#i think haki would find obi hilarious

[redmemoirs]

gee zen, sensei lets you have TWO doting siblings?

[zacekova]

Akagami no Shirayukihime Dragon Companion AU compilation

Okay, guys. This is getting really long and I don’t regret a thing. 

This is a collection of a bunch of ideas and images from a thread on the Obiyuki discord that we’ve tossed around about an ANS AU where dragons exist. I’ve had some thoughts since then and have added my ideas to the list, but there are still a lot of blank spaces and room for expansion. 

I’m listing any ANS writers/artists who have said they want to create content for any of these. PLEASE feel free to send me pictures, ideas, suggestions, alterations, questions, etc. Literally anything you can think of, anonymously or otherwise. I’ll post the asks and let it go a few rounds in the ANS fandom to see what ideas most of us seem to like best and add them to this master post. 

I hope this monstrous thing serves as inspiration for some of you and is good, wholesome fun for the rest of us. 

Dragons are immortal creatures that have existed since the dawn of time and come in many shapes and sizes. Most are hundreds to thousands of years old and females and babies are rare. They choose To live among humans as lifelong companions and friends, finding a new companion after the previous has died. 

(Note: Dragon’s age the equivalent of about 1 year to every 7 that passes through infancy to adulthood. Once they reach maturity - around 200 years of age - they cease maturing and can live indefinitely, so far as we are aware. Some species never stop growing, some do.) 

Shirayuki’s 

Color: Pink 

Size: Pocket (5-10 inches long)

Age: 250

Personality: Angry. Snaps and hisses at people, particularly Raj and his dragon or anyone who tries to touch her hair. Hides out in Shirayuki’s pockets and hoods - and under her hair, when it was long. 

History: Gets into fights frequently despite his small size, so his face is rather smashed and mangled. Shirayuki still thinks he’s lovely. 

Hoard: Insults and colorful stones 

Writers/Artists: 

Zen’s 

Color: White 

Size: 3 feet tall 

Age: 800 years 

Personality: Dopey and friendly. Drools a lot. Excitable. Runs around the castle knocking things over and making a nuisance of himself. Taught Zen how to climb the castle walls. Probably snores. And chases his tail, among other things. 

History: 

Hoard: Feathers and leaves 

Writers/Artists: 

Obi’s 

Color: Yellow 

Size: Pocket (12-15 inches long). No wings. 

Age: 537

Personality: Flirtatious and clever but also kind of grumpy. Holds grudges over little things and likes to tease. Once hid inside Obi’s pants while Obi was sleeping because she was cold but Obi’s reaction in the morning was so hilarious she does it just to mess with him now. 

History: A huge influence on the development of Obi’s personality - he used to be sullen and quiet but she was so annoying he had to learn to retaliate. 

Hoard: Scarves (they’re warm.) 

Writers/Artists: 

Ryuu’s 

(After growth spurt)

Color: Green, furred. 

Size: Still growing. 

Age: 84 (developmentally the same age as Ryuu) 

Personality: Venomous. 

History: 

Hoard: 

Writers/Artists: 

Mitsuhide’s 

Color: Dark blue 

Size: 6 feet tall 

Age: 871

Personality: Lazy. Very lazy. Sleeps everywhere on anything all the time. Is very strong and helpful but you have to get him up first. Rests his head on Mitsuhide’s shoulder when he’s awake and gives headbutts as a sign of his affection. 

History: 

Hoard: Sunny, cozy alcoves and rocks 

Writers/Artists: 

Kiki’s

Color: Iridescent purple and blue 

Size: 10 feet tall 

Age: 2,332

Personality: Regal, pompous, vain. A beautiful dragon and he knows it but secretly angry about his “smaller” size. Thinks dragons like Izana’s are “excessively large,” and is quite vocal about it. Likes Kiki because she is strong and beautiful and doesn’t take crap from anyone but that’s where their similarities end. 

History: 

Hoard: Reflective surfaces (constantly hounding Kiki to pull out her sword so he can make sure there’s nothing stuck in his teeth).

Writers/Artists:  

Izana’s 

Color: White 

Size: 30 feet tall 

Age: Unknown 

Personality: Ancient and wise, but secretive. Arrogant, disdainful, cold. Has little tolerance for younger dragons. Doesn’t care for weak and stupid people, either, but he finds them amusing all the same. Izana ends up becoming a rare exception; the young King is clever enough to appeal to this dragon’s interests and he ends up begrudgingly fond and protective of Izana after a few years. 

History: 

Hoard: Clarines kingdom (is the companion of the king or the king’s heir exclusively). 

Writers/Artists: 

Zakura’s 

Color: Black 

Size: 12 feet tall 

Age: 942 

Personality:

History: 

Hoard:

Writers/Artists: 

Haruka’s 

Color: Gold 

Size: 8 feet tall 

Age: 2,800 

Personality: Prideful and inquisitive. Spends a lot of his time reading or traveling. 

History:  Is a companion to Haruka’s family more than Lord Haruka himself, and is the biggest reasons for their wealth and standing in Clarines. 

Hoard: Books and maps. 

Writers/Artists: 

Garrack’s 

Color: Red  Size: Age: Personality: History: Hoard: Writers/Arists:

Yuzuri’s 

Color: Red and orange 

Size: 20 feet tall 

Age: 400 

Personality: Suspicious, protective. Hot tempered and can be violent and malicious if her companion or friends are in danger. 

History: 

Hoard:

Writers/Artists: 

Suzu’s 

Color: Yellow 

Size: 2 feet long 

Age: 250 

Personality: Relaxed and lazy but very curious. Likes to lay on Suzu’s head or shoulder and read along with him while Suzu researches and asks a lot of questions until falling asleep again. Drives Yuzuri’s dragon crazy by napping on her neck just high enough that she can’t reach to nip his tail. 

History: 

Hoard: Pencils and pin cushions (the latter makes excellent pillows) 

Writers/Artists: 

Shidan’s 

Color: Brown 

Size: 8 inches 

Age: 1,863 

Personality: Dead without the canonverse’s version of coffee. Cranky and prickly and critical but secretly fond of almost everyone. 

History: 

Hoard: Coffee. All the coffee. 

Writers/Artists: 

Lata’s 

Color: Black. 

Size: 3 inches 

Age: 5 

Personality: Cheerful and curious and playful. Still just a baby. 

History: Lata had never had a dragon companion before. He happened to be out in a cave hunting for stones when he stumbled across a hatching dragon. She took a liking to him despite his panicked protests that he has no idea how to take care of a baby. He does a great job not matter how much he complains and she absolutely adores him. 

Hoard: Fruits and berries. She hasn’t figured out yet why they keep disappearing (Lata eats them before they go bad). 

Writers/Artists: 

Kirito’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Haki’s 

Color: White 

Size: 10 feet tall 

Age: 1,958

Personality: Wise and clever. Offers quiet council and advice but only when the person would not be better served by figuring it out themselves. 

History: 

Hoard: 

Writers/Artists: 

Makiri’s 

Color: Grey 

Size:15 feet tall 

Age: Unkown. 

Personality:

History: 

Hoard:

Writers/Arists: 

Raj’s 

Color: Reddish pink 

Size: 6 inches 

Age: 702 

Personality: 

History:

Hoard: Coins 

Writers/Arists:

Rona’s 

Color: 

Size: 

Age: 

Personality: 

History:

Hoard: 

Writers/Arists:

Eugena’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Sakaki’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Mihaya’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Mukaze’s

Color: Brown and Green 

Size: Unknown 

Age:Unknown 

Personality: Slow and steady as a mountain. Old and wise and infinitely kind. Adopts pretty much everyone on the mountain as his children. Fearsome when angered. 

History:

Hoard: People 

Writers/Arists: superhappybubbles 

Itoya’s

Color: Grey 

Size: 12 feet tall

Age: 1,442

Personality: Quiet and serious. Contemplative. Likes to sit outside and watch nature, watch the sun and moon and stars cross the sky, the water flow in the river, the birds and creatures go about their days. Patient and stubborn as stone. 

History: 

Hoard: 

Writers/Arists: 

Kazuki’s 1st 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History: Umihebi killed Kazuki’s first dragon, something considered impossible before. Kazuki rarely talks about it. Umihebi became more power hungry, greedy, and arrogant than ever before. 

Hoard:

Writers/Arists: superhappybubbles 

Kazuki’s 2nd 

Color: Brownish green. 

Size: 24 inches long 

Age: 23 

Personality: Cheerful. Kinda dopey. Very clumsy. Basically a fearless but accident-prone little kid who wind Kazuki over by being ridiculously chirpy and lighthearted and giving Kazuki’s concerned and protective spirit one too many heart attacks by walking obliviously into danger. 

History:

Hoard: Flowers and acorns 

Writers/Arists: superhappybubbles 

Umihebi’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Kihal’s

Color: Blue and green, exotic in appearance. 

Size: 2 feet long

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard: Snail shells 

Writers/Arists:

Hisame’s 

Color: Dark grey 

Size: 15 feet tall 

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Touka’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Tsuruba and Tariga’s 

Color: Dark grey 

Size: 10 feet tall 

Age: 470 

Personality: 

History: Touka chained him down as a punishment to the twins once after they had made a mistake. The first thing they do after Touka dies is run back to release him. 

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Shuuka’s 

Color: Black 

Size: 15 inches 

Age: 72 

Personality: Rambunctious and curious. Explores in the walls and crevices of the fort and eats the mice and rats. Hangs upside-down from the rafters to sleep. Likes to roll around and bat at people’s feet while they’re trying to walk. Basically a cat, but cuter. 

History:

Hoard: Arrowheads. Two (2) mice or one (1) rat can be traded for one intact arrowhead, should the need arise. 

Writers/Arists:

Shiira’s 

Color: Orange 

Size: 4 inches 

Age: 608

Personality: A total moron. Look at that face, c’mon. He likes to climb trees and eat fruit. He screeches extremely loud with a raspy, grating tone to get Shiira’s attention, which he absolutely loathes, and gnaws on literally everything. And then just when Shiira is ready to wring his neck, he falls asleep on Shiira’s lap curled up in a tiny ball and snuffling/nuzzling at Shiira’s belly. 

History:

Hoard: He seems to think every chair and bed in existence belongs to him. You got up to go get a drink? Too bad, he stole it. You want to go to sleep? Well, looks like he’s camped out right in the center and how could you possibly stand to wake something that adorable? 

Writers/Arists:

Kai’s 

Color: Unknown 

Size: Unknown 

Age: N/A 

Personality: Unknown 

History: Someone gave him the egg as a gift. My shipping heart wants to say Shiira, but I don’t think a lowly gate guard could afford a dragon egg. 

Hoard: Unknown 

Writers/Arists:

Haruto’s 

Color: Purplish blue 

Size: 5 feet tall 

Age: 924

Personality: Happy and sweet. Likes to lick Haruto’s hand and nuzzle her side. Curls around whatever chair she sits in. 

History:

Hoard: Pearls 

Writers/Arists:

Yatsufusa’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Higata’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Earl Seiran’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Torou’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

Atri’s 

Color:

Size:

Age:

Personality:

History:

Hoard:

Writers/Arists:

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Ballet AU: Shirayuki catching Obi in a less-than-ideal situation, i.e., in his sweatpants, being super casual, a slob, hilariously emotionally compromised, etc.

“Classes going well?”

Shirayuki’s face draws up in confusion, blinking as she turns to her friend. Around them, a million people go about their way amidst the blaring of horns and exhaust fumes and she is shuffled forward towards the crosswalk. “Classes?”

Yuzuri shrugs her shoulders, but her eyes are glittering. “Or whatever your calling your extra sessions with ‘Monsieur Obi’.”

She blushes, looking away, but the light changes and she is being pushed along with the crowd. It takes her a moment to find her footing. “I am improving,” she finally admits, tugging at the fringe of her scarf. “But I could do without all his games.”

Yuzuri’s hooks arms with her and maneuvers them through the ever-thickening crowd. “He teases everyone,” she grins, pulling them onto the sidewalk. “You should keep going while the offer is open. There are plenty of dancers in our studio who would kill to have this chance.”

Shirayuki frowns. “Do you think it is unfair, though?”

Her friend glances at her out of the corner of her eye. “If Zen feels that you’re ready…”

“But I don’t feel ready.”

Yuzuri hums. “You’ve still got a few more weeks until tryouts. If you decide you’re not interested, the chorus will still be there. I think you would more than qualify for the coryphée right now; maybe even a soloist.”

Shirayuki exhales through her nose, ducking her head to mumble into her scarf. “All this extra attention is too much.”

There’s a pause, but she can feel Yuzuri’s eyes boring into her. “No one else has complained about him.”

Shirayuki feels heat crawl up her neck and will steadfastly blame it on the cold if Yuzuri points it out. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing more than you would like it to,” she replies with a slow smile.

Puffing out her cheeks, Shirayuki stuffs her hands into her coat and speeds up, leaving Yuzuri’s insinuations and muffled giggles behind her. Rounding the corner, she glances up just in time to see Zen following Izana and Haki into the studio.

A smile breaks out across her face, her earlier conversation all but forgotten. “Zen!” she calls.

Three sets of startlingly blue eyes turn towards her at once, but only Zen breaks off, grin wide as he changes course. “Shirayuki!” he calls back, waving at his brother to go ahead and lightly jogging towards her. Izana stares at them for a moment more before placing his hand on the small of Haki’s back, ushering them inside.

“How have you been? I missed you,” she smiles as he comes closer.

“Sorry,” he replies bashfully, taking her arm and pulling them tight alongside the building to stay out of the way of passersby’s. Shirayuki feels her stomach flutter at the kindness, wishing that she had met men like him back home. “I know it’s been a few days. Things have been crazy.”

Shirayuki shakes her head. “No, no. It’s fine. You have a lot of work. I understand.”

Yuzuri catches up, waving at the both of them before gliding past to go inside.

“How have things being going?” Zen asks, turning his gaze back to hers after a brief nod of acknowledgment. “Are your sessions with Obi going well?”

Shirayuki nods emphatically—just because she was having misgivings about auditioning for prima doesn’t mean that she would speak poorly of him. “I’m learning a lot,” she admits, and that was no lie. There was no way to study with Obi without improvement.

Zen looks relieved. “That’s good,” he breathes, squeezing her arm and his free hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

Shirayuki blushes painfully, and Zen- Zen looks surprised at his own actions, a flush working its way across his own fair complexion. Coughing, he drops his hands and looks away.

“Um,” Shirayuki begins, desperately looking for a way to distract the both of them. “Would you like to go with me to that art museum next week?”

Zen looks back at her, confused, before he grimaces. “Ah,” he scratches his head with an apologetic wince, “next week is a big holiday here. Thanksgiving. My brother and I are going to be with family.”

“Oh.” Shirayuki is surprised about the sudden empty feeling in her chest. She hopes it’s not showing on her face. “Um, that’s understandable. You have fun.”

“Thanks,” he grins, tense. “Do you have any plans?”

She shuffles, looking towards the studio doors. Maybe she’ll do something with Yuzuri? But Yuzuri has family in Virginia-

“Um… Yea,” she lies.

Zen’s face brightens. “That’s great!”

Shirayuki smiles back tightly. “Yea. Great.”

~ ~ ~

The tune of the piano keys and the clap of several dozen shoes against the stage almost drown out her thoughts as she turns, dancing towards the menagerie of other white clad ballerinas. She leaps, sweeping past clouds of muslin and silk, and twirls into a massive kneeling V-formation.

The piano comes to an abrupt and final halt and she hears the arrival of one late pair of shoes from somewhere stage left with an internal flinch. They were going to have to do this a few more times. From the audience, the single clap of a pair of hands echoes through the theatre. “Okay!” Haruka calls. “Line up!”

She pulls herself to standing, joining the other dancers in a graceful sweep to stand in first position along the front of the stage.

Haruka paces slowly in front of them, a clipboard in hand and a grim expression on his face. Shirayuki feels sweat gather along the nape of her neck.

“Jessica,” he calls.

Down the line, the young blonde dips and takes a step forward. “Yes, Ballet Master?”

“What was that?”

The girl’s face pales half a shade. “I apologize, sir. It won’t happen again.”

He grunts. “See to it.”

She nods, stepping back into line.

“Clarise,” he calls next.

“Yes?” another woman calls, stepping forward.

“Shirayuki,” a soft female voice murmurs from over her shoulder. Shirayuki starts, craning her neck and her eyes going wide at the sight of Haki standing behind her.

“Yes?” she squeaks.

The woman reaches down, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of formation. Shirayuki panics, glancing at Haruka who is busy berating the other chorus girl. “I’m—”

“You’re fine,” the woman says quietly, tugging her towards the wings. “I watched. He’s not going to have critique.”

“But-!” she begins loudly, only to duck her head apologetically and lower her voice at Haki’s hurried expression. “But he always has critique for me.”

Haki smiles. “Not this time.”

Shirayuki frowns, following the other woman’s clipped pace off stage and through the heavy double doors into the hallway just as another girl’s name is called.

It’s no less busy here, but it is more private. Technicians and crew move quickly past them, hefting heavy equipment and wires through the passageway, and the smell of paint and the sound of hammers is thick in the air. Haki ignores it all, turning to her with a worried expression.

“Obi’s late and he’s not answering his phone,” she informs her.

Shirayuki’s brows furrow, concerned but confused. “Okay,” she replies slowly.

Haki’s grip shifts to her wrist, squeezing. “Do you think you could go check in on him? We already pushed back the rat king sequence until later on, but I want to make sure he’s alright.”

Shirayuki’s frown deepens, wondering if perhaps this concern had less to do with reality and more to do with her… delicate condition. “Um,” she glances back at the double doors, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I’ll let Haruka know. It’ll be fine,” Haki pushes. “But with the news and all-” she pauses, pursing her lips. “Just… check?”

Shirayuki looks at the other woman, realization slowly dawning on her. “Where does he live?”

Haki smiles, grateful. “Not far. Just about twenty minutes from here. I’ll show you on the map.”

~ ~ ~

She takes the stairs to the 5th floor of the high rise two at a time, her heart pounding violently in her chest. She is��� irritated. And terrified. How could he live on his own in this city, that accent, and no doorman?

Grabbing at the railing to keep herself upright when she reaches the landing, she bends at the hip and heaves air into her lungs. Gasping, she shoves herself forward, rummages around the deep pockets of her jacket. Finding the slip of paper, she looks for the apartment number and stumbles through the hallway.

513A.

Double checking the faded gold on the door to Haki’s elegant scrawl, she raises her fist to peeling paint and knocks.

Silence.

Swallowing, she leans forward, listening for the sound of movement through the door and feeling her stomach churn when she can hear nothing. The second time, she knocks louder, telling herself that he was asleep and couldn’t possibly hear such a polite knock.

Still nothing. Down the hall, a neighbor’s dog barks.

When she bangs on the door for the fifth time in as many minutes, watching paint flaking off onto the floor, she feels herself begin to panic. Where was he? Did he make it home safely last night? Had anyone seen him since she had practice with him last?

The most recent uprising in Czechoslovakia had lined the periphery of her journey to the studio this morning, and the disgruntled sounds of men complaining about the potential for U.S. intervention in Soviet affairs echoed just at the edge of her hearing. But it seemed so distant, so far away. She hadn’t even thought of it until Haki alluded to it. And while she knew Obi had nothing to do with it personally, she was also aware that having nothing to do with something in your home country didn’t mean you passed on the streets here unharassed.

God, how many times had middle aged men spit at her since she arrived in this country? And that War had ended when she was a baby.

Shirayuki’s frets, her thoughts racing down to the first floor where she saw the superintendent’s office. The door had been closed and unwelcoming, but maybe she should start there. Backing away, she turns on her heel when she hears the rattling of locks behind her.

Snapping back, she watches the door crack open just as Obi is in the middle of wide yawn and … . oh. Oh.

He’s only wearing his underwear (which leaves nothing to the imagination) and miles of sculpted thighs and carved torso are open for her perusal. Craning her neck up quickly, she dutifully keeps her gaze above his chin. However, the relief in seeing him alive and well is somehow soured by the sight of his hair wild and him scrubbing the crust of sleep off of his face.

“Where have you been?!” she demands.

Obi’s eyes clear of his yawn and he blinks down at her, his hand going to his shoulder to cover himself. “Um…”

“Haki sent me to come check on you.” She should be embarrassed about the way her voice is raising, but now that she sees he is fine, she can’t calm down. “You weren’t answering your phone. You weren’t answering your door. The news is insane and practice started over an hour ago, and–!”

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, reaching out towards her but not touching. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. My phone has been unplugged since last night because I get random calls at 2am. But I’m fine.”

Her face pinches roughly, and it’s not until his hands land lightly on her shoulders that she realizes that she’s shaking. “You can’t-” she gasps. “You can’t just not show up. People worry.”

Obi’s face draws blank, but his eyes widen just a smidge and a faint flush of surprise tickles the tips of his ears. Blinking, he looks away from her and glances down the hall on either side. “Come in,” he offers. “You can yell at me more while I get dressed.”

Shirayuki swallows down her anger, a decline on the tip of her tongue, but he smiles and something about it stops her cold.

“You can protect me from whatever hit the front pages out there,” he smiles.

Frustration hard on her heart, she nods and takes a step forward, her clothed shoulder brushing against his bare chest. She stands at the entrance, toeing off her shoes and looking everywhere but him.

“Do you always answer your door wearing just that?” she asks thickly.

He laughs, his hands landing on her shoulders once more to steer her towards a living room furnished with sparse and tattered fixtures. “Just for you, Mademoiselle,” he says cheekily. “Have a seat and I’ll put on a bit more.”

She nods, taking a tentative step forward and she hears him pad away from her, disappearing into the bedroom. Awkwardly, she sits on the edge of a kitchen chair, looking around at the space. “Did you just move in?” she calls.

His voice is muffled behind the door. “A couple of months ago,” he replies.

Her frown deepens, tracing the deep groves and pencil marks on the kitchen table. If she could afford better, she knew he could, but it looked like he got these from a street corner somewhere.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, coming into the room as he slides his belt through the hoops of his jeans.

Shirayuki glances over at him and shifts uncomfortably. “You’re late,” she replies.

He runs the leather through the buckle, pulling it tight and glances up with a small grin. “I’m already late, Mademoiselle. No reason to go to practice on an empty stomach. Did you eat breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry when I wake up,” she replies, squirming in her seat.

His lips ruck up. “Right. Well, two omelets, then.”

~ ~ ~

It’s a relief to know that his refrigerator is nowhere near as sparse as the rest of his apartment.

“This is really good,” she says as she pokes at the edge of the omelet, pulling out a piece of red pepper and popping it in her mouth.

He puffs up, proud, and she has to take a drink to hide her smile. “Well, don’t tell anyone,” he grins, leaning forward with a conspiratorial whisper. “But I’m a famous chef back in Leningrad.”

“Oh?” she inquires, playing along and taking a sip of her tea.

“Mm,” he nods before crossing his arms and sighing deeply. “Unfortunately, you’ll never see my cooking shows in this country. They’ve all been blacklisted.”

She snorts, covering her face with her hand and turning her head to cough. “You do know that the blacklists here ended a decade ago.”

His grin splits his face and he leans over the table, getting so close that she can smell his shampoo. “How do you know that for sure, Mademoiselle?”

Her face is bright red when she smiles up at him, but she shrinks back, ducking her head into the cowl of her sweater. “Why would they hide it?”

Obi pulls back. “Oh, the U.S. government doesn’t want American women defecting to Soviet Russia. If they found out how handsome and talented we all are, well… the American men would be terribly lonely.”

Shirayuki laughs, a full throated sound that escapes her from the bottom of her belly. She tries to cover her mouth, but it spills over and she tilts her head towards the side. When she glances at him from the corner of her eye, he sits across from her the perfect picture of hurt.

“Why are you laughing? It’s the truth!”

Whatever composure she had recovered, breaks. Laughter comes out in disgusting snorts until she coughs violently from trying to hold it in, giggles interspersed as she gasps for air. Through her blurry eyes, she can see him leaning forward, holding out an arm to catch her, but smiling. Waving her hand to ward him off, she turns her head and fans her face.

“Do you miss it?” she finally asks when she gets enough air.

He looks up at her with a question, chewing. “Hmm?”

“Do you miss home?” she smiles, leaning down to scoop up another mouthful of food.

“I wonder,” he muses, his voice going distant. She bows her head, stabbing at the eggs and feeling a little guilty. Maybe that was a rude question, but- but she thought out of everyone she had met since arriving, maybe he would be someone who understood. But then again, maybe—

“I wouldn’t call Leningrad home,” he says after a moment and her shoulders drop. Maybe it was just her, then. “…But. I do miss the grandmother down the block that made the best pirozhki and would always save me the last one for me. And the sound of my mother tongue on the street. And the smell of the cold when winter comes, and again when it goes.” She glances up slowly to see him smiling gently at her. “You?”

Her heart softens a bit and she nods. “Yea. I reaaaaaaaallllllly miss ramen,” she says, shaking her fists by her head. His eyes crinkle and he shovels another bite into his mouth. Her eyes become misty suddenly and she looks back down at her plate. “And I’ve been thinking a lot today about how this will be my first year not going to the shrine in my hometown for New Year’s. I worry about who is going to care for my family’s graves.”

The silence stretches between them and she can feel his eyes on her. She turns to look out the window. “I hope they understand.”

“I’m sure they do,” he replies, and she turns her hopeful gaze back towards him. He points at her plate. “Are you finished?”

She looks down, surprised when she sees that somehow she had eaten the whole thing. She hadn’t finished a meal since this whole mess started. Blinking, she nods and he grabs both of their dishes, heading for the kitchen.

She stares at his back. “Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” she blurts out, before ducking her head again with a grimace. “I mean are you going somewhere?”

He turns on the sink, running the plates under the water and glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Of course.”

Shirayuki’s heart sinks for the second time today. “Where are you going?” she asks, turning towards the other chair to fetch her jacket.

A hand swoops down, pinching her nose and she squeaks, releasing the fabric to clap her hands over her face. Craning her neck up to see him hovering above her, she wonders when he got so close.

“To the studio. With you,” he winks. “You’re nowhere near ready for your audition.”