cover back onto the tool he’d been sharpening. There’s just enough light left to watch him work, looking far too clean and relaxed for someone just back from having parachuted into the path of a wildfire and spent three days in the backcountry. There’s no awkwardness in the way he moves, just his climber’s grace and competence. The sunset turns his skin to gold. He catches her looking. “Do I pass inspection?”

Hopefully the LEDs are faint enough to disguise the burning in her cheeks. “Our new base will be ready on Friday.” She’s got everything ready to go in her suitcase already, but she knows Obi too well to think he’ll do the same. He’ll throw everything in a duffel bag Thursday night and call that packing.

“The sooner we go, the sooner we’ll get Yuzuri off our backs.” The last sliver of the sun disappears behind the distant mountains as he salutes with the now-less-intimidating tool.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” She’s been spamming Shirayuki with satellite data layers and soil moisture updates several times a day. They’re being sent north for political reasons; the endangered Olin Maris is finally getting some attention and splitting off a small smokejumper unit for easy access is Izana’s concession. But the details of the transfer don’t make a whole lot of sense. Obi’s qualified, but nobody expected him to be made foreman anytime soon. And four months ago Shirayuki was sleeping rough with nowhere to go, and now she’ll be chief base medic. Zen’s close-lipped about the whole thing. But they’ll do their jobs and keep the Olin Maris safe (on pain of death, says Yuzuri). Just because it’s all suspicious doesn’t mean they can take the responsibility any less seriously.

It gets dark fast once the sun’s behind the mountains, here. Obi leans over the pit and reaches in, and in the second before his hand closes on the light, it illuminates the curves of his arm. She’s seen those muscles haul ridiculous weights of gear, seen Obi hang upside down from impossibly tiny handholds for fun, but somehow here it softens him. By the glow of the evening sky and the flicker of a child’s campfire toy, she can’t look away as the light casts sharp shadows across his cheekbones and lines every eyelash in gold- “I’ve always thought you looked good by firelight.”

Obi blinks at her, and far too slow, she realizes what just came out of her mouth. She just said that. To his face. To a firefighter.

A cicada spins up its song, somewhere out in the dark. Obi blinks, scoops up the fake fire in his hand, and switches off the light. He’s a shadow in a shadow as her eyes struggle to adjust. “Oh, the uniform,” he says at last. “I know, sexy, right? Makes me look very manly. Half the reason I got into the job.”

That’s not what she meant at all. If she had Yuzuri’s gift of speech or Kiki’s confidence, she’d know what to say to him, how to compliment him the right way. It’s not about a uniform or about his job, it’s about him. But she’s only Shirayuki, and she has no skill for this kind of talk. She shuffles her feet, appreciating the darkness that hides her discomfort and ignoring the gentle sounds of Obi moving around. He’s probably going inside.

The yard-light clicks on with an electrical snap, and Obi’s not by the door, he’s right by her side. It’s far too close. “I’ve always thought so,” she adds, startled, and his eyes as he stares down at her match her expression. This close she can see the specks of ash-burns on his face and smell his soap, and his throat moves as he swallows.

She should- she should go make sure Ryuu’s remembered to eat dinner. It’s late. The first step back is easy, but she slows as she reaches the door and looks back. He’s still watching her go. “Good night,” she adds. “I’m glad you’re coming with me. You probably think I don’t notice how much you help me, but I don’t know where I’d be without you. I’m looking forward to going north, because you’ll be there.” And she punctuates it with the slam of the screen door, putting as much hallway between them as she can before he can answer.

Chapter Text

“Just like old times, huh?” Obi sits on Shirayuki’s examining table, tense as a harp string in his gray uniform. It shouldn’t be so odd to see him in it, he always wore the same thing anyway, but it signals a role he would have spurned years ago.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Shirayuki starts measuring out herbs, already far too familiar with Obi’s weight and tolerances to have to ask a single question. She knows better than to expect straight answers, anyway. “You’re not bleeding, nobody’s been drugged, and Zen isn’t glaring in the doorway.”

She doesn’t miss that he checks anyway, the relief when the hallway is clear of the Heir or any of his attendants a feathery tickle in her head. Empathy is inexact on the best of days, but with Obi she needs all the clues she can get. “It’s really not that big a deal, I don’t know why I’m here anyway.”

That’s a lie she doesn’t need a single drop of Empathy to detect. “Fortunately, I do. You overstrained your Gift and now you are my responsibility until I clear you to go back.” She’s no MindHealer, to soothe the rents he refuses to admit hurt him still. All she can do is make him medicine, just like any other time. Like he was any other patient.

Showing frustration to a patient is not conducive to healing. She takes refuge in assembling the familiar recipe, the concoction for soothing an overstressed Gift one of the first she learned as an apprentice. They go through it as fast as tea leaves- if it’s not Herald-trainees overdoing it, it’s the full Heralds, who should know better.

Obi could qualify in either category, Chosen so late as to be caught somewhere between trainee and adult, but he’s never accepted limitations on his capabilities before. The training of his Gift is no different. “You can’t just work ForeSight like a muscle, Obi.”

His denial is as clear as a word as he teases the buttons of his coat open, letting it hang loose over his black undershirt, but the feeling is wrapped around with a warmth she doesn’t expect, fondness and trust that fills her chest like a warm drink on an icy day. It’s all out of proportion, and she feels her own cheeks warming in response. She turns away to give the medicine one more stir and pour it through the strainer. "Persia is probably back in Companion's Field complaining about how stubborn her Chosen can be."

"Hah, there's not a single Companion without worse stories than this. It comes with the job. Ask anyone." Still a thread of embarrassment joins the tapestry and Shirayuki smiles into her workbench where he can't see. The last of the infusion drips through the filter, and when she turns back to hand him the mug, he’s just watching her work. Only the slight squint to his eyes betrays the headache he’s trying to cover up.

“This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” It’s barely a question, but he stares down into the cup as though the contents will suddenly change to something more palatable. As many times as the Heralds have tried to get them to change the base from water infusion to alcohol tincture, the Healers know better.

“The taste isn’t great.” Ryuu’s working on it when he has free time. “But it will help. You’ll be fuzzy for an hour or two, but that will clear and it won’t hurt so much.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

She sniffs.

“Much.”

She ignores the lie this time too and addresses the actual issue. “I’ll stay here with you the whole time, and whatever it’s doing, this medicine will ensure that it does it less.”

She will win this argument, no matter how long he stalls. She always does. He knows it, too; he tips up the mug and downs it. She watches his throat work; it’s unlikely he’d try any of his tricks on her again, but his aversion to medicine could outweigh his good judgment. “Gets me out of history class, so I can live with it.” He wipes the corner of his mouth with the cuff of his sleeve, then hands back the cup. “Class, at my age.”

“Well, you speak for more than just yourself, now. Got to have all the background.” All the years he stood as one of Zen’s retinue, blending into the shadows and keeping his Gift to himself- it’s not her place to judge the Companions, whatever process they use to pick their Chosen, but if anyone asks her, they were sleeping on the job waiting so long to accept him.

He lies back on the bed, at last, but still doesn’t close his eyes. Shirayuki presses her thumb to the furrow in his forehead until he relaxes, and he answers her satisfied smile with a self-deprecating one of his own.

That’s as close to a promise not to escape as she’s going to get out of him. She settles at the desk, pulling out the old journal she's been translating for Ryuu, but Obi’s eyes never leave her. It’s a little bit distracting. There can’t be anything that fascinating about watching her write or occasionally go flipping through a herbary for common names, but the sense she’s gathering from him is utterly content. He radiates like a little sun on the back of her neck, harder to ignore with every minute. It’s not like anything she’s ever felt before, a sensation she could burrow into like the best of hugs.

Obi hugged her once, when she left for the Collegium, before Persia appeared and they found out how quickly his own path would follow. He was hesitant, awkward, but once his arms wrapped around her his touch was so tender-

A shock jolts her loose from the memory, and the journal lands on the ground with a smack. She’s been utterly distracted, drifting contentedly in her Empathy, but now her heart is pounding like a Pelagir beast has come bursting through the window. She turns at Obi’s gasp, and he’s already up on one elbow, trying to get to his feet. “Not yet!” She runs to his side, pressing him back with a hand on his chest just over the scar that no Healing will fix. His face is paler than she’s ever seen it, his eyes haunted.

“I have to go to Zen,” he gasps and overpowers her resistance, pushing his way upright.

“You need rest- you have class!”

“No! It can’t wait.” The furrow between his eyebrows is back, doubled, as the disorientation of ForeSight fades into desperation. “Mitsuhide’s been arrested for murder.”

Chapter Text

There are far more comfortable places Shirayuki could spend her afternoon than a folding chair in the equipment hangar. Her office has air conditioning, for one thing. There are decently comfortable chairs. But most importantly, her office is entirely free of arguing Wisterias.

“The whole thing is ridiculous,” Zen grumps. His voice is quiet, because everyone knows the steel ceiling echoes like nobody’s business, but his brother doesn’t bother to moderate his voice.

“You’re just jealous that they aren’t interested in administrators.” Izana grins, and Shirayuki can’t help but think whoever made that decision must have not seen the Wisterias in person.

“That’s not-” Zen breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, audibly deciding to take the high road. “It’s for a good cause, at least.” At the other side of the room a bird shrieks, which sets off one of the dogs.

“That sounds like our cue to go,” Izana answers, unflappable as always. “Please make sure nothing gets out of hand.” He turns, and Zen sighs and follows him.

That leaves Shirayuki alone with a volunteer from the Humane Society, a menagerie of the most photogenic animals available for adoption that they could round up, one very pushy photographer, and at least one shirtless firefighter. “For a good cause,” she reminds herself and walks over to see what she can do to help.

Hisame Rougis, at least, is having a good time. “No, Lulu, I need that,” he coos, gently readjusting the python to free up his hand. Lulu bunches up for a moment, then loops around his bicep affectionately.

“You sure you aren’t looking for a pet, sir?” The Humane Society volunteer has stars in her eyes. Whether it’s at Hisame’s chest, which is, admittedly, nice, or at the thought of getting Lulu a new home, Shirayuki can’t tell.

“What would you say to that, Kiki?” Hisame cranes back over his shoulder, the photographer’s camera clicks like firecrackers, and Shirayuki realizes she’s not the only spectator here.

“No,” Kiki answers and unfolds from her chair. She’s not in her flight suit today, but she still draws eyes in sweats. Her T-shirt is loose, tied off at the waist. “No snakes.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” Hisame purrs.

“You wish, Rougis,” Kiki tosses back. It sounds like a denial, and yet she’s smiling. There’s something going on with the two of them. Shirayuki had thought, since she arrived, that Kiki and Mitsuhide either were dating or were on the way to something, but for the last few weeks-

They’re not talking, and suddenly Kiki’s got the time of day for Hisame. He’s friendly enough, but there’s something just a bit off about him. He’ll go over great in the charity calendar, though, if the photographer catches his smolder through his slightly-too-long hair. “This way,” the photographer reminds him, and Kiki passes beyond his directed gaze.

She stops by Shirayuki. “Did you see yesterday’s photos?” Her outstretched phone shows Mitsuhide grinning, a friendly husky dog’s tongue wrapping around his cheek. “It took them almost an hour to get the picture they were happy with.”

“How did you get a copy? I thought we weren’t going to see anything until the calendar?”

Kiki’s enigmatic smile is all the answer she gives. “You sure you don’t need some help keeping order in here? I’m sure the equipment audit can wait.”

In the distance, Hisame looks just as sad to say goodbye to Lulu as she is reluctant to let go of him. “I doubt Izana would agree.”

Kiki laughs, short but genuine. “You keep a close watch, then, and tell me all about it later.”

It doesn’t seem like there will be much to tell her, really. Everything’s much quieter with the Wisterias and Hisame gone; eventually the dogs back in the storage room stop barking, the photographer is engrossed in her laptop, and the volunteer plops into the folding chair with a relieved sigh. “Oh man, this is going to be the hottest calendar ever. I can’t wait to see it.”

Shirayuki would have to live under a rock to not have heard that people find firemen sexy, but these are all people she knows, people whose tonsils she’s inspected. Or worse. “You think so?”

“Oh yeah! This calendar’s going to sell so well, you’d better get your order in quick.”

She hadn’t really planned on it. It seems kind of unprofessional to have pictures of half-naked men hanging up in her office, even if it weren’t extra weird due to said men being her patients. And something about hanging it up at home feels even worse.

“Send in mister October,” calls the photographer, saving her from having to answer, but the volunteer is still trying to disentangle herself from the folding chair when Obi strolls in on his own. The smile on his face may be charming, but his shoulders are tense. The photographer takes a thorough survey, from head to toe. “Inky and Sue, I think,” she tosses off to the volunteer, who nods and heads back into the storage room.

“They’re not dogs, right?” Obi clutches at his T-shirt. He jumps out of planes and walks into fires for a living. He killed a rattlesnake that got into the building, once. But the sigh of relief he breathes when the volunteer returns carrying two tiny kittens is audible all the way across the room. He reaches out his gloved hands, and the photographer clicks her tongue. His hands freeze outstretched. “Oh.”

His eyes flick to Shirayuki - she may be across the room, but she can’t miss it. Still watching her, he reaches the back of his neck and pulls off his T-shirt. Cloth slides over muscles, then over scars, and it’s all too obvious when the photographer sees it. She stops, she stares, and Obi’s hand comes up to grasp at his shoulder.

It's only because she's watching so slowly that Shirayuki sees blood smear under his finger. "You're hurt!"

That, at least, interrupts the photographer's stare. Obi stares too, for a moment before he too notices the blood. "Just a scratch," he says.

"Let me clean it up for you," she insists, and drags him out into the hallway.

"It's really nothing." He doesn't wave her hands away, at least, as she pulls an alcohol wipe from her pocket and tears it open. "They want wilderness firefighters, they have to expect some of us are going to show off more than just a tan. Nobody trusts a firefighter without a few marks on him." It falls from his lips too easily, like it's something he's been telling himself, and his shoulders curl inward. Skin pulls and folds at the white scar across his chest.

“Maybe the photographer will work with you to find a pose you’re comfortable with.” He stares at her like she’s speaking a foreign language. She doesn’t want to say it outright, but she’s no Izana to get her ideas across with less than half the words it should take. “Something that doesn’t show anything you don’t want to show?”

She can’t look at his face anymore, so she busies herself with the scratch. It really was a minor as he said, and it’s very clean now. His hand comes up to capture hers, gently lifting it off his shoulder. “You mean the chick magnet here, I take it.” His other hand taps the scar.

It’s hard to figure how he means that, whether it’s serious or yet another self-deprecating joke. There’s nothing to do but insist. “I meant anything-”

“It’s all right. This is from a long time ago.” She hasn’t seen this gentle smile on him before. His fingers cradle her wrist like it’s a bird, or something he’ll protect until it’s ready to take flight once more- hopefully he can’t feel her pulse speeding as the moment stretches. “If you’d been there, there probably wouldn’t even have been a scar.”

The equipment hangar door screeches and the volunteer leans out, looking frazzled. She’s still clutching the kittens, which are yowling angrily. “Are you almost ready?”

“Showtime,” says Obi. Gently, he frees Shirayuki’s hand, then rocks to a stand like he’s ready to run. “I’m ready for my close-up,” he calls out to the photographer as he swans back into the room.

Shirayuki watches him go, cupping her hand to her chest.

***

There’s a suspiciously large envelope rolled up in Shirayuki’s office mail. She has a pretty good suspicion of what it must be, but when she slits open the flap she still forces herself to read the letter first. “Thank you for your tax-deductible contribution to the Humane Society . . .” it begins, and something flips in the vicinity of her stomach. It’s here.

The calendar is glossy and printed on good paper- she tries to smooth it flat, where it had been rolled up in her mailbox, but it springs back to a curve. Time and gravity will fix that, once she hangs it up.

If she hangs it up.

Mitsuhide got the January spot, laughing as a very large dog stretches to kiss him. Hisame, in June, looks mysterious and alluring with Lulu staring directly at the camera. Shikito, in August, bends down to fill a water bowl for a beagle puppy.

She hesitates over September. Not that she minds Shuka wielding a hammer assembling some kind of enclosure as two adorable little brown rabbits watch, but she isn’t quite sure she’s ready to turn the page.

“The sexiest yet,” the Humane Society volunteer had whispered in her ear, all but vibrating as they watched Obi pose for the photographer.

But if she turns the page, she’s going to have to have something to say when he asks what she thinks. She’ll have to have an opinion. She’s going to have to tell him he’s sexy.

She’s being silly. Reckless, she flips the page, and there’s Obi’s profile- the photo is from his back, every muscle lit in full definition as he holds a bicep curl pose. On his left arm two tiny black kittens perch, one trying to climb his forearm and the other screaming in his face, and his lip curls in a way she knows he was just about to laugh. It’s so him, and the cats are so cute, and at the same time she can’t stop staring at the details. The line where the tan on his neck ends. The way the light casts shadows from his shoulder blades and every knob of his spine. The hint of another scar just at the edge of the photo, one she hasn’t noticed in person before-

“Oh, they’re here?” Kiki strides into the office without knocking, and Shirayuki slams shut the calendar. Kiki sets Shirayuki’s coffee on the desk, sips her own, thankfully does not say a word about Shirayuki’s crimson blush, and leans over to get a look at the Dalmatian on the cover.

“It just arrived in the mail today. Did you order one?” She picks up her coffee, suppressing the urge to hide it under the desk.

“Please.” Kiki flips open the cover, directly to January. “I bought ten.”

Chapter Text

Fluorescent light fixtures screech overhead, the sound all out of proportion to the trickle of watery green light casting shimmering shadows across the room. The map may call this an active military property, but Shirayuki would bet her badge that nobody’s used this building in twenty years. The breeze through the open window is the only respite from the smell of oil and dust.

There is no respite, unfortunately, from Brecker.

She’s seen his type all too many times. Desperate to claim any accomplishment they can claw their greasy fingerprints onto, while just as desperate to blame everyone and anyone else for their failures. They circle power like fish who pray that if they keep swimming like sharks, someday they won’t be the last arrival at the feeding frenzy.

The corner of her mouth pulls up in an amused tick. She doesn’t regret, anymore, being pulled off protection duty so early. Warehouse duty may be a terminal position, but it suits her ever so much better.

Brecker doesn’t take well to her inattention. He leans forward, almost vibrating, and the bell clutched tight in his hand clinks erratically. It shouldn’t be able to ring, not the way he’s holding it, but Shirayuki can feel the sound in her bones. “Mr. Brecker, if you will just hand me the bell, we can work this all out-”

“Never!” His face is red now, his eyes wild. Of course, he’s holding an Artifact in his bare hand, and one Zen couldn’t figure out. Something about big birds, and it’s far too old to mean Sesame Street. “She’s been a thorn in my side for long enough! I’ll destroy this before I ever let you give it back to her!”

He cocks back his arm, too fast and too smooth for her to grab for it - who’d have thought someone so selfish once loved baseball, she thinks, despairing as the bell rolls off his fingers. It chimes gleefully as it tumbles on its way-

And with a clear, glassy tink, clips the windowframe and drops out of sight.

Shirayuki sighs. Some days she could swear these older artifacts know what’s going on. And they never, never want to be brought in.

It’s a good thing she’s just as stubborn. Brecker tries to grab her arm, but no Ivy-League-knockoff corporate yes-man is going to stop a sufficiently determined Secret Service Agent. She may not have Obi’s strength or his uncanny range of motion, but there’s no need for that here. Brecker thumps to the ground, she plants her foot on the windowsill, and only as she passes the point of no return does she notice the odd shadow on the horizon. There’s no time to see it clearly.

She does hear Obi’s appalled “What?” from somewhere off to her left just before the pond’s surface hits her like a whip.

The water isn’t cold.

It drives the air from her lungs just as easily as if it were, but bubbles point the way to the surface. Her foot catches on something as she kicks, and her arm is stinging in a way she doesn’t much like, but she breaks back out into the air just in time to see Obi churning his way to her. He’s swimming like someone trying to keep as much of his body out of the water as possible.

A shadow passes over the sun. Zen didn’t have much to say about what this artifact did, just that it was old and Persian. Kihal had shown her the three golden feathers etched into the stone. Something’s tickling the edge of her memory about Persian birds, and she doesn’t know what, but she really doesn’t like the feeling.

“The stairs are slower, but there’s less change of tetanus.” Obi always has a quip, but his eyes hold a concern for her he’ll never say out loud.

“Brecker threw the bell out the window-” Together they look down into the depths of the pond- not so deep, but their treading water is already starting to kick up silt. Or something worse.

“We’d better find it quick, I don’t like the feel of this at all.” He sighs. “Bottoms up, then.”

Together, they dive.

She should have known the military would use a pond this convenient for a dumping ground. There are broken crates, parts of vehicles, and unidentifiable chunks of metallic scrap everywhere down here. She bumps one, and a cloud of rust spreads from the surface in a gentle bloom. She’s never going to hear the end of this from Ryuu.

Shirayuki’s just reaching the bottom when the light disappears again. It only lasts a couple of heartbeats, quick enough that she gets another eyeful of sun when she goes looking for the cause, but the surface of the water still shimmers oddly. But there’s no time for distractions. She follows the wall, tries to extrapolate where the window was and where Brecker was standing-

There- it shines, oddly blurred, caught on a jagged edge of metal. Her lungs burn, bubbles escape from her lips, but she grabs the bell and kicks off the ground. Above her the surface shakes again, like she’s swimming under the downwash of a helicopter.

Obi’s catching his breath when she arrives. The bell vibrates against her palm, as though it’s ringing even underwater. “I’ve got it,” she gasps. The shore is so far, and that’s even assuming Obi didn’t leave the canister of neutralizer with Kihal-

He grabs her shoulder. “Thankfully, I’m prepared.” He pulls a purple metallized bag out of his shirt- she’s never seen one used in the water before, but there’s a beating in the air like giant wings and taking the time to play it safe is probably not the most prudent course of action. He pries open the bag, and she tips the bell in.

Energy erupt from the bag - no little sparkler, this is a full-on firework - and she flinches halfway back into the water. She doesn’t know how Obi keeps his hand on it, but he does, and at last the air is silent.

It still takes too long to get to shore. Obi’s swimming with one hand, and there’s at least two full submerged vehicles to maneuver around, and by the time they slog their way out of the pond, Shikito’s there to offer each of them a hand up.

“You all do dive training in there?” Obi hands the bag to Shirayuki, wringing water out of his clothes. “Aw man, I got some on my shirt.”

Shirayuki turns, concerned, and his hands are hovering just over a purple streak down the front of his shirt. “They said no skin contact, you probably sh-” He undoes the last of the buttons, stripping it off and wadding it into a ball with the neutralizer on the inside. The sun, now that it’s done being blocked by giant mythical birds, shines on his skin, and while she knows that he’s coated with the same layer of nastiness she can feel on her own, she can’t look away.

She’s known Obi for long enough to know how strong and agile he is. He’s pinned her to the mat every time he’s successfully wheedled her into martial arts practice. She’s disinfected quite a few parts of him and sewn him up more than once. So it mystifies her how she’s never once noticed the muscle definition he has. Like better than the beefcake pictures Yuzuri sends her for feedback - she usually just says they look dehydrated, because they do, and maybe they should find Obi a bottle of water or, if they can find one, a Gatorade-

“Are you all right?” She almost drops the neutralizer bag with the bell, but Obi’s hand is cool against her forehead. “You’re spacing out. That’s not like you.”

“I’m fine,” she tries to say, but Obi’s already sending Shikito off for a first-aid kit.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, guiding her to a seat on what she thought was a rock, but is probably another hunk of military junk. “Who knows what was in there, we need to get this cleaned out.”

She follows his gaze down, and in fact there is a significant amount of skin missing on her arm. It looks like she lost a fight with a comb. A big one. “Huh,” she says, and Obi frowns harder.

“Stay right here,” he says, lifting the neutralizer bag from her hand. That suits her fine, she can sit and dry out as she watches the way his back flexes as he climbs the slope-

Or she can watch the sunlight sparkling on the water and not look at her partner like that. It’s a very scenic pond if you don’t know it’s full of hazards.

He’s back with the first-aid kit and his suit coat quicker than she would have expected. He drops the coat next to her and starts digging through medical supplies. “The bell is in the car and Shikito’s standing guard,” he says, tearing open the wrapping for a gauze pad. “I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but this is going to sting.”

“Is my job in danger?” He’s doing a very efficient job of cleaning the wound, but it does, in fact, sting.

“No, no, next time we’ll go back to me getting injured and you fixing me up. Everybody’s happier that way.” He frowns at the taped-on bandage. It’s not as pretty as she would have done, but it’s secure. “Don’t jump out of buildings like that. I think this will hold until Ryuu gets his hands on you.”

Obi’s hands are on her. She needs something to do, so she scoops up his coat and offers it to him. Her hand shakes. “No thanks,” he answers, but he takes it from her just to turn it around and drape it around her shoulders. “I think you need it more.”

Cupping her elbow, he helps her up and supports her up the slope to the car. There, he pulls out the neutralizer canister and together they transfer the bell from the bag to the more secure receptacle. Shirayuki’s tired, but she feels better as she closes the final latch. “That’s that,” she says.

Obi laughs. “Until we get back to town,” he adds. “I’m sure Kihal’s going to want to know what happened to her priceless family heirloom.”

“The Roc, a giant bird known for picking up elephants and dropping them to feed on the pieces. Or the Rukh, the same giant bird who rescued shipwrecked sailors in the Arabian Nights. It could have been either - it’s a good thing you got the bell bagged before you had to find out.” Shirayuki and Obi share a glance. They might not have had it proven, but they know. “However,” Zen continues. He can be intense at the best of times, but he practically crackles with displeasure now. “I did not appreciate you taking off like that. I had to make up a story to tell Kihal.”

Obi props his feet up on an old-time radio - Shirayuki hopes it’s the useful kind of Zen’s office junk and not the Artifact kind of Zen’s office junk - and Zen knocks them back down.

“Did you tell her we had another urgent case?” Shirayuki will have to call and make her own apologies.

“Um, no. That would have been a good one. But so far as she knows, you eloped to Colombia.”

“Eloped?” Shirayuki would hide under the desk, but Ryuu’s already sleeping down there.

“Colombia?” Obi’s laughing.

“Listen, there’s a reason you’re the field agents. Next time you two stick around and do the lying part and we won’t have this kind of problem!” Obi still looks like he’s about to explode, despite Zen’s glare, but Zen waves it off. “Okay, then. Moving on.”He rolls down a screen covered with sketches and pictures of what looks like a glowing seed. “I’ve got a ping on another artifact.”