#i think shirayuki would realize she's interested

[kirayaykimura]

Tiding Over

I don't think you need to read in every lifetime, but this is set in the same, vague universe. Quick primer in case it's not clear in the fic itself: Shirayuki and Obi remember past lives.

Back before it was a cliche, Obi had once made Shirayuki an offer: if they were both still single by the time she was 30, he would marry her. She’d died at 29. Obi had never offered again. 

This wasn’t to say that he stopped trying. There was the time he’d brought her a box of sweets tied with a red ribbon - a local custom that signified an intent to court. Just to make her life easier, he’d promised. He’d known about her thing with Zen and had completely respected it. The courting gesture was there to keep everyone away. If they thought he was serious about marrying her, the other nosy townsfolk might stop setting her up with their sons and nephews. If there was a mild, tiny sliver of hope that she might some day settle for him, no one could prove it. She’d told him to not bother with that sort of thing again; she could handle the matchmaking herself. He should save his coins for girls he actually liked. 

With the distressing privilege of hindsight, he realizes there is something of a pattern here. He tentatively offers up the in vogue gesture of romantic interest for the era - a carved wooden spoon, sticky rice around two red chopsticks, camping (because the Puritans loved being miserable) - and watches as she gently dismisses them. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

The only thing stopping him from bringing it up to apologize and making them both face this thing he’s had for her for centuries is the fact that he’s fairly certain she has never realized the offerings for what they are. That’s not the type of person she is. She’s direct and kind; she wouldn’t leave him dangling because it’s easier than rejecting him outright, nor would she play dumb.

This theory is all but confirmed when he walks in on her being hit on by some frat bro. He misses what the boy originally asks, but he hears Shirayuki say, “Sure, I’ll see if anyone else is free,” as he slips into the lab she’s practically lived in all semester. Apparently he isn’t the only one attempting to lure her away from work. 

Her back is turned to Obi and the boy next to her is completely focused on her, so neither of them notice they’re no longer alone. Which means Obi has the distinct pleasure of hearing the boy say, “I thought it could just be us,” and hearing Shirayuki reply, “Why?” 

The boy must have caught some movement out of the corner of his eye because, instead of answering, he turned to face Obi. 

“Hey,” Obi says with a jaunty wave. “Who’s your new friend, Miss?” 

Shirayuki whips around like she’s excited to see him, notebook forgotten on the work station, and he knows for a fact now that it will never get old watching her look happy to see him. She calls out his name in greeting, and he thinks about how no one has ever said his name quite so well because he’s allowed to be pathetic in his own mind. 

The frat bro says, “Oh,” and then leaves with barely a goodbye. 

“Okay,” Shirayuki says, visibly confused by the abrupt turn of events. “Are we still on for Friday?” 

The boy walks faster. 

“Friday?” Obi asks once he’s gone. 

“He said he wanted to get dinner, but he just left while we were making plans.” 

Obi stifles a laugh and says, “A dinner he wanted to do alone while you wanted to make a group thing?” 

Despite the emphasis on the word alone, it still takes her a moment to connect the dots. Once she does, her eyes widen slightly before the confusion settles back in. Again, she asks, “Why?” 

“Yes, why would a boy not have a crush on a beautiful young woman?” 

“I’m not young.” 

“And yet, you don’t look a day over 900.” 

She gives him a stern look that is rendered essentially useless by the way the corners of her lips tick upward. Instead of giving her a chance to fight him on how at least a third of the school’s population is deeply in love with her at the moment, he tosses her an apple that she just barely manages to catch. 

“Come on,” he says. “I’m dragging you away for Yuzuri’s art show.” 

“She asked us not to come to that.” 

“Which is exactly why we’re going.” 

She holds out for about three seconds before she says, “If you’re sure she won’t mind.” 

“She’ll love it. Now, come on. If we hurry, we can grab something to eat before we go.” 

Shirayuki glances down at the apple she did not ask for and holds it out to him. 

“That’s all yours. To tide you over. You didn’t eat lunch, right?” 

Shirayuki’s stomach growls in answer. 

“Thanks,” she says before taking a bite. 

This time, he doesn’t doubt her obliviousness to his courting gesture. The apple is wildly outdated, was popular on a completely different continent, and his presentation is slightly different than tradition dictates, but that’s okay. She doesn’t have to get it. If she doesn’t realize what he’s doing, he can keep using the gestures as a sort of pressure release for himself. He gets to love her quietly. And that’s enough.

[sabraeal]

(promptathon) What would have happened if Obi had actually succeeded in taking Shirayuki's hand That One Time.

Fate is a funny little thing isn’t it?

At time it’s a comfort, a knowing; a certainty you wrap around yourself like a blanket. I am meant for more, you say, because you know, you know in some deep place inside you that there is a greatness you can achieve. A greatness you will achieve. All you have to do is walk on this path, never wander, and you will never know worry greater than the depths of your own self-doubt.

(And sometimes that comfort is cold. You lay on a dirt floor, battered and broken, and you say, oh, this cannot be my end, for what is waiting for me is so much worse than this)

At times it is a cage, it is the kudzu. It grows and it grows, vines twisting up your ankles, rooting you to the spot. You do not pull away – it is too much effort to fight against your nature – but the longer you stay the closer it holds you, reaching up, up, until it wraps around your neck and chokes you, until it twines into your mouth, into your lungs, and there is no more breath to scream.

(But sometimes you need to be held still, don’t you? Drop a coin before you cross the street, narrowly miss being trampled underfoot by a carriage. You look onto the cobbles and see a bird crushed under the wheel. That could have been you, baby girl, that could have been you)

And sometimes it is a thread. A red thread, let’s say. A thing that binds. A thing that holds. It does not strangle, it just tangles, becomes complicated at parts and easy at others. A thing you can ignore until it tugs on you saying, this way.

(But that’s the thing is it not? Thread is so fragile; all it takes is a hard tug, all it takes is a blade’s edge, all it takes is a thrown shoe and

it

just

s n a p s)

When she is quite small, Opa teaches her about the castle in her mind.

How many rooms does it have? she asks, concerned with things a child would be. It’s important that she has her own room, that there might be another for her dolls, and another still for Opa and Oma.

As many as you need, he tells her, taking her hand in his wrinkled, spotted one. And within them, only the decorations your choose to keep.

They spend an afternoon talking about how her castle must be made, hallways and hangings and busts – things to remember places and birthdays and names. When she is older she adds a library, a place to store all the things she learns about outside the city, outside the streets and people she knows; when she is yet older still she adds a greenhouse, each plant meticulously labeled with its name and medicinal properties.

When she flees Tanbarun, she mourns losing her home, but not for long. Everything worth having she has brought with her, locked deep within the palace in her mind. Not even a first prince can breech these walls, can take what is inside.

But it is a second prince that sets it into disarray.

When she closes her eyes, paintings are hung askew, books are thrown from their shelves, plants are overturned. It can all be fixed, all be set right, but the idea that her castle is not impregnable sets her mind racing, makes her wish she could build walls around her heart as well so that such an incursion cannot happen again.

Shirayuki hardly feels the stone beneath her as she walks; she is too busy trying to set her world in order. She had thought she understood her place here, had thought she understood what she wanted from her life here. Her work at the pharmacy challenged her --

No – it fulfilled her. Living in the dorms with the other apprentices had taken a weight off her mind when it came to room and board. She had friends to fill her leisure hours: Kiki for quiet and companionable strolls around the gardens, Mitsuhide always ready with an easy word, Obi for – well, whatever she dreamed up when he happened to pop out of a bush or push his way through a window. And Zen –

She thought Zen had been a part of that too. She hadn’t realized he wanted more.

Next time, I will let you know before I touch you, he had said, a faint smile on his lips. And when I do, you will tell me how you feel.

Her heart flutters frantically in her breast. He wants – no, he needs an answer. And she – she –

Doesn’t have one. How can she, when he’s managed to shake her very foundations with one kiss?

Is that an answer? Love is supposed to be earth-shattering isn’t it? It should make her knees weak, it should make her head light, it should rattle her down to her bones –

But if it does, she doesn’t want it. She likes her neat shelves, her prettily potted plants, her busts on their pedestals. She likes everything being in its place.

Should she tell him no? That she doesn’t want more of…of that? That she wants them to go on being friends, that she doesn’t want more?

She’s not sure that’s true either. This is not the first time he’s touched her, not the first time he’s set her alight, and she doesn’t – she doesn’t want that to stop either. She likes his attention, and she likes the idea of keeping it, of having more of him, but – but –

But is that enough? Or is it just that she likes having any attention?

She shakes her head. Why must this be so difficult? She is a grown woman, she should be able to account for the desires of her own heart. She should just –

Warm leather brushes over her hand, long fingers threading through her own, pressing palms close to kiss. Her steps stutter to a stop as her world focuses down into a single point, and she – she–

There was only Obi behind her, and surely, surely it can’t be him –

She turns on her heel, staring at where their hands join before flicking her gaze back to his face. He blinks slowly, expression as honest as she’s ever seen it, even if it is just dumbstruck.

“Ah-hah,” he chuckles nervously, rubbing at his neck with his other hand. “Miss. I-I thought you looked like you needed a, ah, hand?”

“I –” What can she even say to that? “Um…thank you?”

It’s strange how comforting his touch is, how it quiets the racing of her mind. She enjoys his company now – a step up from a few weeks ago – but she hadn’t thought of him as – as calming. But now he’s holding her, strangely delicate, and she feels as if she can breathe again, as if the whole of her castle has set itself to rights.

“I just –” For once he seems at a loss. “You’ve seen very…distracted today, Miss.”

An understatement, and he knows it. She hasn’t forgotten the probing of earlier this morning, did he scold you harshly, Miss?

“You don’t need to tell me anything,” he says, eyes wide as the words pour out of him. “But if you – if you ever needed to talk, Miss, I’m –” he looks as if he’d give anything to stem the flow – “I’m all ears.”

She should thank him and leave it at that. She likes him, but she’s not sure if she should trust him; he may be loyal to Zen, but he is far too fond of teasing for her comfort. There’s no guarantee that her words won’t go straight in one of his ears and out his mouth to another.

She’s staring at their hands when she blurts out, “Zen kissed me.”

He clenches so hard she thinks she hears her knuckles pop.

“Ahh, sorry, Miss,” he sighs, cheeks darkening as he loosens his grip. “I just –” His mouth twists. “You’re all right though?”

Shirayuki blinks. “Oh, um, yes.”

“Master didn’t –” She watches as the expression drains from his face, leaving a mild mask. “He didn’t hurt you? Or – force you?”

“Oh, no! Obi!” His earlier meddling makes a heartbreaking amount of sense now. “No, he just – took me by surprise. I didn’t – I didn’t know he felt that way.”

All the tension falls out of him on his next breath. “Ah, good, I…”

He goes very still for a moment, and then he rolls back into his usual languid stance, mouth canting mischievously. “So you liked it then?”

“W-what?” She presses a hand to her cheek and nearly scalds herself. “N-no! I mean, it was pleasant. I just…”

“Oh, Master,” he clucks, shaking his head. “Damned by faint praise. What did he do wrong? Too much tongue? Too little? Was he stiff? Did he –”

“N-no!” He’s pulled her closer to tease, and she tries to put space between her and that glinting amber of his gaze. “I just – he just –” She huffs out a breath. “He wants me to tell him how I feel.”

“How you – ohh.” He grimaces. She wishes she could tell him she feels the same, but it seems unfair to Zen. “And you –” He hesitates, eyes widening as he takes in her shy posture, her flushed cheeks. “You don’t know?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean…” She covers her face with her free hand. “I don’t know. I…think I like him? I must. I-I enjoyed the – the um…”

“Kiss?” he offers, so innocent.

“Yes, that.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I just – I like being with him, but…but…”

The dam breaks.

“I’ve only been here a few months,” she admits, though it hurts her to say. “I don’t know whether I like him or the possibility of him. He’s a good friend, and I find myself wanting to be near him, but I’m not sure if it’s that I-I want more, or that I just – just –”

“That you just like having someone to pay attention to you?” She doesn’t know how he says so casually, like there’s nothing wrong with the idea at all, like it doesn’t make her terrible.

“Yes.” Her eyes burn. “I just – I was happy with what I had. I still am. I don’t know if I want more. But I also don’t know that I don’t, and if I say no now, does that mean we could never…?” She shakes her head, staring down at her toes of her boots. “I don’t have any answers for myself, let alone for him.”

“Miss.” Obi tugs at her hand, and she peers up at him, surprised to see how open his face is, how earnest. “If Master really cares for you, he’ll understand if you say you need time.”

He squeezes her hand, gently this time. “You don’t need to have answers on anyone’s time but your own, Miss.”

She blinks. “Obi –”

A horse whinnies, so close, and Obi drops her hand as if it burns.

“Obi! Shirayuki!”

“Master!” he calls out, too loud, smile too wide, and she wonders what it is he feels like he has to hide. “You all returned so quickly!”

“No?” Zen stares at him quizzically as he reins up just behind them. “We’re late. Mitsuhide’s horse threw a shoe.” His gaze passes over the both of them. “What are you two doing out here?”

Obi grimaces. “Ah –”

“Zen.” Shirayuki steps out in front of him. “Do you have time to talk?”

[ohshcscenerios]

New Ouran High School Host Club Theory??

Ok hear me out -

I'm currently watching Snow White with the Red Hair (very adorable, highly recommend) but I noticed a small detail within a second's frame during a royal get-together in the castle.

Notice the tea set on the left? Doesn't it look familiar?

Here's a close up for a better view. Notice the tea pot's lip petalling outwards, the roses on top, the purple detailing the edges with a golden outline...

Now let's take a look at the Host Club's signature tea set-

It's exactly the same!

It's literally the same tea set!

You might think they aren't exactly the same because Ouran's tea cups have roses on the side and the other set doesn't. However, if we take a closer look we'll realize -

The roses do not continue around the tea cup, leaving the other side blank.

Coincidence? I think NOT!

Could this possibly mean Snow White with the Red Hair and Ouran High School Host Club took place in the same universe? Are they existing on the same timeline?

Not to mention the main love interests are eerily similar to each other. Think about it...

Tamaki; the princely type, befriends a commoner before falling in love with her, is gracious and kind, and wants to make others happy.

Haruhi; is blunt, observant, and honest, works hard to achiever her goals, doesn't care how others see her, and values a person's character over their title.

Zen; a literal prince, befriends a commoner before falling in love with her, prioritizes justice and treating others fairly, and is kind-hearted.

Shirayuki; is blunt, observant, and honest, takes pride in her work, doesn't care how others see her, and values a person's character over their title.

Let's take this theory a little farther because this has me thinking...

Snow White with the Red Hair takes place in the Clarines kingdom, hundreds of years before when Ouran takes place in the early twentieth century.

What if Tamaki and Haruhi are the reincarnations of Zen and Shirayuki?

It would explain why Tamaki immediately fell in love with Haruhi but couldn't place why he felt so strongly for her. It would explain why Tamaki chose that specific tea set to be the club's signature set, since it would feel familiar. It would also explain why Haruhi slowly fell in love with Tamaki even when she didn't want to, because there was something pulling her to him.

Mind = Blown.

[claudeng80]

Up In Flames 0.5 (Firefighter AU)

Comes before https://archiveofourown.org/works/9339926/chapters/62157340

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.”

[jostenneil]

I would like some shoujo recs! I haven't read any in a longtime. I don't mind if they have love triangles or love quadrangles as long as the dynamics are good.

i’m sorry for getting to this late! and i hope it’s okay to rec some josei as well, the only difference between shoujo and josei strictly speaking is the age demographic, otherwise both traditionally cater towards women (not that other ppl can’t read these obv!) 

princess tutu (anime) - this is one of the greatest pieces of shoujo i’ve ever been exposed to. it centers on a rly clever and cathartic adaptation of the swan lake mythos, and what’s most interesting about it is its focus on storytelling. the primary tag line of the show is “may those who accept their fate be granted happiness. may those who defy their fate be granted glory”. it’s all about the characters making choices and realizing their own ability to write the story that follows, rather than remaining shackled to the insidious story penned by the primary villain, drosselmeyer. the relationships are complex and dark but also rly healing in the long run, and the ballet aesthetics are exquisite! 

kanata kara (manga) - this isekai manga centers on noriko, a girl suddenly dropped into an alternate world where she’s referred to as “the awakening”, fated to awaken the monstrous sky demon. everyone in this world is bent on getting “the awakening” first to use it to their own benefit, but noriko is actually found by the sky demon, a boy named izark, and they start to travel together through various countries while on the run. the rly charming point of kanata kara is that noriko doesn’t magically know the language of the world, she has to learn it entirely from scratch. she’s also someone who works rly hard to be useful and a source of solid support for izark and the friends she makes, and i think that coupled with the narrative message of each person having their part to play in the betterment of the world is rly inspiring to read about 

akagami no shirayukihime (anime/manga) - shirayuki is a girl with rly vibrant red hair, and the prince of her country wants her as his concubine bc of it, so she decides to run away to the neighboring country. there she meets the country’s second prince, zen, along with his friends at the palace, and she makes a new living for herself as a palace pharmacist. it’s a rly sweet manga that i appreciate for delving into the behind the scenes part of court politics, particularly bc we tend to think that fantasies imply battles, but that’s not necessarily the end all, be all of relations between countries. there’s also a wonderful focus on shirayuki’s work as a pharmacist, and how her knowledge of plants and medicinal herbs helps her support zen as he works to become a prince more involved with his people 

legend of basara (manga) - this series focuses on a post apocalyptic japan ruled by an oppressive emperor. a child of prophecy is fated to be born into a village and save the country, and when twins are born, the villagers assume the brother is the fated savior. when they grow up, however, one of the emperor’s sons, the red king, kills the brother, and so his sister, sarasa, has to pretend she’s the one who died so she can carry on the revolution as her brother, else all hope is lost. all of this is tied in with the fact that in her rare free time, sarasa happens to meet a boy named shuri, who is actually the red king! neither of them know each other’s real identities or that they’re the ones facing each other on the battlefield, so it makes for a rly angty romance, coupled in with excellent political commentary on privilege and oppression. shuri has one of the best antagonist to protagonist developments i’ve ever seen, and sarasa is a great example of a character vested with so much responsibility, who wants to bring her people to freedom but also be just a normal girl 

honey and clover (anime/manga) - this is one of my all time favorites! it follows some university students attending art school and their day-to-day life as they struggle to create, maintain relationships with each other, graduate, etc. i think chica umino’s works in general can be exemplified by her portrayal of every day life, and how it’s not so mundane and actually carries a lot of emotion. there’s so much catharsis present in this work for me bc it really reaches out to people who feel lost of purposeless or alone in their lives and feel like they have no reason to continue creating or moving forward. i think it also has a rly realistic portrayal of romance in the sense that its focus is on how characters grow through romance rather than whether they end up with a certain person. esp if you’re a college student, i think it’ll rly resonate with you 

kobato (manga) - this was serialized in a seinen magazine for some reason but i think most ppl agree it feels shoujo in delivery. it’s probably my personal favorite clamp work. the floral aesthetics and artwork of angels is absolutely gorgeous, and it features a rly endearing story about a girl, kobato, who must collect “healed hearts” in a bottle in order to return to a certain place. i can’t really reveal what i most enjoy about it without giving away serious spoilers, but there’s that classic clamp execution of the binding nature of contracts and weighing the things we want against the things we must do, which makes for some rly heartfelt, angsty progressions. mostly i just love seeing the narrative unfold kobato, as she starts off as is this seemingly naive girl who we come to realize is actually hurting deeply inside

lovely complex (anime) - this is a classic so if you’ve already heard of it i wouldn’t be surprised but nonetheless it’s probably my favorite in that area of early 00s shoujo romcoms. the story follows risa and otani, who are known as a comedic duo in their high school bc she’s unusually tall and he’s unusually short. there’s lots of gags and kidding around, but ultimately the story delves into how both of them subconsciously fall for each other despite treating each other like gag men at first. there’s comedic love triangles and plenty of miscommunication galore, but i think it takes these shoujo tropes and puts a rly refreshing twist on them that drives you crazy in a way that’s actually very entertaining. the infamous bear curry gag has practically been immortalized in shoujo fandom 

yumeiro patissiere (manga) - this is another one most people have probably heard of BUT, that’s usually bc of the anime. the manga is actually much shorter and different in some ways, and at the end of the day i think i prefer it, esp art wise as the charm in matsumoto’s art style is just impossible to replicate anywhere else. it follows a girl named ichigo, who has a very sensitive taste palate and is spontaneously selected to attend a patissieres academy, despite the fact that she can’t cook for shit! she’s placed in the a-level class alongside the academy’s three genius students, commonly called the “sweets princes”, and they befriend and gradually help her hone her skills until she’s at a level where she can compete with them on a team. all in all it’s a rly endearing story about perseverance, hard work, and the desire to make ppl happy with the food you make for them (kitchen princess is also a predecessor to this series that i think may even have heavily inspired it and i would recommend it, too! it’s just a little on the darker side in terms of dramatics) 

this is just the start of a list tbh but these are some of my all time favorites that came to mind! do let me know if you try out and enjoy any of them, i would love to hear about it ❤️

[recurring-polynya]

Just finished Dear Wormwood. And it is genuinely one of the most interesting AUs I've ever read. I know it's not a funny story but i laughed when Rukia declared that she didn't remember breaking up with him. I have SO MANY questions for that AU? Would you ever continue it? If not, would you share your other headcanons for that AU? I MEAN HOW COME RENJI IS THE NEXT HEIR OF KUCHIKI??? AND WHY DID RUKIA LEAVE??? WHAT HAPPENS NEXT??? AAAAAAHHHHH I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS!!!

Thank you so much! Dear Wormwood is so near and dear to my heart. It is, objectively, the least popular thing I have ever written, but I felt like the people who liked it really liked it. Obviously, I am always happy to talk about it.

First off, I am incapable of writing things that are purely anything. I put funny bits in my tragedies, I'll throw some gut-wrenching pang of grief into the middle of what is otherwise a comedy. I was once accused of including the full-range of human emotion in a fanfic about amnesia role-play sex. "I don't recall breaking up with you" is hilarious. I do not do this on purpose, it just happens.

So, the thing about this story is that I am not likely to write another chunk of it, as I sometimes do with my shorties. If I was going to work on it, I would want to do it right, which is to say, write it out as a full story. I kinda doubt I ever will, both because, as I said, it wasn’t very popular and I like attention, but also, I think I would want to finish all of Heart is a Muscle first and that’s... gonna take awhile.

Anyway, let’s talk about the story! (cut for spoilers, both for Dear Wormwood and Heart is a Muscle as a series)

I will get to the questions eventually, but I think it would help to try to explain the general concept. One of the reasons this story is so important to me is because it digs into my primary characterization of Rukia and Renji and their relationships to their zanpakutou, which is basically the lynchpin of everything I write.

I watched the Bleach anime first, re-watched it again years later, and then read the manga, so a lot of my headcanons were formed by the anime, and then refined by the manga. My initial impression was that Renji and Zabimaru fit together in a fairly straightforward way-- Renji is a shouty hothead, and so is his zanpakutou, QED. I struggled to make a similar narrative for Rukia. I tried to think about the things Sode no Shirayuki stands for-- patience, perseverance, inevitability, stoicism, self-sacrifice for a larger goal. This fit nicely, I feel, with Rukia-in-battle, particularly with her bankai. But unlike other characters, none of these are Rukia's natural characteristics. Rukia is impulsive--the very premise of Bleach hinges on her split-second decision to give all her powers to a human she just met. She's hot-tempered, she's dramatic, she's impatient, she loves her friends with her entire heart. If you look at other shinigami-- Ikkaku is a good example, his zanpakutou has basically the same personality as him, taken to its extreme. But Sode no Shirayuki has a tempering effect on Rukia-- she makes Rukia a stronger fighter overall by encouraging the qualities she lacks.

The more I thought about this, and as I mentioned, reading the manga, I realized that Renji isn't naturally impulsive or overzealous. When he loses the love of his life, he makes a 40-year-plan to get her back and then he does it. He finds out he's been appointed vice-captain shortly before Rukia leaves for her Living World mission, and decides that he would rather wait a month until she gets back to tell her, because he wants to be fully vested in his position. The anime tends to play up his buffoonish moments, but if you stick to the manga, for the most part, he is a thoughtful and effective fighter, not someone who runs off half-cocked. In fact, some of his worst mistakes come from his inability to react to new information-- when he comes to arrest Rukia, he expects that her powers have been "stolen" and has difficulty pivoting when it turns out that she gave them away. Once they're back in Soul Society, he finds out that Byakuya is not going to do anything to save Rukia, which he had taken as a given, and he's paralyzed for a significant amount of time. I've seen analyses of his two bankai that pick up on this too-- Hihiou Zabimaru allows him to stay in one place, to armor himself, and attack from afar. In order to use So-oh Zabimaru, he has to move, to actually put himself into the action. Just like with Rukia, his zanpakutou counters his natural tendencies, pushing him to action when he would otherwise hesitate.

Furthermore, these counterbalancing tendencies are each other’s personalities. I have always liked the idea that a zanpakutou starts out as sort of a nebulous spirit that takes its form and qualities based on the memories and experiences and hopes and fears of the shinigami it attaches itself to. If you've read my Heart is a Muscle series, there's a lot of implications in there that Rukia and Renji were so close as children, and the fact that one of the zanpaktou in question is already a chimera, that this process happened as... kind of a mess that had to be split apart when they grew up and became shinigami. (There’s a little more to it than this, but I’m trying not to blow the whole thing. tbh, I can never tell how obvious all of this is, since no one has ever actually mentioned it in the comments)

But what if it weren't so? What if Renji had ended up the cold, dispassionate zanpakutou? What if Rukia was just one idiot with no impulse control inside of another idiot with no impulse control? In canon, they are both sort of late bloomers, and I think this is because they are both constantly struggling with being the person their zanpakutou wants them to be. In Dear Wormwood, though, one major difference from canon is that this conflict is erased-- they both excel in school right away. There's an important line in there about them being hailed as the strongest shinigami in their generation.

There's a problem, though, which is the millstone of fate. Canon Rukia and Renji don't survive the Soul Society arc because they're strong, they survive it specifically because they aren't strong enough. If Rukia had been more of a hotshot, she wouldn't have slipped while defending Ichigo's family and she wouldn't have needed to give him her powers. If Renji hadn't had to give in and beg Ichigo for help, he might not have been able to fight all those captains on Soukyoku Hill. Aizen treats them both as pretty disposable, and doesn't bother to specifically neutralize them, the way he does to, say, Hitsugaya and Hinamori.

In other words, Dear Wormwood has 300 different possible endings, and they are all bad. I actually intended to have one of Rukia or Renji kill the other (I honestly don't remember which, because it could have been either), but then I chickened out. If it were to continue, Renji might have a pang of conscience, turn his back on his clan, and break Rukia out of prison, only for them to die together in the escape attempt, because even the two brightest shinigami of their generation aren't enough to take out multiple captains at once. Or maybe Ichigo kills Renji, because this Renji doesn't surrender and ask for help from pitiful ryouka. Or Renji might kill Ichigo in their second confrontation and then stand next to Byakuya while Rukia gets executed. Or maybe Renji tries to figures out what's going on, and gets murdered by Aizen and then Rukia gets executed. It is Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. There is no good end. There was a moment when things could have been different, but they somehow, they missed it.

Anyway, this has veered so wildly off topic, let me get back to your actual questions:

The actually pivot point of this AU is the time Renji and Rukia leave Inuzuri for the Academy, and Rukia ends up with the part of their zanpakutou that is Zabimaru and Renji ends up with part that becomes Sode no Shirayuki. They are basically superstars, prodigies in the vein of Gin and Hitsugaya. Byakuya hears about Rukia, probably however he did in canon and shows up to propose an adoption. There’s a problem, though: This Rukia isn’t lonely and sad, feeling left behind by her only friend. This Rukia is fierce and proud and she wants to fight Hollows, not play baby sister for some fancy rich prat. She turns him down.

I don’t think Rukia ever really had a choice in canon. Imagine, an Inuzuri mongrel turning down an adoption to the great Kuchiki clan. The absolute gall. Renji and Rukia already have a bit of a reputation, though, and it’s common knowledge that the only way to get Inuzuri Rukia to do anything is to appeal to her big, stone-faced friend Abarai. The Kuchiki corner Renji and lay out their case logically. He can convince Rukia to accept the adoption, and both he and she will be set up for a life of fame and fortune, or Byakuya will make the rest of their existence a very short misery. So, Renji talks Rukia into it. The deal is this: Rukia is adopted as First Daughter, and immediately betrothed to Renji. They will go live with the Kuchiki. They will be given positions in the Sixth. In canon, I always say that Rukia is specifically excluded from the line of succession, but in this case, Rukia and Renji are bursting with potential, and the more intractable Kuchiki elders can be won over by fantasizing over what kind of babies they’ll make. They are named presumptive co-heirs, displaceable if Byakuya ever has his own children.

Byakuya and Rukia did not actually get along very well during their first 40 years together in canon, but at least they ignored each other. For Byakuya, it is one thing to have a sad ghost of his dead wife wandering about his house. It is an entirely different case to have an angry hellcat who looks like his wife and refuses to act the part of a Kuchiki. Wormwood Rukia doesn’t want to dress up. She doesn’t want to learn proper etiquette and respect her elders. She doesn’t want to follow the rigid hierarchy of the Sixth. Rukia likes the actually shinigami parts. She likes learning swordwork and intricate kidou. She likes chasing Renji up the ranks and fighting Hollows back-to-back with him and trying to crack his calm demeanor by seducing him in utter inappropriate parts of Kuchiki Manor.

It’s unsustainable, though. Byakuya keeps trying to control Rukia, who refuses to do a thing that he says. Renji is stuck between them. He is everything Byakuya has ever wanted in a younger brother-- serious, studious, hardworking. This pisses Rukia off, to be honest, and it becomes harder and harder for Renji to wring any sort of compromise out of her. I never actually thought about what the precipitating event of Rukia’s departure might be, but in some sense it doesn’t matter, it is inevitable. Rukia is sick of Byakuya, he can’t live with her and she can’t live with him, and furthermore, Rukia realizes that she’s dragging Renji onto Byakuya’s bad side, blowing the noble future he works so hard for to smithereens. In any AU there are some things that are immutable, and in this case, it is Rukia who lets Renji go so he can have a good life with the Kuchiki while she goes off to find her own path. (It might have been nice if she had told him this, or that she still loves him, but as I said, some things are immutable)

Byakuya is furious at this affront, but he is done with Rukia. In his mind, going to the Eleventh is about as humiliating as anything he could do to her. The only person who isn’t scared shitless of him is Renji, who knows that this will blow over eventually, and that it will go worse for him if he doesn’t stand by his brother at this time. I cannot overemphasize what an utterly inhuman reaction this is-- Renji has just had his heart broken, and his reaction is to be supportive of the very person who drove away the girl he loves (and by “be supportive” I mean, he goes to work every day and turns in his paperwork on time and never asks Byakuya any personal questions). But anyway, this is why he’s still Heir-- everyone else is afraid to go anywhere near the Byakuya Blast Radius. This is not a Renji that relies on the love and support of his friends. This is a Renji who endures. Someone asked me once if he was still friends with Kira and Hinamori, and he is. Now, all three of them are complete basket cases with unhealthy emotional attachments to horrible people.

Seriously, what a fun AU, eh?

[realtacuardach]

On Ice

Figure Skating AU for Obiyuki Bingo 21!

(Special thanks for @sabraeal , @bubblesthemonsterartist , @ruleofexception , and youlee on the Obiyuki Discord for help with the music!)

~~~

Stepping onto the ice, Shirayuki felt herself leaving her troubles behind to stay, as they always did, on the benches behind the plexiglass. Her breath gusted out from her mouth, trailing behind as she glided to the center of the silent rink. She reached above her head, feeling her shoulders pop satisfyingly, before craning her head back to release the tension in her neck. Nothing could release all the tension she was feeling at the moment, but it definitely helped - somewhat.

She took another deep breath, bent her knee so that one leg stretched out behind her while the other took most of her weight - and pushed off.

The ice rink was a lot quieter now than it was in the middle of the day, the Olympic-quality rinks hosting times for ice hockey players, speed skaters, and ice dancers. It got even louder when the rink opened up for the public - those of the public who could afford it, anyway - because the director through that cultivating public support opened the rink up for more interest in the sports programs, a greater influx of talent that he could presumably snap up, and, of course, more merchandising opportunities.

Izana certainly likes to keep a finger on the pulse of everything, Shirayuki thought to herself, and choked a little on the foreign bitterness intermingling with the observation. Usually, it bemused her more than anything else, but today…

She tried to push the thought away as she finished one lap and started another, picking up speed. Cold air streamed more and more quickly past her face as she rounded the rink, making her eyes water, which at least gave her something to focus on.

I shouldn’t be surprised, I should have seen this coming, she thought, the cold and stinging eyes not powerful enough to slow down her mind. She slowed to a stop, realization dawning as she began to feel the burn in her calves. No, I’m not surprised, it’s what I expected.

Somehow, that only made her feel worse.

Shirayuki huddled down, resting her hips against the scuffed ice, her arms wrapped around her knees, the old insulated pants crinkling in a familiar way that soothed her, just a little bit.

Really, she should just be grateful that Zen wasn’t more hurt. He’d been lucky that she’d been watching the last-minute scrimmage he and his team had put on after hockey practice, before their paired skating practice. It could have been a lot worse.

She exhaled heavily, squeezing her face more tightly into her knee.

“All right there, Twirls?”

Shirayuki looked up and craned her head towards the sound. The side doors for the storage area for the Zamboni were open, and she saw the familiar form of Obi leaning against the machine.

She would have preferred to have been alone with her thoughts, but if anyone was to find her, she was glad it was him. She blinked away the traitorous moisture, put on her brightest smile, and nodded briskly. “No.”

Shirayuki cursed. She could never lie to him.

Even from across the rink, she could see his eyebrow arch, stretching the old scar above his eye. He straightened up a little, all his muscles at attention despite his deceptively languid stance. “Seem a little undecided there, Twirls.”

“I just got back from the hospital.””

“Yeah?” Obi responded. “How’s Ace doing? I’ve never seen Coach turn that shade of red before.”

Mitsuhide took a lot of things in stride, but there were two things that he absolutely did not. Like a proper Canadian transplant, the preservation and promotion of hockey was paramount to him. One did not mess with his hockey team and escape unscathed.

The other thing was Zen - his safety and well-being, not only as his friend but also as his star player, was also paramount.

So Zen taking a chance during the scrimmage to use one of his most acrobatic aerial leaps to soar over the other team (ostensibly intending to steal the puck and score a goal rather than slamming into the side of the rink and significantly spraining his ankle) had definitely...elicited a reaction from Mitsuhide.

He had vacillated between panic (“Are you okay, Zen? Can you stand? Is it broken, Shirayuki?”) and rage (You idiot! We were ahead by three goals. And this was practice!”)

Mitsuhide practically frothing at the mouth had unnerved most of the hockey players, so Shirayuki was grateful that Kiki had skated forward, shucking her gloves off to help stabilize Zen’s ankle as she splinted it before grabbing Mitsuhide by the back of his jersey and forcibly escorting him off the rink when he would not stop hovering.

(If it had been a less serious moment, Shirayuki would have laughed at the new redness burning the top of Mitsuhide’s ears as he was behind held by the third thing he had difficulty taking in stride.)

“Doctor says he’ll make a full recovery.”

“No doubt,” Obi grinned, walking smoothly towards her. “Between Coach’s mother-henning and your splinting skills, he didn’t have much time for it to get serious.”

The compliment glowed warm and low in her chest, but then it was overwhelmed by the cold feeling she got as she remembered what happened after Zen’s surgery. She fought back tears, hoping Obi wouldn’t notice.

He did.

“Twirls?”

She would have given everything to respond to him, but she didn’t trust her voice.

Obi sat down beside her, and she felt his arm move across her shoulders before squeezing them reassuringly. She leaned her head onto his chest, feeling the embroidery of his name push against her cheek, grounding her as his chest rose beneath her. A breath shuddered out.

“He’s going to be okay.” Deep breath in, deep breath out. “But Izana says he can’t do both ice skating and hockey any more.”

“Oh.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Well, that’s a shame, Twirls, but it does make sense. This isn’t a Disney Channel movie, he can’t do both at the same time forever. That’s a lot of strain for the ankle to take, even for a paragon like Ace. But he can still play scrimmages and stuff sometimes, right? Boss can’t expect him to just quit hockey completely-”

“He chose hockey.”

The soothing rubbing stopped. “What?”

Shirayuki cleaned her throat again, shuddered. “He chose hockey.”

The hand on her shoulder didn’t move, but she feel his muscles tensing, and she opened her eyes to see his other hand clenched into a fist. He must have noticed that she had noticed because he exhaled deeply and let his fingers relax.

“But...what about your competition?”

Shirayuki sighed and settled back against his chest. “It’s early enough to change categories, and I’m used to skating singles, anyway -”

“That’s what you think? Or what Boss thinks?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter either way, it’s done.”

Obi was still for a long time, so still that Shirayuki eventually opened her eyes to check on him. His jaw was set so tightly that she was surprised that she couldn’t hear teeth grinding, and his eyes, which usually glittered with mischief or glowed with humor, were hard and flinty.

At her movement, Obi looked down at her, his eyes softening and his expression turning apologetic as his hand resumed its soothing rhythm. “I’m sorry, Twirls.” He looked out towards the Zamboni he was supposed to be driving, and snorted. He muttered, so low that she probably wasn’t supposed to hear, “I can’t believe he didn’t-”

Shirayuki shrugged, cutting him off. “He tried - at first, anyway. All the way to the hospital, he was holding my hand and promising that everything would be fine, that he’d figure something out.” She sighed. “I guess he did.”

“Or Boss did.”

“You know how important the team is to him.”

Obi squeezed her shoulder a final time before removing his arm from her shoulders and standing up. “I know how important you are, Twirls.” He held out a hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

She took his hand and let him pull her up. “Where?”

~~~

The moon was big and full, casting an ethereal glow over the frozen pond. Shirayuki took in a deep breath, feeling the icy sharpness of the air sting her nose, and smiled. She loved to skate anywhere, and she’d always be grateful for having the opportunity to skate at the rink, as fancy as it was. But there was something more...real about skating on a pond. It reminded her of the first time she glided across the lake near her grandparents’ pub, the feel of her father’s gloves beneath her mittens as he taught her to skate, of spinning free in the center of a lake, hair flying and arms outstretched, feeling light and airy and free.

Obi’s keys jingled as he shoved them into his coat pocket, stomping through the snow as he made his way over from his pick-up. “Feeling better, Twirls?”

“Just about,” she nodded. “The moon is so beautiful tonight.”

Obi hummed under his breath, and looking up, she saw him staring across the lake deep in thought.

“Makes me think of the night we met,” she continued.

It showed how much time had passed since they had met that Obi didn’t wince. She knew he wasn’t proud of how the first time they’d met officially was after he’d been caught for spreading debris across the pond where she had been practicing to trip her up and scare her off from the up-and-coming hockey player. Some enthusiast for the hockey team hadn’t liked that some outsider redhead was distracting The Zen Wisteria from the game.

Clearly, Obi had not been expecting her to leap over the debris without a moment’s hesitation. She could still remember the surprise and impressed look in his eyes as she met his stare head on after landing. He had even applauded her, which probably had some part in how quickly Mitsuhide and Kiki were able to catch up to him. Zen hadn’t been impressed with the stunt, but he had been impressed with the speed of Obi’s skating.

Despite Zen’s best efforts, Obi could not be pressed upon to actually join the speed skating relay team, but Zen had at least succeeded in getting him a job - reportedly to “keep him out of trouble” but they all knew better - at the rink. He took to driving the Zamboni with an enthusiasm that mildly terrified Mitsuhide, and he had a wealth of information on the surrounding area teams.

Obi gave a self-critical smile. “Good times, right? Except for when I got my face mashed into the snow by Miss Kiki.”

“It was good,” she agreed vehemently, “because it was the night I met you.”

She could feel her ears burning beneath her earmuffs and she quickly looked away over the lake. She heard a cough and saw Obi looking sheepish, one hand behind his head and red glinting through the olive skin of his cheeks.

“Same, Twirls.” He coughed again, and then made a shooing gesture. “Go on already, I know you’ve been dying to.”

Shirayuki needed no further prompting. She sat down in the snow, yanked off her boots, and slid on her skates. She pushed off the snowy ground and wobbled for a moment before steadying herself on Obi’s outstretched arm. “Thanks.” She stepped onto the ice, then craned her head back. “You coming?”

He kept gesturing towards the ice. “In a minute.”

The ice of the pond wasn’t quite as smooth as the ice of the rink - despite all his pleas in the past, Obi had never been allowed to take the Zamboni out for a “test drive” - but she liked that. The blades caught the slight divots and waves the water had settled into as it froze, and it reminded her of the lake back home. She could hear the birds settling into the nightly roosts and smell the fragrant scent of pine trees as a breeze blew into her face. Her nose was already red from the cold, and it felt amazing.

Shirayuki closed her eyes and spread her arms out wide. She felt free.

Na-na-na-na, na-na, na, I wanna start a fight!

Only years of experience in skating kept her from falling face first onto the ice, and she looked towards the sound. “Obi? What?”

The pick-up truck was running, the headlights spilling across the snow, and Obi was standing on the runner, holding onto the door with one hand and waving his phone with the other. Music blared out of the cab of the truck.

So, so what, I’m still a rock star-

“No time like the present, Twirls!” He bellowed over the music. “Let’s get that first-prize routine started.”

“Obi!” She was laughing now, her lungs burning beautifully. “Not that one!”

“It’s a good song,” he protested, “and it was the first one on Torou’s ‘Break My Heart, I’ll Break His Face’ playlist.”

Of course, Torou would have that as a playlist.

“Next one!” She yelled, making a new round around the perimeter of the pond.

“Fine, but I’m telling Torou!”

It was an empty threat, they both knew Torou would take her side.

I do my hair toss, check my nails-

“Yes!” Shirayuki crowed and pushed off to the center, tossing her hair and splaying her fingers along to the music.

Baby, how you feelin’?

She spun once, twice, three times before skating backwards shimmying her shoulders in time with the music. She went faster and faster -

You know you a star, you can touch the sky-

And she leapt. And again. And again.

She was breathless with laughter and could see Obi’s grin all the way from the shore between spins. 

The song faded, and the next began.

It took too long, it took too long, it took too long for you to call back-

“Too fast!” She called.

“Lies!” He called back, “Get it, Twirls!”

She stopped herself with a hand on the ice before tearing off around the pond, picking up speed.

This is the potential break-up song-

She began to make almost lazy spins in the center of the pond, her arms gliding in patterns in front of her and behind her head before speeding up once the chorus starting blaring.

Potential Break-up Song segued into IDGAF, and then into Cee-Lo. She was breathless and her arms ached from skating and her face ached from smiling and everything felt right.

We could have had it all, rolling in the deep

You had my heart inside your hand and

Played it to the beat-

Her heart stuttered despite herself, and she sighed.

“Twirls?”

She waved him off, and picked up speed. Faster and faster she went, leaving her hurt and anger behind, feeling nothing but the burn in her muscles, the ice beneath her feet, the chill in the air, and the music in her ears. One leap, two leaps, and then she slid back on her left foot -

We could have had it all!

-And she spun backwards into a Salchow.

She landed, blushing at the Obi’s whoops and cheers, and felt proud but spent. She slowed down, her heart pounding as Adele continued to sing, and skated towards where she’d left her boots.

Obi padded down towards them as well, bending down to scoop them up and lifting them out towards her as she approached. She shook her head vigorously and stuck out her hand. “No, your phone.”

He arched his brow. “Huh?”

Shirayuki thrust her hand towards the phone, fanning her fingers vigorously. “Your phone, gimme. Come join me!”

“Twirls…”

She knew it was cheating to give him The Eyes. She didn’t care. “Obi.”

He took a shuddering breath and covered his face with his hand. “Fine.” He handed over the phone and tramped through the snow back to the truck.

By the time he had pulled his old skates from the truck bed and laced them onto his feet, she had scrolled through the phone and disregarded several songs before picking the best one.

Obi stepped out onto the ice. “Gonna tell me what you picked?”

She pushed Play and stuck the phone into her pocket, zipping it. “Nope.”

“Twirls…”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she chided, hoping the nonchalance in her voice drowned out the pounding of her heart. She reached out her hands. “Skate with me?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m not that fancy of a skater, Twirls.”

“I don’t want fancy, Obi,” she insisted. “I want you.”

That was...a lot more blunt that she had intended. But it was a night for change, and as his hand enveloped hers, it felt right.

She braced one foot behind her and pulled on his hand. And he followed.

Hand in hand, they skated to the center of the pond, and Shirayuki strained to hear the opening chords from the truck radio. As the piano began, she pushed off, with Obi following their linked hands.

What would I do without your smart mouth?

Obi’s hand tightened on hers, and she was hyper aware of how the heat of his palm burned hers through their gloves.

My head’s underwater, but I’m breathing fine

You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind.

This was moving too fast, she was being too forward. But it felt like all her pieces were falling into place. Obi wasn’t used to leisurely skating, he was more of a speed skater and going slowly nearly made him stumble. But in the next glide, his movements were more smooth and together they fell into the same rhythm.

Cause all of me loves all of you

All your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

Their eyes met, and even now she could see some hesitation. Her grip on his hand tightened and she adjusted her stride so she was closer to him. Even as their breath fogged around them into the cold night air, she could only feel the warmth of him beside her. Shirayuki turned, skating backwards and pulling him to follow her into a small spin. And Obi, who she’d seen charm birds out of the trees, looked almost dazed before following along.

Give your all to me

I’ll give my all to you

You’re my end and my beginning

Even when I lose, I’m winnin’

Slowly, they spun around each other, the circles growing slower and smaller until she was fully in his arms. Even as his arms wrapped around her, she could feel hesitation in the quivering of his muscles. She took a big breath, laced with the scent that was so distinctly Obi, and took the plunge, laying her head against his shoulder.

His breath shuddered, and she was held so close she couldn’t tell where she started and he began.

Give me all of you, oh

Cards on the table, we’re both showing hearts

Risking it all, though it’s hard

There was always a risk to be completely honest. But she trusted Obi. She hoped he trusted her, too.

“Obi?”

“Yes?”

“Is this-” Despite her resolve, she could feel her fingers trembling. She had been brave up until now. “Do you feel- I mean…”

Obi pulled back and gave her an intense look. “Shirayuki.”

(She refused to faint, but hearing him say her actual name like that was making it a real possibility.)

“Yes.”

Her heart leapt into her throat. She was about to show that word all the appreciation it deserved, but then Obi opened his mouth again.

“But I won’t get in the way of-”

Only he could make her want to smack him and hug him at the same time. “There’s nothing to get in the way of, Obi. There’s just friendship there, and right now even that’s a little dodgy.”

Obi looked dazed again. “Oh.”

She smiled at him, adrenaline making her lips quivered. He brushed his hands against the outside of her arms and she melted against him.

The song had long since stopped, and they stood in silence for a long time.

“Shirayuki.” Obi began, and as much as Shirayuki liked his nickname for her, she definitely would like hearing her full name from him more often, especially when his voice held that husky tone.

She looked up and met his gaze, which was full of intent. He lowered his head to hers, slowly enough that she could pull back or pull away if she wanted.

She didn’t want to.

Instead, she lifted her head so that her lips met his.

[obiyuki-beebs]

the less we say: one

read here on ao3

Obiyuki Trope Madness 2021 @snowwhite-andtheknight

Almost Kiss

Words: 1238

part 1 / part 2

______________________________

They had been back in Lilias for half a day when the letters came in, confirming the Northern lords’ approval to plant Phostryias. The pharmacy bustled with commotion as the news spread. Year’s worth of work and research finally coming to fruition would undoubtedly lead to a celebration. 

Obi, Shirayuki, and Ryuu watched the cacophony grow, sitting together in the central pharmacy with the others. Yuzuri had only narrowly been prevented from uncorking mead with the promise from Shidan that they could have a party that evening. 

Obi turned to look at the two of them, eyes crinkling with his smile.

“Well, well. Mission accomplished, wouldn’t you say? You two have worked hard for this.”

“Not alone,” Shirayuki laughed, smiling back at him, “You included, Obi. None of this would have been possible without you.”

“Oh, stop, you’ll make me blush.”

“You? Blush?”

“It’s been known to happen,” Obi replied matter-of-factly, legs kicking out in glee before he hopped to his feet. 

Ryuu, having watched the exchange in silence, spoke up. “Obi doesn’t really blush. He just makes a certain face in situations where other people blush.” He paused and nodded his head. “Yes, that face.”

Shirayuki laughed out loud at the wide-eyed expression that Obi tried to hide with his forearm.

“I’ve been found out,” Obi relented, smiling sideways at them as he recovered, quickly snatching up a cork that an unknown faction of early revelers had dislodged. 

“I’m going to write a letter to the Chief. She may know already, but I want to tell her myself.”

“That’s a great idea, Ryuu. Send her my regards,” Shirayuki said.

Ryuu left the room, gangly limbs carrying him away as Yuzuri began handing out cups of mead.

“Speaking of letters,” Obi said upon finishing his drink, “We should write to the Master. He’ll be happy to hear about this. Maybe he’ll finally be able to ask you about a certain special something.” Obi winked. Shirayuki’s eyes followed the twitch of his lip as he said it.

She hummed, also setting down her cup and waving off Izuru before it could be filled again. 

“Obi, I’ll catch up with you around dinner,” she muttered, looking distracted. “I’m going out for a walk.”

Obi blinked. “Care for some company?”

She looked up at him, lips parted slightly.

“Not today,” she smiled, “Don’t worry. I’m not going far.”

“As you say, Miss.”

____________________________________

On the bank of the overlook outside of Lilias, Shirayuki knelt and pressed the fresh dirt in front of her with soft hands. Thick mid-summer leaves rattled overhead as the wind passed through them. 

She sat there, staring at the soil-stained whorls of her fingertips as the afternoon sped by; the mountains in the distance glowed, and the answers she searched for danced just out of reach. 

____________________________________

The months passed quickly, and the researchers involved with the Phostryias plant were kept especially busy organizing oversight and propagation. 

Obi grew accustomed to scraping dirt from underneath his fingernails after each long day of helping Shirayuki transplant seedlings. Ryuu spent his mornings with ink and parchment after spending half the night observing the vines that grew steadily on the road to Lilias. 

The second group in Oriold reported similar progress and local interest, and the issue with the invasive green buprestid was resolved when Suzu suggested netting. Yuzuri watched Obi smile almost fondly at the iridescent beetle before trapping it in a jar with the countless others.

And so it went.

____________________________________

The invitation from Wilant came as the leaves turned, dry and vibrant against the evergreens scattered across the north. Shirayuki stared at the signature of the letter from Zen, noting the even handwriting of Mistuhide before setting it down with a sigh. Outside her window, the first snow began to fall.

____________________________________

The dinner at the castle was uneventful. They spoke to familiar nobles and knights, skirting around the parquet with crystal glasses of wine. 

“I received a note from Mister,” Obi spoke from somewhere behind her elbow, “They won’t be able to join us this evening. But tomorrow, before we leave, there should be time.”

“Mmm,” Shirayuki hummed in reply, cheeks colored by drink.

____________________________________

“I’ve decided,” Zen said, facing the window and the early morning light, “I want to ask her before you leave today. Mind helping me out…Obi?”

“Anything for the Master,” Obi replied, eyes dim as they bored into the prince's back.

____________________________________

The courtyard was cold, and the ever-present northern wind cut through even the thick wool of her shawl. Shirayuki stood alone. To the unacquainted observer, she was merely taking in the morning light that filtered in through the clouds. Few would notice the tension in the set of her lips, strung out by the question she wanted to ask as it poised there for so many months. She had decided.

She started at the soft crunch of snow behind her, whirling to greet Obi with a gentle but eager smile on her face.

“Obi!” she called, starting forward before he could slip away.

“Ah, Miss,” he says, forcefully pressing into the center of his chest like he can force the tightness that lives there to evacuate, “I think Master will be looking out for you soon.”

She didn’t respond. Tucked into a small alcove,  Obi wished to himself that he could look into her eyes like this for a little longer.

“I’ll go get him then-” he began, but she had already reached out and taken his hand, palms tight through their gloves, and all he could see was the wind-whipped skin of her face.

“Don’t,” she implored, eyes searching his.

She was close; the red of her hair so, so dark, wisps pulled by the wind, and the light from the snow around them reflected softly on her pale skin. Obi inhaled sharply, wondering.

“Miss?”

“Obi,” she breathes, and he can only just hear the tremor in her voice, “Would you call me by my name?”

Their breath misted, caught in the stillness that made up the few inches now between them. 

His hand gripped hers tightly, the other moving on its own, and he swallowed when he realized he had already brushed the hair away from her temple, gloved fingers grazing the skin of her cheek.

When did she get so close?

He almost laughs, tilting his head nearer like he’s done this before.

“Shirayuki,” Obi whispers, lips parting softly around her name.

Somehow this is familiar; Obi’s amber and Shirayuki’s clear, seafoam green eyes locked in a shared silence that holds them hostage. 

Eyelids fluttering, she inhaled slowly, the musk of his breath she had only caught hints of before, and without realizing, she leans into him and-

“Shirayuki!”

Zen rounded the corner with a skip in his step, eyes bright. 

“Zen,” she stuttered out, “You’re coming to see us off?”

“Ah, actually, there was something I wanted to ask you while we’re alone.”

“Right now? Can’t it-”

She turned, but Obi was already gone. 

“It’s-um... it’s something important.”

Their eyes met as a cold wind swelled past her.

“What is it, Zen?”

After a moment, he spoke. “I know we haven’t discussed this in a long time. My feelings haven’t changed. I wanted to know...if I asked you to marry me, to stand at my side as my wife,” he smiled, “What would you say?”

The snow started falling then. Shirayuki faced him with her back straight.

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xxxi. Beauty and Her Beast - REWRITE

@the-pompous-potato  awww, so glad to hear that you love all of it! It’s like reading through the chapter with you, hearing all the moments that caught your eye. Yeah, I really wanted to bring Mitsuhide back into this arc - he hasn’t been mentioned lately, but he is missed.

@bubblesthemonsterartist  XD these are factors that were not taken into consideration but the advice is undeniably sound!

<<Previous || first arc || second arc || AO3 || Next>>

A/N: Dear readers, you’ve been both patient and supportive. Please consider this both an apology and a thank you: the wedding arc just wasn’t coming together. I had fought my way to the climax only to discover that the key moment fell flat. There was no way to recover - it had all started off on the wrong foot. So I scrapped everything starting with Ryuu’s chapter and started afresh. I will edit the AO3 chapters for the sake of preserving comments, etc, but may post the original version as an attached fic if you’re interested in seeing how it lurched to the finish.

The good news is, the entire arc is now written, so you can expect more regular updates for the next little while!

...

Ryuu had left the castle in spring, and now it was autumn.

The plants had changed seasons in his absence - some had gone to seed, others flowered, and still others were breaking the soil. He had the curious sensation of life going on without him, of decisions made and friends lost, all while he was away, out of sight.

...

Some things hadn’t changed: stone moves only slowly; it shrinks as the wind carries particles of it away once the sun has baked it hard and crumbly, layer and layer, altering its shape not with a hammer and chisel but fine trickles of dust.

Stone moves so slowly that it is invisible; in a human’s lifetime, he will see only one shape. Even though it alters, his eye alters with it; he perceives nothing. 

In that way, Ryuu had carried the walls of Wistal with him, in his mind’s eye, and erected them anew on his return.

The ceiling rested overhead; the walls held the room together; Garrack worked at her desk; Yatsufusa greeted them every morning.

Some things hadn’t changed.

...

Some changes he had expected: the leaves turning to gold, painting the trees’ faces a new color with their reflected light. 

Clustered around the outskirts of the castle and extending deep into the countryside, the trees hung over everything in their new agedness, come too soon for Ryuu. 

The trees in the port town, warmed by the nearby water, had not finished turning; their transformation was not yet complete but now that he was home, he found all the trees here different - wearing new faces, losing their green luster in preparation for winter, overnight and prematurely.

So it seemed to him, returned to find that mourning had set in like an early autumn in Wistal. 

No one spoke of it anymore, as they might have when the leaves first shed the color of life; now it went unacknowledged and yet omnipresent in the unfamiliar shadows the change had cast over them all.

...

These changes - known but unseen, or anticipated but unwelcome - would have been more than enough for Ryuu.

His acute sensitivity to the currents of nature, was matched only by his awareness of the energies of the people around him - except that nature he had learned to explain, to give a precise account of, while people continued to speak in languages largely foreign to his ear, and to behave in patterns that he could no more explain than he could wish them away.

He felt their fluctuations through an instinct too deep for words - which meant that he could seek no help for the confusion it caused him, any more than he could give voice to the questions he wished answered.

How could he receive answers when he could not articulate the questions?

Unable to decode, decipher, or analyze with the aid of his mind, Ryuu instead absorbed the turmoil he sensed, holding it inside himself like a human capacitor, until the charge diffused.

...

This took time - but time was what no one could give him, even if they had understood how badly he needed it.

Change - precipitous and shattering as a lightning bolt - had struck in his absence, permanently altered the sphere of his existence, and left him hopelessly behind in recognizing and tracking its movements.

It had come and gone before he knew anything of it. Now he was left to make sense of what remained in its wake.

...

It was not that Ryuu was unhappy that Shirayuki and Obi would marry. It would not cross his mind to approve or disapprove of their decisions. 

He did not wonder, why so soon? He did not ask, was it proper? He did not compare Obi to Zen or wonder at Shirayuki’s change of heart, at Obi’s sudden revelation of passion.

He did not think the worse of them for it.

He would have preferred not to think of it at all.

...

He didn’t have the tools to approach it; he withdrew in confusion and fear from what had once given him delight and fed his heart and his mind with warmth and curiosity.

Shirayuki had been a source of joy to him - as startling as the red of his favorite flower at first, then comforting in her quiet consistency. Day after day, she had worked beside him, gentle and understanding, keen and quick in her thinking, yet soft as petals in her presence.

She had been transplanted too soon, trading away her uniform out of season for another dress, and he had missed her -  but now she was something else entirely, inexplicable.

He had thought he knew her; now she felt further from him than ever, slipping away when he wasn’t looking, and he couldn’t bear to look.

...

Then there was Obi: like the too-tall branches of a tree, Obi had been out of sight, then out of reach - stretching overhead, impressive and other, to the point of intimidating Ryuu with his strength and presence. 

He and Obi belonged to different worlds, though they might occupy the same space: Ryuu grounded, Obi somewhere above - skyward, tending free and waving in the mind. Obi was challenging and supple yet also somehow vulnerable when bent to the point of breaking.

It wasn’t until Ryuu had risked enough to test his weight against Obi that he realized this laughing stranger could support him, bear him up, lift him to new heights unimagined, out of his comfortable places and into the clouds - not as blank and terrifying a place as Ryuu had imagined but full of wind and sun and new life.

...

He hadn’t looked for either of them to break the soil in his life, and now he didn’t want them to leave. 

Be perennials, he wanted to beg them, and come again after this season of death and destruction and dormancy.

He knew, nonetheless, that some flowers only bloom once in a lifetime. He knew, but at the same time could not know it, could only wish it untrue in the very admission of it.

The knowledge was too awful for words, especially now with the charge of change built up so high in Ryuu that language failed him and left only a mute unrest.

...

It was in this state that Obi found him.

Obi was a frothing mix of anticipation and impatience; he was on a mission to conscript witnesses for the ceremony.

Shirayuki said it ought properly to be his blood brother; Obi wouldn’t know where to find such a man even if he existed, so then he had thought of Little Ryuu.

...

He thought almost guiltily of Ryuu because Obi had felt his silence since the announcement and felt it impenetrable. 

No matter how much Obi filled that silence with his own voice, the words ran away, like drops of rain over a parched earth that would not drink. 

Then when Shirayuki spoke of brothers, Obi had thought of Ryuu.

...

Obi hoped this gesture, this invitation, would speak for him and say more than his words could when he said the miss would be very pleased if Ryuu would stand for them at the wedding.

Really he was saying, Would you be my brother?

Brothers, as far as Obi could understand them, were forever.

...

Obi hoped for a yes, or at least a smile, but then Ryuu wasn’t a talker.

He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no.

He had always been quiet, and so Obi had to content himself with silence.

[purgatoryandme]

Obiyuki thoughts since nobody will ask me and I am BURSTING with them, but I had an idea ages ago that needs to be revisited! Obi makes romantic overtures towards Shirayuki for Zen as a way of dealing with his own feelings. He regularly will tell Shirayuki that Zen must miss her or encourages them to have a date before stepping off to the side. It seems like, after he’s done this several times, Zen has begun to rely on Obi as some kind of barometer of Shirayuki’s romantic needs. Zen is an awkward person in a lot of respects, so this makes perfect sense, especially as he likes to avoid looking awkward whenever he gets the chance and he’s used to leaning on other people to aid him in even his personal relationships as a prince.  Anyway, as a vehicle for Zen’s romantic feelings, Obi is free to express his own. And boy oh boy does he ever have a LOT of them. I can easily see Obi beginning to slip more and more naturally into his role, going from trying to get Zen to express his own sentiments, to feeding every little thing Obi himself loves about Shirayuki into Zen’s ears. But as they begin to be separated more often than not, he struggles with the words crowing behind his teeth. Still, Obi’s restraint is legendary, and he manages to choke them back except for a few occasions where his Miss has struck him dumb. But then Zen begins to deviate a little from Obi’s script. Phrases things in a way that isn’t quite as Obi intended. And suddenly the words are harder to hold back - especially since Shirayuki doesn’t seem to be entirely ok with the change.  So Obi lets his own words slip through his own lips a little more often, still framed as things Master must think or asked him to relay. And she smiles so beautifully every time. Words that caress her intelligent mind, her philosophical thoughts, her relentless kindness, her ever-beating heart, her clumsy obsessive interests, the laughter she carries around herself like a cloak, the defiance in the shade of her unbound hair - she loves them. And he CAN’T STOP saying them when she loves them.  They don’t sound as right in Zen’s mouth as they do in his. And Obi hates himself for that, even as he wants to roll in it like a cat in a sunny patch of grass. “Tell her how she makes your fingers tremble, your highness.”  “Why would they tremble? Are you making fun of me, Obi? Shirayuki doesn’t make me feel nervous - she calms me like nothing else does.”  “Because they ache to be closer to hers, Master. Because they are trying to flee your body for hers.”  (Obi hates himself for sharing this, for giving it away, for it coming to his lips so easily in the first place because this is his first thought of her. His bare traitorous fingers actually shake with the desire until he folds gloves over the skin) Obi tries to backpedal. To detach himself from this dangerous game he’s started playing. But his Miss doesn’t seem as happy as usual, and so Obi doubles down, and accidentally uses “I” when providing Zen with lines to use. Accidentally brings up sentiments that he realizes Zen can’t echo, because he doesn’t think of himself the way Obi does (an empty vessel, at times. A sinner, mostly. Something shadowed and thin and hungry being fed morsels by something that should know better. Something lesser, and yet, in her presence...equal. Almost equal. Made equal by his willingness to settle at her feet, by her willingness to pull him upright). And then Zen, carrying one of Obi’s sentiments, fails to execute it at all because it requires him to place himself beneath her even for a moment. And she notices. She notices and finds herself lost. And Obi finds her that way, too, and kneels on the steps below her, accidentally (not so accidentally) making the realization easy as breathing.  (Zen sees her as late summer, leaves turning colour, new meetings and beginnings and endings - he sees her as change and the warm weather that draws them together) (But she remembers him saying her eyes sparkle like the snow. And she knows-)  (Only Obi thinks of her in the frame of winter. Because winter, fast approaching, is when he’s alone with her - winter is when she’s most herself, when the gawking onlookers are at her fewest and she stands in Lyrias’ libraries, rests in his bed smelling of mint and bitter chamomile-)  After that, Obi can’t stem the tide. His thoughts slide free and he can’t bring himself to pull them back so he escapes instead. But she finds him, just like always, her stubborn chin tilted at an angle that spells out “tell me”. There’s an ever growing light of intelligence - of realization - in her eyes that scares (thrills) him.  “I begin to suspect you have feelings, Obi.”  “Feelings, Miss? I am nothing but feelings when you are near me.” 

[another-miracle]

Under 1000 Words

Fic by @claudeng80​ [Rating: No Rating]

For how short it is, you’d be surprised how much pain it invokes, gosh. The sadder single Dad!Obi AU, but with so much love for Shirayuki still!

A Fic That Got You Invested in Fandom

An Economy of Suffering by @sabraeal​, @bubblesthemonsterartist​, and me! [Rating: T]

I remember never intending to contribute / participate in this fandom at the early stages, but I stumbled upon the then-series (now first 2 chapters of this fic) for this idea, and I was like, omg I’m so gonna write an angsty Obi continuation of this. It was only after I’d posted it that I realized I just kick-slammed the door into the playground of the biggest writers in the fandom??? HAHA Jen and Joanna graciously let me play though, and in the end, it is the fic it is today. 

Made You Laugh Out Loud

Dessert & Reward by @sabraeal​ [Rating: T]

I L I VE for Obi being totally out of his element and being pushed around by his butler and his housekeeping staff. It’s absolutely adorable. And I giggle-snorted at how completely intimidated by Kiki he is, and how Yori finally could gain the upper-hand with Kiki around. Love it! (also there’s lots of pining and omg it’s the best

Action-packed Fight Scene

Love and Other Monstrosities by @vivianvivi1​ [Rating: T]

Referring to Chapter 2 of this fic, and not exactly a fight scene, but definitely action-packed as the gang fight for the survival of Obi’s sanity. I remember bookmarking this fic early on when it was still a one-shot (to my delight, the author added a first chapter!). The angst hurts so good and my heart just pulls for Obi and Shirayuki in this fic.

Canon Divergent

I am become death by @bubblesthemonsterartist​ [Rating: M]

Oooohhhh boy. Absolute poetry. I completely fell in love with this fic when it came out. I remember it being such a foreign way of narrating that was so very intriguing - that made me both uncomfortable yet glued to the words. I remember also being delighted that a second chapter was added! Amazing amazing work.

Steamiest Kiss

Rarely Pure and Never Simple by @sabraeal​ [Rating: E]

This is probably the 1000th time this fic is gonna get recc-ed under this category *side-eyes Jen* but the category speaks for itself!! Other than that, the continuation is absolutely adorable as Shirayuki continues to explore her sexuality as well as her future alongside Obi, who is strung along like a lovesick puppy (despite having admittedly more experience than she does). Beautiful.

Wept Real Tears

Ever After by @bubblesthemonsterartist​ [Rating: E]

What’s more heartbreaking than everything you’ve been working for in canon to fall apart post-canon? Especially at the cost of your beloved friendships. Astounding AU-building of what happens when you trap a brilliant mind in a role not meant for her. Also, I will never not cry at the idea of Obi falling out of the habit of ‘returning home’ then realizing he has home to return to with Shirayuki.

Favourite Fan-made OC

Bob & Gayle from Wide Florida Bay by @sabraeal​ [Rating: E]

 Look. I know nothing about American culture - let alone idk Southern(?) American culture. But seeing Obi being parented by these two is crazy and something I never knew I needed. They’re absolutely adorable (and *spoilers!* I love that it’s while meeting them that Shirayuki realizes she loves Obi) Adorable!

First AnS fic you read

If You Want Him, You’re Going to Have to Fight Me by @bubblesthemonsterartist​ [Rating: G]

I can’t be 100% sure this was my first AnS fic (it could have been something of Jen’s as well), but this was definitely one that left the biggest impression on me early on. I’m such a sucker for Hurt/Comfort fics and there’s just something about a person finding comfort and safety in the arms of another, and being able to fall asleep from that. Absolutely lovely. 

Favourite Minor Character

Haki from Seven Suitors for Shirayuki by @sabraeal​

Man, I never thought that I would love a character who is barely shown in the manga (maybe like, 5 panels at most?) Loved her snark and the unexpected camaraderie she found with Obi. I loved how Jen has written her to not only support the main pairing, but to really be a source of comfort and a force of sorts to help them see not just the good in each other, but in themselves. Solid character creation. So good.

WIP

Saint Elmo’s Fire by @infinitelystrangemachinex​

Wow, this fic just broke my heart. Though sad that it’s a WIP, but it also has a bittersweet sense of completion to it. Obi’s POV is truly heartbreaking and to see him try so hard to help his Miss survive, when in the end, she was doing the same for him at her own expense - ugh *chef’s kiss* Absolutely absolutely breathtaking.

Canon Compliant

Fugue in Three by @infinitelystrangemachinex​

This fic must have been (as it should) recommended a hundred times over at this point because it’s SO. DAMN. GOOD. Gosh. The feels you get from this fic. I remember describing it to the author once as “tearing skin from bone” - it just gets beneath your skin and into your flesh, and you definitely feel like a different person after reading it. One of the pillars of the AnS fic archive imo. A must-read.

Oneshot

Fussing with Firedrakes by @leewritingrecs​

This is buried in one of her one-shot series, and it is indeed a treasure to be found! (do read her other fics too, they are gold) A very cute AU, with an interesting twist. Kiki and Obi as dragons!!! What could be better! Very cute.

AU you took a chance on (and loved)

Shift by @xaphrin​

A modern AU - much like Jen’s WFB - I never liked modern AUs until I joined the AnS fandom. It never seemed like people could do it right in other fandoms, but gosh darn it this fandom has an absolute talent for it. Shift in particular is really cute and lovely, with angst sprinkled here and there. It isn’t complete from what I remember, but still lovely to read through. (hi xaph!)

Favourite trope

A Dress for Shirayuki by @traditional-with-a-twist

So a super super guilty pleasure of mine is reading when dudes are completely awe-struck by their love interests in beautiful dresses / an outfit they don’t usually wear (or their own clothes idk; i just like it when they’re awe-struck). Gosh this fic. I remember reading it and just sitting there staring into space thinking about what I’ve done to deserve to read this. I love it, and it comes with a underlying layer of angst too which is - ugh, perfect. So so good.

[nicotinemaiden]

Just found Heaven

I don't really care where I go when I die 'Cause I just found heaven

You can tell the devil that's he's wasting his time 'Cause I just found heaven

Sins washed away, dark turns to light If your body is a temple, take me inside

I feel no pain, pleasures of mine If you give me a taste of eternal life

[Daughtry]

Read on AO3  → 

The second one, a promise.

It had been a couple of days since Shirayuki saw Obi for the last time, peacefully sleeping next to her after the night they shared together. That day, when she finally dragged herself out of bed - tired of the nightmares that told her she would never see him again - she buried herself in her work and didn't talk to anyone more than what was necessary. If she could she would only nod and keep working. It was the only way she could stop thinking.

The next day even the office they assigned to them during their stay seemed too quiet, too calm without him reading small excerpts of the books - interesting facts that may be useful someday Miss, he would say. Some were more useful than others and, of course, sometimes he read things only for her to blush profoundly and throw something at him - there really are things you shouldn't read out loud Obi, she would answer after that, an unhidden smile on her face hearing his laugh. She missed him too much for her own good.

The third day she was growing impatient. So much so she decided to ask Ryuu if he'd seen him. He looked at her confused and surprised, as if she just asked an obvious question, his eyes picking at her from behind the book he was reading today.

"Obi is on a reconnaissance mission on the Bergatt territory to prepare for the soiree of masked knights."

She grunted loudly. How did she forget about that? She was busy preparing the medicine for that same event, relying on trial and error a lot more than she intended.

"I don't think it will be too long until he's back, if that's any help."

Ryuu added, arching one eyebrow, clearly wondering what was wrong with her lately.

She muttered a low yes, of course, thank you before returning to her desk. The young boy kept staring at her for a moment until he returned to his studies, writing in a patch of paper on his own desk. That was - maybe, probably - a good idea. If she could not talk to Obi maybe it was time she talked to the person she less wanted to at the moment: The second prince of Clarines.

She grabbed a piece of paper from the first drawer and tipped her quill on the ink. Good, that was the easy part. She breathed before starting, her thoughts unclear as to what she wanted to write in the first place.

Dear Zen, - she started, feeling confident only in those two words - I know we just saw each other not so long ago - if she was being honest with herself, it had been like two weeks - but I need to see you as soon as…

She stopped herself, crossing out the last words. They sounded… desperate. And a lot more romantic than she needed it to be. At least that was what her head told her. She continued on the same paper, deciding it was best to make a draft and then cleaning it when her thoughts were sorted.

I have to see you, whenever you can, only if you have time, there's no rush.

She crossed out that line too. She was in a hurry. She needed to tell him as soon as possible. She couldn't keep feeling like this and he deserved to know. Yet at the same time she felt she had no right to say anything before talking to Obi.

Shirayuki used the quill to scratch her chin, thinking.

"How would you tell someone you have to talk to them and it's not good news?"

She asked to the air, feeling hopeless. She was always good at talking her mind… in person. It was a lot more difficult doing so via letter.

It took a moment for Ryuu to realize he was the only one who could answer and he seemed startled by the question.

"I-I don't think I'm the best person to ask about relationships with people."

He watched her sulk a bit in her chair, her eyes fixing on the paper. He wanted to ask what was happening, what were those bad news, but he also knew she would tell him when she was ready. He didn't want to pry in something that didn't concern him.

So he closed his book on the table, whipping with his hands little smudges of dust from the corners.

"But… I'll try to be honest."

His voice caught her attention again, her eyes now studying him.

"I'll say there's something important that I have to say and that I would prefer to do so in person. If the person you're writing to cares at least a little about you, they will understand."

She smiled, her ideas clearer in her head.

"Thank you so much Ryuu. I knew you could help me."

He blushed, as always, before opening his book again and returning to it.

Dear Zen, I'm sorry to bother you as I'm aware you are busy. You know I wouldn't unless I had a good reason to do it. And I do. I need to talk to you, in person. We need to talk. And it's not something I could write or you would already know what's troubling me. I hope we can talk soon and I wish for our reunion to be one as friends, as it has always been. Shirayuki.

Reading it for the tenth time, she felt confident. She had been able to write it neutral, kind of urgent and important. Just the right amount. She pushed it to the envelope and sealed it before leaving her office to send it. That little letter was the first step on clearing the mess she forged for herself. Soon, it will all be different, be it a bad different or a good different. In all honesty, it already was.

She turned a corner of the hall just to come face to face with Hisame and she almost hissed at him, wanting to run far away from him. She didn't hate him, didn't even blame him anymore for what happened, but that didn't mean she was fine with having a conversation with him at that exact moment.

"Miss Shirayuki. Always a pleasure to see you."

Can't say the same, she thought, pushing the rude words away from her throat.

"H-Hisame, good evening. I wasn't aware you were still here."

He brushed her words with a hand, shaking his head.

"I just arrived a couple hours ago. Just some business to take care of."

She nodded, hoping it wasn't as visible as she felt it the fact that she wanted to bolt from him.

"That remembers me… Where is your shadow today? Haven't seen him."

There was a glint in his eyes that told her he was asking for more than that, but she answered only to his words.

"He's on a mission, won't be around for a couple days. If you have something to say to him you could rely your message to me and I'll make sure he hears it the moment he returns. If you trust me with such things, of course."

She smiled, just a facade to hide her jitters.

"Oh, I would, of course. But that's not it. I was just curious as to if he was the one who left that mark on your neck. I have a bet to win, after all."

With those small words, she panicked. Her hand moved to her neck without warning, searching for it even when she knew she couldn't feel that kind of mark just with her touch. Had it been there the whole time? Did the whole mansion know what she had done? She hadn't felt it when he'd done it. Why would he leave something like that if this was supposed to be a secret? She hadn't looked at a mirror in a while more than some passing glances, she hadn't felt the need to. Now she regretted it. Her mind kept racing, wondering why Ryuu hadn't said anything to her about it, and forgot she was supposed to be talking. Clearly Hisame saw the sudden display of nerves and the whiteness of her face because he laughed softly in front of her.

"Don't you worry, young miss."

He emphasised her nickname, the one Obi had made already clear it was reserved for him, and it made her angry, knowing it wasn't him who used it.

"You have absolutely nothing in your neck. I just wanted to see if something happened."

He came closer to her, crouching a bit to bring his eyes to her eye level.

"And the amusing thing is: It did."

He laughed a bit more.

"I didn't think he'd have the guts. Congratulations."

"I'm not here to amuse you, Lord Hisame. So if you'll excuse me."

She backed away a step, hoping for him to shut up and let her pass. She has had enough and felt stupid for letting herself be tricked like this. But there was no point telling him it wasn't true. She knew her reaction told him everything he needed to know.

He studied her for a moment longer before straightening himself and moving slowly to the side. She started walking and stopped herself after hearing his voice again behind her.

"I wasn't joking, I honestly congratulate you. I've seen the look on your eyes when you look at each other. This… fake relationship thing you had going on wasn't as fake as you two pretended to believe. I'm just relieved to see you being honest with each other."

She smiled subtly, looking at him over her shoulder, and continued walking on.

Honest. That was the word that failed her. She hadn't been completely honest. She was just now starting to be. But she made herself a promise that she would be. She would tell him everything once he was with her again and she would hope that, after knowing everything she knew, he would stay with her. As a friend, at least.

Before returning to her room she sent the letter she worked so hard to put together, not feeling any better than before doing it.

The next day started worse than any other. The nightmares were unrelenting and the pain in her chest seemed to have expanded to her head, her arms, her legs… She awoke before dawn feeling utterly sick yet being unable to return to bed. Lightning a candle next to the vanity she sat there, doing nothing, for a long time. Once the fog of her mind cleared and her brain accepted that nightmares were just that - nightmares - she picked up her brush and tried to tame her wild hair. She had to at least give the impression of being a normal person today. And she was so close to finishing the medicine she was sure today was the day. She had to give it her all.

When she arrived at the office she was alone. It was too early for Ryuu, or too late. More than once had she arrived at the pharmacy just in time to wish him a good sleep after a sleepless night of work. In any case, first things first: She needed a painkiller remedy. Shirayuki looked at the cupboards and stands, inspecting them. She picked up three petals of bromelain - which should have provided a small relief - before she found a jar of turmeric and decided that mixing the two would prove more effective. She just needed to reach it. It was a common ingredient, why in the world would it be in the tallest rack she had no idea. It was possible that she mistook it for another spice but that color was characteristic and the other she knew were similar were also uncommon. Or used in the kitchen instead of a pharmacy. She decided it was worthless trying to explain when everything here was sorted in a manner she couldn't comprehend. She missed the order of her pharmacy.

She moved the ladder under it without much effort, grateful for its lightness. One, two, three… and four steps took her to reach the jar. Or would have if she hadn't slipped at the last one, freeing the ladder from her hands before it could fall with her. She was ready to hit the ground any moment but, just like every other time she fell since she first left Tanbarun, her fall was stopped by strong arms keeping her steady for a moment before releasing her on her feet. She could still feel the burning of her skin - or his - moments later, crashing with the cold she had been feeling these last days.

"I can't leave you alone and trust you wouldn't hurt yourself even for a moment, can I?"

He sighed but she could hear the playful notes on his voice even louder than the pumping of her heart, so that was something. He was there, now in front of her, a half smile on his lips and dark marks under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept at all since his departure. Seeing him made her forget completely the reason as to why was she reaching for the jar. The pain, the ache, completely evaporated.

"What a shame. It seems you shouldn't leave me alone at all in case this happens."

She panicked just after hearing herself and tried to hide it pointing to the stairs, making a move to step on it again. Just an excuse at this point - she had exactly the painkiller she needed, right in front of her. He stopped her with a hand on her back and, with a swift movement and just one step on the ladder he pointed at the jar until she nodded and he snatched it out of the shelf.

"How's the medicine coming?"

He asked casually, leaving the jar on the desk and ignoring completely her last attempt at flirting.

"Good."

She thought for a moment, still looking at him, admiring him.

"I mean, it's not ready yet, but almost. I've had… trouble, concentrating, that's it."

He nodded and they both looked away, an awkward silence between them. She had so much to say she lost the words to say them. Looking at him like that, his eyes gleaming with the red of dawn, his hand playing nervously with his hair, his lips a thin line - void of the playfulness that played in them before… She just needed to kiss him. She wasn't sure if that was a normal thought on their situation but she restrained herself after realizing she was moving closer to him. Obi sat on top of the desk, facing the window but looking at her again. She could feel he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how.

"Miss, I- / Obi, I -"

They spoke at the same time and paused at the same time, causing a giggle from her. At least they broke the ice. She decided, as much as she wanted to know what he would say, she needed to speak first.

"I'm sorry Obi. For last time. I should have spoken to you… before anything happened."

She looked away. What they did was natural yet she didn't have the confidence to talk about it as if it was nothing. Not when it happened between them .

"No Miss. I should be the one apologizing. Nothing should have happened. I'm sorry I didn't stop it when I had the chance."

Was he… regretting it? She needed to know. Preferably before pouring her heart at him just to have it drained.

"Do you regret it Obi? That night… Would you like to go back to make things differently, if you could?"

Part of her was afraid of the answer while another was growing annoyed and angrier. This was not exactly how she expected this encounter to go.

"Of course I would. Of course I regret it. How could I not?"

He looked at her as if expecting understanding, but she was just angry and hurt. Most of it directed at herself. It was her fault he regretted it, it was her fault he was looking at her with such hurt on his eyes.

"You heard me the next morning, did you not?"

He nodded and looked away as if embarrassed to admit it.

"I was just… figuring out my entire life."

She allowed herself a small smile knowing she had already figured it out.

“I know how it must have seemed to you, that’s why I needed to talk to you. I don’t…”

She breathed for a minute. This was her moment. She needed to be clear, to say everything that was on her mind once and for all. And so, returning her eyes to his, she started talking faster than she could think, almost not breathing.

“I don’t regret it. I don’t think I ever will. It wasn’t just some crazy night of alcohol and hormones. Well, mostly it was, because that’s the way our body works, but that wasn’t all. I wouldn’t have done it with anyone else. And I mean anyone. I thought it was a mistake. Yes, the next morning that was the first thing I thought. But not because of you! It was a mistake because of the situation. I should have realized things first and done later, not the other way around. But, again, I was so blind I think it had to be this way.”

She was pacing nervously, moving her hands just to have something to do with them, talking more to herself than to him at this point. And she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to. She was drowned in all the thoughts that crossed her mind lately.

“I feel horrible lying to Zen. I ain’t even lying because I hadn’t been able to talk to him yet. But I already felt this way before, the last time he kissed me when I thought I didn’t really want to. I just needed it to be over. I just let him kiss me because it was safe, it was what I’ve known for years. And I was so afraid when my heart stood at the same pace while I was with him. I was calm yet nervous. I should have known then as I know now. But I didn’t. And now I feel I’ve been lying to every last person in my life, myself included. I had a path I was sure to follow, everything just to be at his side, and now I’m not even sur-”

She stopped suddenly when she felt his arms around her, burning away every word left on her throat.

“Breathe, Miss. I almost couldn’t catch half the things you wanted to say.”

And she did. She closed her eyes for a moment, hugging him back, and buried herself in his smell. Everytime she was like this she felt lost in a forest at night, a warm bonfire at her side, plants and flowers surrounding her. It was the safest place in the world, his arms. She had thought about it before but never had she seen it so clearly.

“This is exactly what I was trying to say.”

She looked up to his face, a smile wide on hers.

“Usually it’s shorter to say ‘I need a hug’”

And she hit him then, punching his arm with all the strength she could muster. But he saw something in her eyes, in her smile, because as soon as she lowered her hand he brought her closer again and kissed her. Without so much as another word. It was slow and warm and she was kissing him back before even giving the order to her body. It wasn’t the first time they kissed but it felt like it. It was the first time she could do so knowing full well that it was what she wanted, what they wanted. And this time - contrary to the night they spent together - it was him who kissed her. He didn’t run away, he didn’t put a wall between them, he wasn’t telling her it was a stupid decision. No. He was kissing her and she… she was crying. Because she hadn’t felt so right in all her life. It was as if all of her - really - stupid decisions brought her to this moment. To the moment in her life when everything clicked. All the times she had to endure the touches and sinful words of the drunkards in her grandparents bar, all the unwanted attention on the streets, at her own home. All the times she thought she was weird, an exotic gem, something - not someone - to decorate the room with. You don’t need to hate it, it’s part of you, but it’s not you. You’re so much more. He was the first one to encourage her to show it, not hide it. He always wanted her to be herself - not more calm, not more smiling, not more reserved. If she jumped out a tower he would jump with her, not wait to tell her she was being reckless. She paused for a moment, her entire being, the kiss, her thoughts.

“I love you, Obi. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize. And I’m sorry I made you think you were the problem when I was.”

It was the first time she actually saw him trip over the desk, catching himself in time to sit gracefully on top of it. She smiled, biting her lower lip. It wasn’t a bad shock, she could tell because he was smiling even wider than her, even when he didn't seem to notice. If she was going to keep getting reactions like that or like their kiss, she should keep talking. But he didn’t give her time to.

“Mis-”

He interrupted himself immediately, changing his wording.

“Shirayuki, you were never the problem. I was… really scared that morning too. I was absolutely sure you were going to, I don’t know, tell me that it was the worst decision of your life and that you never wanted to even look at me again. I was terrified thinking that maybe you were right and I had broken our friendship forever. And, of course, everything went south when I heard you, crying.”

Even knowing it wasn’t exactly that what caused her crying it still pained him. She could see it in the golden orbs that fixed on her.

“I had to do this mission but I was ready to leave. I wanted to talk to you, to apologize and pack my things afterwards. Instead, the first thing you say to me today? Hey maybe you shouldn’t leave anymore. How- What- You know how confusing it is coming back believing it will be the last time I see you only for you to tell me that?”

And they laughed, because that was the thing they did most when they were together. Worrying about one another and laughing.

“I’m sorry for that too. I just kept having these nightmares where you would go and never come back without even hearing what I had to say. I just needed to tell you. I won’t make you stay, unless you want to.”

He picked her up easily, her legs holding her to his body and her arms up on his shoulders, and kissed her again. Maybe it was the kisses who told her or the little smiles between them. Maybe it was the bigger smiles or the way her arms got up and her upper-body followed back, laughing to the sky - or to the ceiling, to be more accurate. Or maybe it was the way his hand pressed down her back, bringing her to him again just before she heard every word she needed to hear.

“I love you Shirayuki. And, for as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here.”

She stopped her laughs and smiles and lowered herself to the ground, looking at him so seriously he seemed startled.

“Would you say that again?"

Shirayuki could swear he was blushing. He was. And she enjoyed it as much as she could for the brief moment it lasted.

"I love you. I've loved you for so long I feel I'm dreaming. I think I'm just saying these things because I'm waiting to wake up at any moment."

The feeling, that unnamed feeling in her heart, so warm, filing her chest with a strange kind of pain. One that hurt but wasn't bad. It was as if someone was gripping her heart with all its strength, so much so she was afraid it would explode. Yet at the same time she felt incomplete without that pressure. She never wanted to feel so empty again.

She brought her hand to her chest without thinking, taking in the universe that was originating inside of her. She had been afraid of many things in her life, never so much as to stop her from doing what she thought was right but she wasn't new to the feeling. Yet at that moment she was terrified. Terrified something would happen that would tear everything from her. Was it normal that, at the happiest moment of her life, all she could think about for a moment was how she feared to lose it?

And then it happened again. He touched her arm - a little pressure to remind her he was there - and smiled while lowering his hand to hers. He didn't say anything, didn't need to.

He was with her.

He was hers .

And if there was something everyone knew about them was that, while together, they could do anything - and so, so much more.

[sabraeal]

All That Remains, Chapter 8: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure [Part 5]

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2021, Day 3: Strength Upright: Compassion, Courage, Self-Control Reversed: Weakness, Doubt, Discord

Once upon a time, a troll makes a mirror.

Is that not how we started this story, so long ago? How so many start: a vile creature forges an object. Who and what change in the telling; a troll makes a mirror, a god conjures a box, knowledge grows in a garden. In the end, it is all the same: what is once contained is opened, unwitting. Or lost, foolishly, in a heart so cold and cruel that it becomes bent to another purpose entirely.

But that is merely an allegory, a fiction composed to cover the raw edges we leave when we rub against each other. For that is the truth, is it not? There is no fell creature, no capricious and omnipotent beings to blame for our misery. There is only us, carving our place in our story by smoothing pieces off another. A snow queen is not made from frost and cold but by the blades of others, slicing slivers from her flesh until only ice remains.

That is the truth we cannot bear: the only monsters we face are the ones we have made. The only poisons we drink are those human hands have brewed.

And it starts like this, always: a girl in a garden, remembering the image of a rose, and wondering, how could I have I forgotten?

“You were quiet at dinner tonight.” Shirayuki hasn’t been at court long-- or rather, in court, privy to all its secret signals and capricious undercurrents-- but she knows that this is as close to an “are you all right?” as Haki can come. If confrontation is only allowed the glint of a knife, affection is stifled to a hint of warmth, a fire made in a room one is forbidden to venture. “I hope that the meal agreed with you.”

A flash of pharmacy white flutters at the corner of her vision, frustratingly out of reach. It’s been so long since she’s been there, since she’s thought of anything but silverware and schottische; when she tries it’s like a hundred voices shouting at once, each demanding to be heard. Just like being at Lilias, heads bent over a knotty problem--

“Shirayuki.” The consort does not crouch; it’s best, Lady Mihoko often remind her, to pretend one has no anatomy beneath the waist. But Haki does perch on a cushioned stool, her brows drawn tight over the elegant line of her nose. “You are not...indisposed, I hope?”

A solid shake dispels the fog mired around her. “What? Oh, no! I only...” It would be a mistake to speak of loam between her fingers, of the satisfaction of hearing a pod snap from its stalk. “I didn’t have much to say with my, erm, conversational partners.”

Royal brows raise to stunned arches. “Is that so? I would have thought you’d find much in common with Lord Kazunori and Lord Seiichii.”

They had both been older men, southern lords drawn to court for Seiran’s summit. Kind enough, but they spoke to her as they would their own daughters, which is to say: warmly, but brief. Not of any topics that one might sink their teeth into, lest it leaving lines around her mouth.

“I think they were more interested in talking to each other than to me,” she admits. In part because of her sex, and in part because-- well, her body may have been in that chair, obscuring the twining gods and goddess painted across it, but her mind had been a wing away, wondering if it was yet time to harvest the roku berries, or whether this year’s crop of apprentices knew akegi from yura shigure. “It seems there’s much to discuss before they all meet for, ah...discussion.”

Haki hands her a rueful smile. “There always is.” With a sigh, she sweeps to standing, as statuesque as any marble in Wistal’s halls. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it. I’ll have to ask the majordomo to find you some more scintillating seatmates tomorrow.”

“Ah..!” Tomorrow. Never had a day seemed so far away, so much more than a handful of hours between dawn and dusk. At Lilias, the nights had wavered between seasons, some so short she hardly slept between sun set and rise; and others so long that she woke in darkness, only to leave the lab in the same. But still, none seemed so long as this, and for no reason at all.

“Is something wrong?” Haki turns to her again, concern rumpling the curved lines of her mouth. “Do you have plans...?”

“No!” Shirayuki rushes to assure her. “It’s only...you mentioned dinner, and suddenly I felt so...”

“Weary?” Haki offers, when she won’t. Her eyes soften with mouth to match, smile turning her from heavenly to beatific. “I’m not surprised. You have been hard at work these last few months.”

And hardly anything to show for it, in Lady Mihoko’s learned opinion. Shirayuki bites back a groan. She would be sixty before that woman found her approaching passable, and even then, she still wouldn’t be good enough for a prince’s wife. Not when his children might have some chance, no matter how slim, of seating their sullied bloodline on the throne of Clarines.

“Perhaps you have earned a break.” Shirayuki blinks, staring up into the consort’s glowing face. “A private dinner seems in order. A night of no pressure of expectation.”

It sounds too good to be true. “Oh, no! I couldn’t--”

“Give me but a moment.” Haki hesitates at the door to her boudoir, lips lifted in an impish grin. “Perhaps my good brother might find himself available as well?”

Her mouth snaps shut. It’s been ages since she saw Zen, just the two of them. He came to dinner rarely-- understandable, with the summit only weeks away, and entirely under his purview, despite Seiran’s tacit position as host-- and where he went, Mitsuhide and Kiki went too. Haki had been her closest companion these past few weeks, the only friendly face, but Shirayuki longed for someone who didn’t look at her and see a princess, but--

Nervous energy courses through her, jolting her to her feet. Her hands itch, wanting for something to do, and with no plants to hand, they land upon the package on the receiving table. It’s wrapped in humble brown paper, folds clean and crisp, twine tightly tied. Haki’s medication, she realizes, dropping it from her numb hands. Made in the pharmacy. There’s a note on top-- instructions. She’d recognize them anywhere; after all, she’d written more than a few of them herself.

It’s curiosity that makes her pluck it from where it sits. It’s been ages since she’s been in the lab, but her knowledge hasn’t faded; there’s no harm in seeing whether there are any mistakes. An apprentice could have made this, after all. The dose does, as Garack was so fond of saying, make the poison.

She flips open the card, already flushed with the thought of being useful, but--

It’s not some apprentice’s writing at all. Oh no, she knows this spidery scrawl all too well. It was on every jar at her bench, every treatise she read late into the night.

It’s Ryuu’s.

Ignorance is bliss, they say. Always with a laugh, but stewing beneath it is envy and longing in equal measure. A pining for times past, for a childhood never quite as innocent as we remember.

For that is what we miss: innocence. Not the not-knowing, but state of not needing to know. The trust we felt towards those who always knew in our stead, who kept us safe from the dangers that pressed in around us. The ones who protected us with little lies; the small pauses to omit what might scare us, the careful editing to make our worlds the giddy fantasy we dreamed.

But there comes a day where all children must grow up. There is a day we must know these things for ourselves, so that we may see the world with clear eyes. For even innocence can be a cage, should some other hand try to lock you within it.

Ignorance is bliss, they say, but oh, only if they can keep you from knowing what it is you do not know.

May I ask you a question? the little girl asks, her gaze no longer on the garden, but the horizon beyond. It is bent in her vision, the glass made in such a way that each diamond blows out the edges, warping the world around it. She had never noticed when she looked only at the garden so near to it, but now...

Now the imperfection is all she can see.

Anything, the sorceress replies, her fingers wrapping around the caps of her shoulders. They’re cold, as cold as the glass beneath her palms.

The girl looks at their reflection, at the way the wave of the glass make those fingers bleed into talons. Where have the roses gone?

Shirayuki’s hands tremble, her eyes tracing every last loop, every hurried curve. “I didn’t...”

Haki peers around the jamb, letter folded in her hand. “Did you say something, my dear?”

This is the closest she’s been to Ryuu in months; even from where she holds it, the scene of lavender and akegi shigure waft from its paper. Not scented, not on purpose, but just from being left in a desk’s cubbyhole with his hastily tidied samples. His parchment smelt the same in Lilias, fragrant as the hothouses themselves.

Her chest can hardly contain her breath. “I didn’t realize that Ryuu was overseeing your treatment.”

A shadow flickers over the sorceress’s face, her grip painful for but a moment before she is her usual smiling self. A moment that could have been imagined, if only the girl was so sure it was not.

Roses? the sorceress asks airily. I’ve never grown any roses.

“Excuse me?”

“It only makes sense,” Shirayuki hurries to add, placing the card back atop the package. “He’s taken over for Chief Garack, and she always oversaw the royal--”

“Shirayuki.” Her name is firm from Haki’s lips, just shy of a scold. “I’m quite sorry but...who are you talking about?”

So many tales speak of trust as a blade, one that may be used to cut, that breaks when forged from brittle iron. A weapon, wielded and forgotten on the battlefield once the story is done.

But you and I know better: trust is a spell, woven to protect. It is a shield, unseen but always felt; sense by faith and not by fingers. And when it wavers, it does not break, does not shatter like a blade upon a stone; no, nothing so dramatic as that. Instead, it frays, unwoven one thread at a time, unnoticed until--

Until the hole can no longer be ignored.

She doesn’t leave the consort’s chambers meaning to break her curfew; oh no, when the door closes behind her, Shirayuki has every intention to head straight to her own. Her feet drag beneath her, weary from contorting herself into a mold that barely fits. There’s nothing she’d like more than to divest herself of all these courtly trappings and pass effortlessly into oblivion.

But she turns a corner, her mental map of the palace resolving, and she realizes: in one direction is her room, and in the other, the pharmacy. It’s late, but Ryuu would still be there, committing his last-minute thoughts to page while the offices emptied around him. She misses him, a longing so intense it aches.

It would only be a short visit. If Izana brought her before him in the morning, trying to act as both judge and jury-- well, Ryuu would be her physician, once she and Zen finally managed to make it down the aisle hand-in-hand. It only made sense to keep a cordial relationship with the man who would bear the next branch of the Wisteria tree into the world.

And if she missed him, the boy who straddled the line of friend and brother and son both-- there was no need to explain that to the king. It wasn’t as if Izana made a habit of confessing his ulterior motives to her. Though strangely, she thought he might understand that better than anyone.

Or all but one. And he...

Well, if there was a single person who might know where he went besides her, her feet were carrying her to him now/.

Were you to ask the girl, she would say she had not chosen night on purpose. The sorceress had housed her, fed her, loved her in her way; even with the image of the rose burned behind her eyes, she trusted her still, in the desperate way one does when one knows they should not, but cannot bear to contemplate why.

Opportunity chooses for her; the late afternoon sun burns hot, and when they finish their dinner, the sorceress excuses herself to lay down in the dark, to merely rest her eyes-- and does not wake, not even when the door creaks as the girl slips around it. The moon guides her steps when she walks into the garden, bright as the day itself, but she does not need it: her feet carrying her better than memory could.

There is one there, just as there was this morning: a petal, pink and sweet, fragrance so familiar she knew it even without sight.

Come out, she murmurs, digging her hands into the earth. Come out my lovely, my dear. I have been searching just for you.

A tendril spirals up from the ground, tentative. It flips and flaps, and oh, she is too shocked, too awed to help it. Even still, it finds her, wrapping around her finger, and with a single drop of blood the bush emerges, whole and dirt-smeared, from the soil.

What, it murmurs, impatience tinging its words, took you so long?

In the day, the pharmacy is all rush and chaos: apprentices burning tinctures and ushering patients to their rooms; masters emptying drawers as soon as they are filled, only for other herbalists to hurry to replace them. Guards arrive with injuries and nobles with ailments, no moment ever dull while the doors are open.

But at this hour, when the lords and ladies are all tucked in their beds-- or are at least pretending to be-- and the work is done, the pharmacy sleeps. There is no herbalist at the front desk, only the push bell Ryuu despised when she was his apprentice, since it always meant she would be pulled away from him or he away from his project.

A necessary nuisance, he called it once, and Obi had laughed. Just like me, eh, Miss?

She no longer remembers what she said-- it was early enough when he was one still, though she’d like to think she was too kind to say it-- but now she wishes, even if just for a moment, that she could tell him how much of a gift he was to her. How much he had made tedium bearable, even when she hadn’t known it for what it was.

Instead she bites her lips, rubbing at the ache in her breast. It’s hardly the first time she’s forgotten to say what matters, but-- but this won’t be her last chance. Obi might be away now, but he will be found, and she will tell him...

Everything. Every last thought she had since the moment they last spoke; her apologies and her worries, her failures and her triumphs. Because Obi hearing them-- that’s what makes them real.

Her hand wraps around the third door’s knob by habit; even now she expects to open it and see her projects spilled across her desk, to see a curtain closed beneath the other, and a window open between them. To see it waiting for her the way her heart waits for them, empty and waiting to be filled.

But there’s nothing of them there anymore. Nothing besides memories that no longer fit over the space it has become.

Her feet carry her onward, down to the last room, a sliver of light slipping across the hall where it’s been left ajar. She still expects to see a curled mass of blonde hair bent over the desk, long tables sprawled with books and half-finished studies, a bottle of roka medicinally sitting in the corner. But instead--

Instead it is a dark one, a riotous shrubbery of walnut and teak in desperate need of pruning. That had been her job in Lilias, along with Yuzuri’s helpful hands, but is seems no one here has yet talked the Chief Herbalist to task.

Give it a few years, Garack would tell her, and he’ll have herbalists as eager to get into his hair as you three were with me.

She leans against the jamb, a sigh slipping past where her heart clogs her throat. Ryuu had once fit beneath a desk half this size, and now he towers over it even seated, looking more and more like Shidan with each passing day, a man overgrown by time and deadlines.

“Ryuu.” It’s a palpable hit when their eyes meet. Everything else about him might change, but that gaze, so wide and thoughtful-- that never does.

Until now. One moment they spark, a fire lit behind blue glass, and the next...

It gutters, his gaze slipping away.

“Shirayuki.” His voice is so much deeper than in her memory, so much older. And colder too. “Excuse me, Lady Shirayuki. Is there something you need?”

“No.” She clings to the doorway, too aware of how fine her dress is, of how little it belongs in this place, his sanctum sanctorum. How little she belong here, now. “I saw a card you wrote to the consort, and I...wanted to see you.”

“A card?” His eyebrows twitch; she can no longer tell if it’s in surprise or confusion, not on this stranger’s face. “Ah. The powder for her migraines. Did you want some as well?”

“No, I’m-- I’m well.” It feels like a lie, even as she says it. It wouldn’t have, only hours ago. “I just...I’m here for you.”

His knuckles blanch where he grips his pencil. “Well, you’ve seen me. I trust you know your way out.”

You’re too late, too late, the roses say, their sing-song jangling in her ears. I’ve been hidden away for so long, and even now I cannot find him. The betrayal in their voice is thick when they ask, How could you forget us, your flower and your boy, when we have always grown together?

“Ryuu.” It leaves her lips cracked, broken; her mouth no longer knows how to form the shape that calls to him. “I know it’s been...a while, but please don’t think that I didn’t want to-- that I wasn’t thinking about you. I just...”

His pencil pauses on the page, but he does not speak. He just looks at her, the way he would at a stranger, and this room is suddenly a desert and ocean both, too far and deep to go by foot alone.

Still, there is nothing she will not brave, not for him. “It was hard to come,” she admits. “I’m not allowed in the gardens, and I’m not allowed to take patients. Coming here, watching everyone working the way I always have...”

It would have been like watching someone eat a feast while she was starving. 

His eyes soften, even if they don’t precisely thaw. “I know that you’re marrying the prince, and that you don’t have time for m--” his lips press tight-- “this. I’m not upset because you’ve set your career aside.”

“But you are...” Her words limp as she says them, wounded fawns searching of an elusive mother. “You are upset.”

His hands flex as he places them on the wood, utterly silent. “I knew...” he breathes, so harsh it scrapes her own throat too. “I knew you’d have to give things up--important things. But...”

Ryuu had always spoken slowly, thoughtfully. But still, these moments when he meant what he said, when he composed rather than conversed-- it had never taken him to long to tell her what he meant. He trusted her, knew that even if his words came out garbled or his message was lost in a sea of ellipses, she would salvage it, gluing it back together with his intention.

So when he sits silent, it wounds her almost as much as his words.

At last his gaze lifts again from his work, but the glare he fixes on her-- “But I never thought you’d let one of them be Obi.”

Her mouth works, but the well from which she draws her reason is empty, leaving only pain in its wake.

“I didn’t...I didn’t let him leave,” she murmurs, more wind than whisper. “He never told me he was going. He just left without even...”

Saying goodbye. As if all these years had meant nothing at all.

“There’s a guardsman,” she says instead, her voice trembling toward something approaching even. “He said he saw Obi leave with--” a woman-- “someone.”

Ryuu grunts.

“He ran off with Torou, once.” She wants the words to come easy, but each one emerges from her trembling, the way her fingers are against her skirts. “On the way back from Tanbarun. That’s...that’s probably what this is. An old friend that needs help, and then he’ll come right back--.”

“He won’t.”

Each breath is a stab, deep in her chest. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” He stands; a production with how much of him there is now. Cautiously, his hand extends, a fist hovering over the knotted wood of his desk.

It takes all her courage to take the first step, and all of it again to take the next. On and on until she’s crossed the room, hand outstretched, quivering beneath his own.

His palm opens, and into hers falls...a seed. Tiny. Blue. As clear as glass.

“An orbia seed?” Shirayuki lifts it up to the light, the plumule a hazy bead nestled in its luminous cotyledon. It’s impossible to tell by sight, but still, she’s sure-- it would germinate, if she planted it. “I was collecting these before we left.”

“I know.”

“It’s funny,” she murmurs, a smile lifting her mouth. “I never did find a blue one.”

“I know.” His explanation comes in fits and starts, a path never worn in the telling. “I had one. I gave it to Obi.”

“You...?” The thought catches in the light, just like the seed between her fingers. “Oh. Oh. But...” Her mouth curls, a silent question: why?

“I don’t know. I thought he might...” Ryuu’s shoulders twitch, as narrow as Obi’s when he first blew in with the wind. Before he settled into the man he became. “When he was ready...”

Of course. Her hand closes tight around the seed. Obi had what she needed all along. And she’d never known, not until...

Not until he was gone. “Where--?”

“I found it on my desk.” Ryuu’s fingers flex, falling by his side. “The morning after he left.”

Where did he go? the little girl asks, desperation choking her as surely as her tears. Where can I find him?

How should I know? the roses reply, thorns in their words as well as their stems. You are the one who left me buried under the ground. How could I watch him when you let us be trapped together?

“Did you...” Her mouth works, cutting itself against her question. “Did you tell Zen’s men, when they came? Do they know that he...?”

Said goodbye, she cannot say, to someone at least.

“No.” Ryuu blinks, his eyes as round and innocent and blue as ever. “They never did. Come by I mean.”

This is not the first time we have spoken of betrayal, is it? Of the wound that never heals, the jagged cut that scabs over only to be ripped open anew. The injury that teaches one to be wary, lest one be inflicted again.

But that is only after the wound is made. When it is first done...

Well, it is strange how long a heart can bear a blade through it without ever feeling the killing stroke. 

“You are thinking,” Haruka remarks, with no small amount of disapproval. “I can tell.”

Shirayuki blinks down at her place setting, expecting to see broth dripped across the tablecloth, or perhaps the edge of her sleeve dipped in yolk, maybe even her tea dribbling over the edge of her cup--

But there is nothing. The white linen is pristine beneath her gold-rimmed plate, her sleeves and elbows tucked up and off the table, and if anything, her beverages of choice are picturesque in their vessels, juice beading with moisture and tea gently steaming. “What am I doing wrong?”

It, historically, has been the wrong question to ask the marquis, sure to send him into a silent huff that will stretch from first course to fifth, disapproval deepening with each sorbet. In his vaunted opinion, the fact her inexperience might cause her to trespass the unspoken rules of good manners is bad enough, but to not know precisely when and how it was done-- now that was truly unforgivable.

However, today he merely settles back in his seat, rubbing his fingers against the cloth tucked over his lap, and fixes her with his unerring gaze. She doesn’t shrink beneath it; oh no, instead something in her chest shifts, almost as if-- as if it grows.

His lips twitch, just the slightest upward tremor. “Nothing.”

Her mouth opens, then closes, stymied. “Then how did you know?”

A single, noble arch lifts. “Because you have never once stopped.”

It is to the tiger-lily the little girl turns, after the roses. They are a pompous flower, no doubt, as proud and self-important as any big cat, but despite their bluster, they are honest. The noblest flower in this garden, hearty and constant, and though they sniff when she kneels down upon their bed, dirtying her hem, they listen.

Have you seen him? she asks, heart lodged tight in her throat. Have you seen my precious boy?

“So what is it,” Haruka murmurs into his glass, “that has you so engrossed, young lady?”

Her lips press together, teeth plucking at the scar. “You told me once that I should know who is my ally, and who is my-- Zen’s.”

The rim has hardly touched his lips, but Haruka sets down the crystal, hands folding behind his plate. “I did.”

“But those are not the one two options, are they.” It’s not a question, not anymore. “Sometimes they may seem to be one or the other, or both at the same time, but really-- it’s their own, isn’t it? Everyone is just trying to do what they think best.”

“That is...” The marquis takes in a steady breath. “A very mature way to see a frustrating problem.”

“The consort has said that she is my friend,” she says slowly, each word shaken loose from her heart. “But she is also lying to me.”

“Is she?”

Haruka, she had said once, these long skirts tangled around her legs, binding fast as any chain, he’s hard to read.

Is he? Zen’s hand was cold against hers, like touching marble. Izana’s had been the same so many years ago; she wonders if it might be a problem with their circulation, perhaps passed down from a parent, but this doesn’t seem the time to ask about his mother’s medical history. He’s always seemed clear as crystal to me.

Though, he continues, mouth set in a rueful grin. After a childhood of lectures, maybe it’s easier. I can tell how stupid he thinks I am just from the degree of his eyebrows.

His brow is furrowed now, a tight knot over the bridge of his nose. There’s no angle, no lift, and Shirayuki isn’t quite sure what that might say about his perception of her intelligence. If it were anyone else, she might even call it concern.

“Is she lying to you,” he asks, posing it like Lata when he wants to ask something particularly perverse as a rhetorical. “Or are you not asking the right questions?”

Her fingers clench tight on her lap, linen rucking up between her fingers. She likes this far less than Lata’s. “Your Grace...”

Now his brows raise, shock stark on his face, “Yes, Miss Shirayuki?”

“Do you...?” The words stick in her mouth; to ask them is to admit defeat. No-- distrust. That the best interests everyone has been working towards are not her own. “Do you know where Obi is?”

I have seen no precious boy, the tiger lily trumpets, as proud as ever. Only a little girl loved by all who see her. How lucky she is to garner such attention!

I care not for me, the little girls mutters, impatient. Where do you think he has gone?

Away, away. The flower bobs beneath its own self-importance. He has been taken away. Down and gone and buried with the roses. Perhaps you are the better for it.

“No.” It’s the truth; he wouldn’t bother to lie to her. “As of now, his location is unknown, even to the king himself.”

She licks her lips, nails biting into her thigh. The orbia seed burns a hole in her hip. “Are they looking for him?”

A shadow ripples over his face, gone before she can follow it to its source. “Someone might be.”

“I mean Zen,” she clarifies. “Or Izana.”

“I know,” he replies, voice impossibly gentle from such a forbidding mouth. “I think we’re ready for the next course, don’t you?”

Innocence and ignorance, truth and illusion, trust and betrayal-- we have meditated upon each, as if they are but separate concepts that can be held to the light and have each facet revealed in turn. But surely you seen that they have all brought us here, to this part, to this singular place: a knife buried in a breast, a garden made into a cage. A girl in each, who has finally seen the truth beneath the illusion.

We should rejoice, should we not? For these girls who might free themselves, might heal themselves? But yet you do not, do you? For you know the trick of it:

A wound does not truly begin to bleed until the blade is removed. And a girl like this--

Ah, her hand is already at the hilt.

For once, Shirayuki is relieved that it is her round-faced guard that awaits her and not a more experienced one. Or worse yet, Kiki, who would anticipate her before she could get a word in edgewise.

But luck is on her side; this dear boy springs from his place on the wall, every muscle tense with anticipation, quivering to do his duty, and she-- she is ready to take advantage of it.

“Ready, my lady?” he asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet, a hound eager to be given his leash. “It’s off to the ballroom next, isn’t it? With Master--?”

“Not today,” Shirayuki informs him swiftly. “I need you to take me to the king.”

The color leaches from his face. “The...the k-king?”

She nods, tight, officious. The sort Lady Mihoko gave her maids; the sort that belonged alongside a command obeyed.

“But, my lady...” He shuffles on his feet, loath to disappoint her. “Don’t you need an appointment to see His Majesty? I don’t think you can just go right in and--”

She’s already walked past him, chin held high. “He’ll see me.”

It may seem humble before the dawn, its petals as rumpled as bedsheets, drawn over its head like a child-- but when the sun casts its fiery crown over the garden, it is the convolvulus that is ascendant. It needs no dazzling pattern, no fanciful pinwheel of petal and sepal to make itself stand above its floral brethren, but only purity of color. For there is no other here that is so purely white, that has a color so simply blue. The tiger lily might roar among the plots, but it is to the convolvulus it bends, when it rises from its nightly slumber.

The little girl watches as the sleep falls from its petals, witness to its splendor. What, it asks, ruffling its delicate mane, could have made you seek me out, girl?

There is a not-insignificant portion of her life that has been spent waiting; not in the way of most of her colleagues-- for water to boil, or a titration to drip, or even for a letter of acceptance to arrive-- but for men with nothing else to recommend them but birth to decide they’re bored enough to receive the royal pharmacist. Shidan had called it fundraising and Kazaha glad-handing, but Shirayuki can admit now, as she flies past Izana’s steward, leaving him and her guard in her wake, what it really is:

Insulting.

The view always arrests her when she enters the royal solar, and this morning is no different; the sun setting, finishing its bright arc through the sky, but the angle of it, with the windows as they are-- it sets the king’s hair alight, a halo burning.

A target, she names grimly; and she the arrow. With his steward calling her name behind her, she takes a determined step toward him.

“Have you not heard then?” Izana asks, hardly bothering to look up from his papers. “I already approved your request to be excused from dinner.”

Shirayuki hauls up short, skirts swishing around her ankles. “Dinner?”

“Yes.” His brows raise, as does his gaze, already bored. “My brother already spoke about at length this morning. So if you seek to move me as well, please note that I have already stepped aside.”

“I...” She blinks. “I wasn’t here for that.”

Interest sparks in his eyes, quick as a struck match. “Then by all means, scold away. At least--” his mouth quirks, too amused-- “I assume that is your intention, marching into my office unannounced as you are.”

“Forgive me.” The steward presses a hand to his heaving breast. “Mistress Shirayuki--”

“It a force of nature,” his master replies, mouth curling like parchment corners. “So I have often had occasion to find out. You may leave us.”

“Your Majesty--” Izana merely lifts his brows, and the man stutters to a stop. “Of course. As you wish.”

“Now,” he hums as the doors close. “Just which wind sent this storm spinning into my office?”

Bound here you might be, but I know the trick of this place, the girl says, kneeing at the bed’s edge. What roots grow here touch the roots of all the morning’s glory. And you who wake with the sun-- you keep the closest watch on the horizon.

If there are any in the garden who know of my precious boy, she continues, the breeze rippling the convolvulus’s ruff. It would be you. So tell me, please...have you see him?

“It’s Obi,” she admits, heat stinging her cheeks. “I want to know the, er, status of the search.”

Izana blinks.

Oh, how kind it would be if this confusion was feigned, if it were all just a show to drag out her loyalties; to force her to admit that even if Zen was her heart, she could not turn her back on her home. That this was simply another moment where she would show him that friendship was strength, and the walls he erected himself were merely a folly.

But there is no smug satisfaction buoying his words when he asks, “The search? Didn’t Sir Obi leave my brother’s employ months ago? The beginning of the summer, I believe--”

“He didn’t quit,” Shirayuki insists, even as the seed weighs heavy between her skirts. “He disappeared, and Zen said he had put men out to search for him.”

A flower has no face, but the girl need no smile, no hooded eyes to discern the sorrowful bent of its stem.

I am but the morning’s glory, the convolvulus sighs, and when the night comes, I fold myself tight. Your boy does not pass me in my waking hours, so perhaps it is that he travels in the night.

But what does that mean? asks the girl. Why would he only travel at night? He is but a boy, a boy, and he walks in day.

The convolvulus is quiet, swaying in the garden’s eternal summer. I do not know, he admits. I do not know at all.

“Ah.” His eyes soften, no longer the unrelenting velvet of the night, but the waves of deep water, and Shirayuki finally has cause to find out: to experience Izana’s pity is a thousand times worse than his disdain. “I am not privy to the movement of my brother’s men, so long as I do not need them in attendance. He must not have put in his last report...”

“Please.” Her hand flies up between them, earning her an incredulous lift of a brow. “It only makes it worse that you are being decent about it.”

His laugh surprises her. “So you’d like me to gloat?”

“No.” Her breath saws out of her, great heaves that shake her shoulders. “I want you to grant me leave to find him.”

“You?” His brows raise, even his eyes widen, but to his credit, he does not ask, but what could you do? Instead his mask settles back over his face without a ripple, the king staring out from behind it. “It would be a waste. I have heard from your tutors that you are making good progress. Lady Mihoko even ventured to say you might make a passable princess, if you pushed out an heir fast enough.”

Her mouth twitches. Only yesterday, she would have nearly fainted with relief, but today-- “What praise.”

There’s a stern tilt to his mouth, a forbidding set to his eyebrows; if she didn’t know any better, Shirayuki would call it concern. “As I recall, our agreement did address this.”

“Then you mean...?”

“Yes.” He nods, splaying his palms across his desk, almost as if he were bracing himself. “If you leave the palace grounds, you forfeit your chance to be the one at my brother’s side. A princess leaves such things in the hands of her guardsmen--” his mouth twitches-- “and her husband.”

You want her to go, do you not? Even now you quiver at the edge of your seat, begging this little girl to open her eyes, to keep them open, to see through the illusion and run as fast as she can. You want her to leave the garden, to break through the last of this enchantment and leave safety behind.

But tell me, what would you do, with the knife quivering it in your chest? To forget it is to live with the pain. To remove it is to be free.

An easy choice, you might say. Who could live with a blade in their breast? Ah, but do not forget:

There is no way to know if the wound is fatal until the knife is removed.

“There is something I wonder, Mistress Shirayuki.”

His musings shatter the brittle silence between them; that fragile bulwark that has kept her in his skin. Now that it’s gone, she trembles, every muscle in her body fighting the urge to cross the king’s study and shake him until decency falls it.

A hopeless quest if there ever was one. “Is there something else you could possibly say to me?”

She says it sweetly; most would hear only that-- the tone rather than the content. But Izana has not sat so long on his father’s throne by being that sort of man; no, his mouth curls, amused.

“No. It’s only...” he hums, gaze lifting from his paper. “I wonder when you started to think Obi left.”

Then what do you know? the girl says, anger and bile rising in her tone. What good are you?

A flower cannot smile, but she feels teeth when it replies, I know that it will cost you, and cost you dear.

Izana might as well have struck her. Shirayuki rocks back on her heels, only just catching herself before she trips over her own hem. “I-I...what do you...?”

“When you came in here, you first talked as you had before.” Long fingers knit beneath his chin, though he does not deign to rest on them, not alert as he is. A cat before a kill, still toying with with the prey between his paws. “You insisted on his disappearance-- the implication being, of course, that you deny his own agency in his departure. Kidnapping or coercion, one might say.”

She cannot see its teeth, but Shirayuki isn’t so foolish to believe there is no trap. “Y-yes..”

“But now you come to me and ask after my men.” His mouth quirks. “You ask for my permission.”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” she asks, fingers clenching in her skirts. “A princess wouldn’t depart without the approval of her liege.”

“Of course.” He waves a hand, as if all those rules she spent late nights learning mean nothing at all, as if they were worth less than the paper on which they had been printed. “A princess would. But you, Miss Shirayuki, you--” his eyes spark, the way she only saw that night in Lilias as he closed the gates-- “you jump from windows. You follow a flower into a cave. If you truly believed your companion in danger, I doubt there is a single promise that would keep you by my side.”

She cannot breathe, let alone hazard an answer. Not when even a flutter of an eyelash could give her away.

“Which begs the question, doesn’t it?” His gaze fixes her to where she stand, pins through a moth’s wings. “Just what reason would make him leave?”

Me? the girl cries, already thinking of her lovely red shoes, of the boat they bought her down the river. Why me?

Because my dear, the convolulus hums. It is your fault that he has left.

The doors swing open, and the steward steps inside, sparing her an infuriatingly smug glance. “Sir Lowen, Your Majesty.”

“A moment,” the king tells him, “Mistress Shirayuki and I are nearly done her.”

The man nods. “I will tell him to await your will.”

Shirayuki blinks. “What--?” It’s trial to catch her breath, to make her heart stop pounding in her breast. “What is Mitsuhide doing here?”

“You need an escort to your dinner, do you not? I thought he would be the most palatable option for you.” Izana fixes her with a meaningful look. “I do hope you find your answers, Mistress Shirayuki.”

You don’t know me. Obi’s gaze is raw in her memory, too gold. You don’t know anything about me.

You know how he is. Zen’s smile curls at the edges, brittle, like parchment pasted to vellum. Obi has always come back on his own before.

Zen will take care of it. Mitsuhide won’t meet her gaze. I’m sure Obi will be back any day now.

“Don’t worry.” It’s a miracle that the words don’t catch between her teeth, the way she’s clenching them. “I will.”

A hand wraps around a hilt. A breath shudders. And with one, swift tug--

The blade moves but an inch.

[johannstutt413]

(requested by mathmaticalknight) 

“Doctor.” ShiraYuki materialized in the Doctor’s office from nothing, causing him to jump and spill his coffee. “We must talk.”

“Sure, sure, just need to find a- towel...” He took the cloth she offered him and began cleaning the mess she’d made of him.

The Anaty, for her part, walked around to the front of his desk to continue their conversation. “W’s too dangerous to trust.”

“Yeah, people keep telling me that,” he replied. It was true - they didn’t stop. “But as long as we can point her grenades away from us-”

“You gave her my job.”

The Doctor looked up from the sweetener-laden pool on his desk with a note of realization. “I didn’t know ninjas could be jealous.”

“I...I’m not.” The mostly-concealed blushing behind her mask told a different story. “You can’t trust her-”

“I can’t trust more than half the people here - SilverAsh is definitely here for more than just to ensure his sister’s wellbeing, Deepcolor is blatantly lying about the kind of person she is, Platinum might as well have ‘I’m a spy’ written on her back, Leizi’s in the same boat. Hell, you’re here on orders from the Princess, so honestly, how do I know I can trust you?” All of this was said to the coffee but directed at ShiraYuki.

That stung more than he could’ve ever known. “My word isn’t enough?”

“I...That’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “Look, I didn’t give her the job because I think she’s more trustworthy than you or anything like that. Her skills are entirely battlefield-oriented, whereas your assignment was to be my bodyguard, and you have plenty of other talents besides. Frankly, it’d be a waste to send you out on field missions when you could be here with m- to fulfill your duties as a bodyguard.”

“I see.”

The Doctor finished mopping up the coffee and grabbed the cleaning wipes he needed to keep his desk from getting sticky. “If you really would rather be out in the field-”

“No, Doctor.” ShiraYuki slowly walked behind him. “I understand.”

“Good-” Maybe a little too well, as it turned out; she’d walked around him to wrap her arms around his waist.

She slid her mask off her face so her breath would touch the base of his neck. “You want me here.”

“...Guess I gave away the ghost with that one, huh?” He sighed. “I didn’t want to make your job a big conflict of interest or anything-”

“There’s no conflict. I’m sworn to protect you.” It’s not as if the Anaty hadn’t hoped he might say something like this since first encountering him, after all.

Well, that was a load off his back, even though there was now a ninja glued to his. “The, um, other Area Snipers aren’t mad, are they?”

“I don’t know.” ShiraYuki rubbed her cheek against his back. “I don’t care.”

“Fair...Would you like to sit with me while I work? There’s a bit of admin I need to take care of before tonight.”

She released him so he could sit, but then she immediately settled into his lap. “Tonight, Doctor?”

“If we’re going to do this, we should do it right, don’t you think?” He flashed her a smile. “I want to take you to dinner and celebrate a little, if that’s alright.”

“...” The Anaty simply nodded, struck silent by the thought.

The Doctor nodded in return. “Good. You know, I’d never seen your face completely until now.”

“You haven’t.” That meant that at this point all of ShiraYuki’s excitement was on full display. “Enjoying it?”

“I’d like to enjoy it a little more, honestly.” He gave her a peck on the cheek.

...It was some time before the Doctor got any work done that day.

[natsubeatsrock]

Anime Recommendations Based on Fairy Tail's Big Four Ships

I've been meaning to do this for a long time. (I feel like I'm saying that a lot, nowadays...)

The Big Four ships of Fairy Tail are ubiquitous among fans. It's hard to find too many people that don't like even one of them. If you're a fan of Fairy Tail, chances are that you like all of them to some degree. It would make sense to find shows that have dynamics similar to the ships we love. Who better than I to make a list like that?

Someone that actually likes the Big Four ships, for a start.

Anyone who's followed me over the years knows I was never going to write that kind of list. Originally, I was only going to deal with shows that handled the dynamics in ways I personally thought better. However, I put it on the back burner for a few months. And a few months became a few years.

Now that I'm actually setting out to try to write this, I've decided that I would make a bit of a compromise. Two recommendations for each ship. Both play with the dynamic in some way. One plays with it in a manner closer to the ship it's compared to and is what I would recommend to true fans of the ship. The other is a much looser parallel and does things I'd imagine people who didn't like the ship would like. Hopefully, you'll find some show that you like regardless of your feelings about the ships.

Nalu (Positive Recommendation): Twin Star Exorcists

This wasn't as tough a decision for me to make as one might expect given my history with the ship. When Rokuro and Benio have something of a chance encounter, they don't get off on the right foot. However, they realize they have more in common with each other than they'd like to admit. They go from outright hating each other to loving each other throughout 50 episodes. Of course, it helps that the fate of the world is dependent on them getting married and having a kid together. When I think of the best things about Nalu, I think about the relationship between Rokuro and Benio.

Nalu (Negative Recommendation): Snow White with the Red Hair

Shirayuki, the character the title describes, is an herbalist. The show focuses on her journey to becoming recognized as a court herbalist and her growing romantic relationship with Prince Zen Wisteria. As the show progresses, they each end up encouraging each other towards reaching their own ambitions. I could see the argument made that this is a better parallel for Nalu than the show I recommended. But, as someone who's made a name ragging on the ship, I think I'm in a good position to make this call.

Gruvia (Positive Recommendation): Momokuri

The heck is a Clannad? The show starts with a confession of love and a couple starting to date. That would be the end of most romances, but the fun only starts there. It turns out that the guy is not entirely confident with himself and is not sure how to properly handle a relationship with a girl older than him. The girl, on the other hand, has been borderline stalking him before their relationship started and still struggles to stop following him. I hope it doesn't come off as an insult to say that I kept thinking about Gruvia watching this show. This is one of the fluffier shows I've seen.

Gruvia (Negative Recommendation): Golden Time

Stop me if this sounds familiar. There's a girl who's been really in love with a guy for years, to the point some would call it unhealthy or obsessive. Unfortunately, the guy's not into her and all but shatters her heart with the declaration that he's found someone else he likes and can only see them as friends. But in swoops someone else who has been watching everything go down and sympathizes with her. How will their romance go? On a completely unrelated note, it's weird to see Golden Time and think that this was both written and animated during Fairy Tail's serialization. Almost as if writing Toradora gave the author psychic powers.

Jerza (Positive Recommendation): Romeo x Juliet

If you're going into this with the expectation of a straight adaptation of William Shakespeare's famous play about star-crossed lovers, you will be disappointed. However, Studio Gonzo took the story and turned it into an interesting fantasy and romance series. This show gets my nod on account of playing up both the romance and inter-family conflict of the original play. Jerza represents people on opposite sides of a conflict trying their best to work together against an enemy they're slowly but surely realizing they share. Be forewarned, though. This is still an adaptation of Romeo x Juliet.

Jerza (Negative Recommendation): Our love has always been 10 cm. apart

Hear me out on this one. Jellal and Erza's relationship involves a desire ultimately to be together despite the things pulling them away from each other, namely themselves. But... does it need to involve the whole "I can't accept that I may or may not be responsible for deaths and human atrocities" plotline running through Jerza? The characters in this show have a similar internal struggle, as the title describes. They just happen to be students in different clubs struggling with how they'll handle their passions before and after graduation, along with their potential romance. Before you watch this, it might be a good idea to be introduced to the characters via the movie “I've always liked you”.

Gajevy (Positive Recommendation): Ookami-san and her Seven Companions

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away- wait, wrong story. Ookami is known as one of the more intimidating people in their school and is the main muscle of one of the school's influential clubs, Otogi Bank. The club's newest member is on the frailer side but proves himself to be both competent and reliable in a pinch. He's been in love with her since the start of the show, but she's pretty slow to accept her own feelings for him.  This one may be a fun pick for people who liked seeing how Gajevy played out. Especially given, that the ship roles are somewhat gender-swapped.

Gajevy (Negative Recommendation): Chivalry of a Failed Knight

Part of me says that I could have put any romances involving a tsundere in this spot. After all, Gajevy's about falling in love despite bad first impressions. Though, my reason for picking this story deals with a rather interesting complaint about the ship: Levy's descent into the background as the series continues. In this story, the characters get together and prove themselves to be competent fighters. Of course, this means more for Ikki Kurogane, the main character, starting from the bottom to become the strongest fighter the school has. However, you never forget that Stella Vermillion is also strong in her own right. Though I'd caution against this if you're not a fan of fan service.

Bonus: Tsuredure Children

As a fun bonus recommendation, I'm throwing in Tsuredure Children. I often worry that fans here care more about the romances in the series than anything else happening. Tsuredure Children provides a fun solution to this problem: make it about nothing but romances. This anime follows a handful of romances at a high school, following different personalities, tropes, and levels of success. There are probably some parallels to these ships, but that's what the other recommendations were for.

And that's all I've got. See you!

What are you still doing on this post?

You saw the title. I did everything I said I was going to do. I even threw in another recommendation. There was no other reason to continue this except for satisfying your own curiosity.

How much more are you expecting of me? I'm only human.

Well, since you're here, it won't hurt to reward your curiosity. Here are two more recommendations, for Zervis. Thankfully, neither deal with the whole “Is this pedophilia?” thing because I never want to talk about that again.

Zervis (Positive Recommendation): Real Girl

If you've seen my end of year favorites, you'll know that I've enjoyed this show. If you'll ignore the laughter of those who've seen this show, I chose this for one important reason. This show plays with the idea of having someone who sees value in you that others don't can be life-changing in a positive way. I have to assume that, were Zeref and Mavis allowed to be happy, that would be the end goal of their relationship. By the way, their relationship comes as a shock to those watching it go down.

Zervis (Negative Recommendation): Hyouka

This shows also takes the idea of a life-changing relationship but plays with the guy's special talents to both solve and create problems for the series. I don't know how much of this pick is a "recommendation for people who don't like how Zervis played out" and a “I can’t think of another series I’ve seen to fit what this ship could have been if it didn’t involve people who could kill each other” pick.

But for real this time, see you! 

[alphacrone]

title: for better or for worse pairing(s): Zen & Kiki, Zen & Kiki & Mitsuhide tags: au - canon divergence, arranged marriage, manga spoilers summary:

In a world where Zen never meets Shirayuki, he is still expected to marry. Unfortunately, Kiki is the best choice among his suitors.

Or, Zen has many awkward conversations and realizes something about love.

-

Zen Wistalia, second prince of Clarines, was 20 years of age when his brother commanded him to marry. 

It wasn’t that Zen misliked women, or even that he had grand dreams of finding true love. But Zen had never been comfortable in the company of noble ladies, who did not share his interests in sword fighting and horseback riding through the mountains. He loved his mother dearly and looked up to Queen Haki like an older sister, but the only woman who’d ever truly understood him was Kiki and she, unfortunately, was not an option. 

“I don’t understand the issue,” Izana said, only the barest hint of frustration in his tone. “Lady Kiki is one of your closest aides and a dear friend, is she not? That is a better choice than most in our position ever have.” 

Zen clenched his jaw. “She is…” he hedged. 

“Then it is her appearance?” Izana continued, casting his eyes down to the papers on his desk. “She’s grown lovelier since the days of being mistaken for a boy. But perhaps you prefer a brunette, or something else entirely…” 

“Kiki is very beautiful,” Zen snapped, more out of habit than anything. He’d grown very protective of her when she first arrived at the palace, and there had been more than a few hushed comments on her boyish appearance. “That’s not the issue.” 

“Then, my dear brother,” Izana sighed, bringing a few slender fingers to press at his temples. “What is the issue? I thought, of all the acceptable candidates, Kiki would be the best option—no, the only option. You’ve refused marriage interviews with any other lady. Please.” He cast a tired gaze at Zen. “Enlighten me.” 

“She’s in love with Mitsuhide.” 

Zen smacked a hand over his mouth, horrified. He hadn’t meant to tell his brother anything of the sort. 

Izana blinked once. Twice. Then he closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Is that all?” 

“What?” Zen froze, mouth agape. “What do you mean? I couldn’t do that to her or Mitsuhide.” 

“What is it you would be doing to either of them?” Izana asked, idly picking up one of his papers and examining the contents. “It’s not as if they are ever going to marry.” 

Zen pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know that! When Kiki returns to take her father’s place-” 

“Kiki has already proposed to Mitsuhide,” Izana said without looking away from the document, reaching out to grab a pen. “And he has already rejected her.” 

It was said, for many years later, that every soul within a mile radius of the palace heard Zen’s strangled cry that day.

“He did what?! ” Zen slammed his hands down on Izana’s desk, scattering papers everywhere. Izana glared at him. “Why did he- How could he- Why didn’t she tell me?!”

“I didn’t ask,” Izana said drily. “I was quite too busy discussing the logistics of an heir marrying a crown prince with her and Lord Seiran.” 

“Kiki knows about this ?!” Zen slammed his hands down again, knocking over an inkwell. Izana stood swiftly, righting the bottle and tossing a handkerchief onto the spilled ink to soak it up before it could stain his work. 

“Of course she does,” Izana snapped, tossing a few books to the ground, out of harm’s way. “Because, unlike you , she understands her duties to her family and to her country. If you are to ask for her hand in marriage, Lady Kiki Seiran is ready to accept.” 

The blood in his veins turned to ice and Zen’s hands went cold and numb. Kiki, the third friend he’d ever had, the only woman who’d ever treated him as a peer, was willing to marry him. For life! For her whole life, she’d- she’d what? Support him? Work beside him? Dance with him at balls and parties? She did all of those things already, usually with a sword in hand. Perhaps…

But there were other things that came with marriage, things that resulted in heirs . Zen’s face burned at the idea of seeing his friend naked, of doing... things with her. He’d never even kissed a girl before, and now he would have to- he shook his head to rid himself of the thought. 

“This is my ultimatum, Zen,” Izana said, voice heavy with an unleashed sigh.  “Either make Kiki your fiancé, or I will choose another woman for you.” 

Zen buried his face in his hands, too overcome to respond immediately. Finally, after a long, torturous moment of silence, he nodded. “Okay,” Zen whispered. “Alright. I’ll talk to Kiki.” 

Izana tilted back his head, shoulders drooping as if he’d just set down a heavy burden. “Thank you,” he said, and it sounded sincere. “I do think you will find happiness in each other.” 

“Thank you, brother,” Zen said. He thought of his sister-in-law, the way she threw everything she had into her duties, the way her eyes lit up when she caressed the growing roundness of her belly. Haki certainly had not been in love with Izana when they’d said their vows, but every day the two of them worked together to find small joys in their marriage. 

With a tense bow, Zen left the King’s office, hurrying away to his own wing of the palace. He needed to talk to Kiki, then yell at Mitsuhide, then- 

Zen huffed in frustration. Were he a coward, he’d have let his brother choose someone—anyone—else and live with the consequences. But Zen was too bullheaded to let his brother make that decision for him, and so his stubbornness would trump the terror he felt at the idea of asking Kiki to marry him. 

“Zen!” 

That voice...was not one Zen wanted to hear just now. He turned to see Mitsuhide approach and he felt all his earlier anger well up in him. 

“ You ,” he hissed. “You idiot !” 

Mitsuhide stopped in his tracks, hands raised in defense immediately. “What? What did I-”

“You-! Kiki proposed to you?!” Zen jabbed a finger in Mitsuhide’s face. “And you rejected her ?!” 

His aide’s eyes grew wide. “I-I-” He grimaced. “Yes. I did.” 

Zen stared at him until Mitsuhide averted his gaze. He knew the man before him could be thick at times, even downright stupid, but this …

“Don’t bully him, Zen. He’ll cry.” 

Startled, Zen jumped as Kiki approached, face far too placid for someone approaching the man who’d turned her down and the man who was reluctantly planning to propose. Zen frowned. “I think he deserves to cry a little.” 

“You know, I asked King Izana to let me tell you about this,” she said with a sigh. “I assume you’ve just come from speaking with him?” 

“Yeah,” Zen said. “I, uh. I think we need to talk?” Despite himself, Zen felt his face turning pink. Mitsuhide clearly noticed, because the fear in his eyes turned to concern. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, looking between Zen and Kiki. 

Kiki nodded, still far too stoic. “Zen is going to propose to me, I believe.” 

The silence that fell was staggering. Zen’s face burned like he’d stuck his head in an oven. Mitsuhide’s eyes grew comically large. Kiki, the demon she apparently was, had the gall to smile, just a little. 

“Y-y-you-” Mitsuhide sputtered. “P-p-pro-pro-pose?”

Kiki looked at Zen. “Am I mistaken? The King seemed certain you’d choose me over a stranger.” 

“I…” Zen rubbed at his forehead. “I didn’t imagine Mitsuhide would be here for this conversation.” 

“Really?” Kiki looked genuinely surprised. “I imagined he would be here for every step of our marriage.” 

Despite his better judgement, Zen asked, “ Every step?” 

That, it seemed, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Kiki’s impassive stare turned dark. Mitsuhide doubled over, hyperventilating. The hallway was suspiciously devoid of staff.

“That’s not what I meant!” Zen exclaimed, gripping at his hair. “I just- fuck .” 

“Maybe I should leave the two of you to talk,” Kiki said, slapping Mitsuhide on the back as he struggled for air. 

“No,” Zen groaned. He could feel a headache forming in the base of his skull. “No, you and I need to talk about this.” 

“What is there to discuss?” Kiki asked. “It would be mutually beneficial for us to marry. Your brother and my father approve. We don’t hate each other. It seems logical.” 

“Don’t you find it weird?” Zen asked, his voice shooting up an octave. Next to him, Mitsuhide was still wheezing, so Zen joined Kiki in pounding on the man’s back. “The idea of marrying me ?” 

“Not particularly,” Kiki said with a shrug. “I’ve always known I would probably need to marry for political benefit, not love. Since my love belongs to Mitsuhide, who can’t return it, then I’d rather marry someone I care about than someone I don’t.” 

The sound Mitsuhide made sounded like a cross between a dying cat and breaking steel. Zen sighed and moved to rubbing comforting circles in Mitsuhide’s back. 

“Okay, but what about the...intimate parts of marriage? Heirs will be expected…” 

“Zen.” Kiki cast him an incredulous look. “Did no one prepare you for that when you were younger? Does Mitsuhide need to give you the talk? He can explain how it works.” 

“I know how it works!” Zen protested. “But isn’t it weird, doing it with someone you don’t...love? Love like that?” 

“I have three cousins, all girls,” Kiki said, hand stilling on Mitsuhide’s back. “All of them married much younger than me, all to strangers. They all have children now. As nobles, we are raised with the understanding that we will have to copulate with someone for whom we bear no feelings.” 

Shame and embarrassment stung the back of Zen’s throat. “So you...aren’t scared?” 

Kiki’s gaze softened. “Of course not. It’s you .” 

“ I’m scared,” Zen admitted, pouting a little. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” 

“Aww…” Mitsuhide cooed. Zen smacked the back of his head, causing him to fall to the ground. 

“It would take more than sex to do that, Zen,” Kiki said drily. 

Zen looked down at his feet. “You’re right,” he said. “But things will change.” 

“They will,” she agreed. “But then, they always do.” 

Zen swallowed back his worries and smiled, genuinely. Then, unceremoniously shoving Mitsuhide out of the way, he bent down on one knee, reaching out for Kiki’s hand. She gave it to him, returning his smile. 

“Kiki Seiran, would you do me the pleasure of becoming my wife?” 

“Why Prince Zen,” she deadpanned. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Zen pinched her arm in retaliation, then placed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand.  Kiki turned her grip to haul him back to two feet, and they stood there for a moment, hands clasped in a familiar gesture of comradery.  This was what their relationship was built on: trust, loyalty, and years watching each others’ backs. If it was like this , Zen thought, then maybe marriage wasn’t so scary. 

A loud, watery sniff came from the floor, and both turned to see Mitsuhide watching them with emotional, teary eyes. “You guys ,” he said, then pulled them both into a tight hug. “You’re both- Zen, you’re so grown .”

“Oh, don’t even ,” Zen sniped, trying to wriggle free. “I’m still angry with you. Kiki, did he make you cry? Be honest with me, I’ll put him to work in the stables if he did.” 

Kiki cast a look between the two men. “I did find myself getting a little misty-eyed, now that you mention it.” 

Mitsuhide gasped. “You did not -” Then grunted as Zen pulled him into a chokehold. “ Kiki- help-” 

“Oh, no,” Kiki said. “I consider this a wedding present from my fiancé. I’d like to see how this fight ends.” 

Zen laughed and let Mitsuhide break his grip, then yelped as the older man lifted him off the ground. Kiki hid a smile behind her hand, watching her closest friends wrestle, and Zen felt a weight lift from his chest. 

It wasn’t a storybook romance, this love of theirs; it wasn’t a romance at all. But when Zen was with Kiki and Mitsuhide his world was soft and warm and safe. These were his friends, the people he loved most in the world, and while their dynamics would change and relationships would grow, this —the family he’d found for himself—would be the only love story he’d ever need.