#pretty much hints of all the shirayuki pairings

[sabraeal]

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 9

[Read on AO3]

Written for @ruleofexception‘s birthday! I had a choice between this and the Buzzfeed AU, and I jumped at the opportunity to close out this arc-- and also give at least one fic the chance to update three months in a row 🤣 I hope you enjoy your special day, Beth!

Shirayuki knows all too well what it’s like to have a defining feature.

In her earliest memories, she toddles around the swing set in the yard-- a Sesame Street one, faded from decades outdoors; she’d been shocked, years later, when she saw how bright Big Bird used to be in her dad’s pictures, canary yellow beneath his dungarees-- and in the background she can hear a boarder whisper to Busha, her hair’s so red! I’ve never seen anything like it.

It runs in the family, Busha says, her tone not yet tired. It must be one of the first times, when her apple red curls were still a source of pride instead of worry. Before anyone’s started yanking them at circle time, before full-grown adults sunk their hands into it and told her, if only my girlfriend had hair like this. Before people started calling her a firecracker, or feisty, or a fighter; before someone took a pair of shears and clipped a whole hank of it off to keep.

It’s changed her. Not how everyone expects; shame doesn’t cling to every strand of her hair, begging to be hidden. Nor does she brush it to shining every night with a hundred strokes, whispering a women’s hair is her glory. Half the time she just...forgets that there’s anything special at all, until someone stares at her over the avocados.

It’s strangers that need to make something of it, that need to say something, and well, she tries to take their compliments in the spirit they are given. Most people don’t know what it’s like-- will never know what it’s like-- to catch attention without trying. They can’t imagine being stopped on the way to school, at the gas station, at the grocery store, just to be told your hair is so red. They can’t fathom how each interaction has to be weighed and measured; to most people she’s a delightful oddity, but to a select few she’s a delicacy, something to be plucked and collected, and she never knows until it’s time to run.

(Most people also don’t know at the ripe age of thirteen that the best answer to does the carpet match the drapes? is a very assured, hair color is a different set of alleles than eyebrows and body hair. Confusion often makes the best getaway)

But that’s all typical; a natural response to a frequent stimulus. No, the thing that changes is what she notices in other people.

On some level she must see what everyone else sees first; it’s the only way she can disregard it with such unerring accuracy. When she first meets Zen, she doesn’t notice the princely bearing, the idol pretty looks-- instead it’s his hands and the firm way they clasp hers, the calluses where he holds her pen. The places where they are streaked with the barest hint of color instead of the uniform porcelain paleness-- eczema scars, he tells her, from when he used to get it every winter. With Kiki, it’s not her traffic-arresting beauty, but the way her shoulders fill out her button-up, how her skin is striped over her scapula with the tan lines of sports bras past, the casual flex of her muscles as she moves. But with Mitsuhide, well...

Much to her everlasting shame, all she sees is his height. Though in her defense, she was sitting when she met him, and he did blot out the sun. And she was very quick to notice the earnestness of his smile and the warmth in his eyes right after. But still, Mitsuhide is...large.

And yet, as big as he is, he has a gift for turning up unexpected.

“You better give those dice of yours a kiss tonight.” Kiki’s chair groans under her as she stretches up to standing, the edge of her flannel flirting with the band of her jeans. “They saved your ass tonight.”

“Excuse me, princess.” Obi’s already on his feet, grin just as ready. “Luck had nothing to do with it. That was all skill.”

Kiki’s eyes roll to where Izana sits, scribing his meticulous notes. There’s no need to say a word; she just waits, and without even a stilling of his pen, he replies, “Luck had everything to do with it. If I didn’t ask you to keep your dice here, I’d suspect you’d put that d20 in the microwave.”

“Hey, it wasn’t that--”

“You rolled three natural twenties in a row.” That ice cold gaze flicks up toward him, grim. “You can thank that rock you just threw for keeping that die from early retirement.”

“But Master.” Obi’s voice drops into his chest, a distant rumble that flutters his too-pretty eyelashes. “Could you really believe that I would do something so despicable as ch--”

“Yes,” he replies, nearly drowned out by Kiki’s, “Absolutely.”

“Hey!” The thin cotton of Obi’s button-down stretches taut over his back, his crossed arms folded tight across his chest. “I built this baby for speed and sweet-talking, and--”

“You should really consider putting more CON on Beaumains.”

Shirayuki nearly jumps out of her skin. The last she’d seen, Mitsuhide had been at the end of the table, putting away the reference books at an unhurried pace. But now the gentle gravel of his voice crinkles right behind her, and it’s impossible that he could move that fast, that she wouldn’t see someone his size slip around the table--

But she twists in her chair, her eyes confirming what her ears suggest. He’s right at Obi’s shoulder, all six-foot-four plus of him, easy smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t want to tell you to put an ability point toward it, but there’s plenty of ways to scramble an egg.”

“Ah...” Obi shuffles back a step, hip bumping into the table. “Scramble an egg, big guy...?”

“Well, ten CON is going to put you a little behind the curve for a character at your level,” Mitsuhide tells him gently. “And we’re probably not near a market that would have appropriately leveled magic gear, but we could look into investing in a Belt of Might Constitution for you.”

Mitsuhide turns toward the stairs, invitation clear in the way his body angles. Obi stares for a moment, his jaw just the slightest bit slack.

“N...nah.” His shoulders twitch, a shrug that folds him in on himself. “Beaumains isn’t really an accessories type guy...”

The smile still lingers on Mitsuhide’s lips, but it’s fainter now, reserved. “Oh, okay then. Just wanted to let you know some options.”

He ducks his head beneath the looming bit of ceiling above the first step, shoulder hunched to make himself small enough to fit. There’s nothing about him that’s particularly sullen, but there’s something in the way he holds himself that reminds her of a child’s hand slapped away from the cookie tray.

Obi stares at the space between them, growing by the second. “H-hey, big guy.” In a flash, he’s behind him, one boot fixed on a stair tread. “Do you think the belt looks cool? Beaumains could be down as long as it had, you know, a bitchin buckle or something.”

Shirayuki can’t see Mitsuhide’s face from her seat, but she can hear the laughter bubbling in his chest when he says, “I think you might have to take that up with Izana.”

Izana smothers a smile before it can take its first breath. “We can talk aesthetics when you manage to find an atelier that carries such an item out in the Welsh hinterlands.”

Obi scoffs. “Details, details.”

Kiki stands, voice pitched just loud enough so that even the boys on the stairs can hear, “The last time I checked, that was where devils live.”

If Shirayuki were to try to guess at the target of Kiki’s verbal riposte, she would have thought it was Obi-- he’s the one who rushes in to parry her witty one-liners. But instead she leans in as she passes Izana’s chair, and with more boldness than the rest of them combined, she gives his ponytail a tight, quick tug.

Izana’s nose wrinkles, but she sashays out of range from his halfhearted swipe. “That remains to be seen.”

“Hey!” Obi’s head ducks down, peeking around the corner. “That’s racist. I’ll have you know Beaumains has never seen a detail in his whole life.”

Kiki snorts. “I can believe it.”

“Obi, have you ever heard of a feat called Toughness?” Mitsuhide asks, his voice faint with distance. “I think that might bridge the gap while...”

The rest of his comment fades into an indistinct murmur, muffled by the angles and floor between them. By the time Obi answers, he’s the same, only a dancing sing-song above her. Shirayuki smiles, satisfaction warming her just as thoroughly as the cardigan she wraps around her shoulders. Despite all the, ah, hullabaloo tonight, Obi is already well on his way to making friends.

She drops the last emerald gem of her dice into her bag, setting it on the tray on the table. All she needs is to collect her notes, and--

“Shirayuki,” Izana murmurs, too soft. “If you have a moment.”

Her head jerks up, and she’s suddenly aware: there are only two people left in this room. Izana’s watching her with that steady, inscrutable gaze of his, as if he’s about to ask her to make a roll she has no skill points in, and she-- she--

Breathes. It doesn’t help with the stomach-knotting fear in her gut, or displell the knee-trembling sensation of being asked to stay after class. Not just by a teacher, but her favorite teacher; the one she studies for on weekends just so that she’s that extra toe ahead. Just that smidge more special, so that she can earn her gold-star praise.

And yet here she is, held after class still. She slumps into her seat, hands knitted in front of her. Where did Zen go, anyway? She hadn’t seen him--?

“He went up first,” Izana replies, even though she’s sure she hadn’t said a thing out loud. “Excuse me, it was obvious you were trying to find my brother. But he slunk up while Obi and Mitsuhide were talking about magic items, and I figured that you, well, hadn’t been keeping your eye on him...”

He lifts a too-knowing brow, and she squirms. “Is there a, um, problem? Did I do anything that--?”

“Oh, no no. You haven’t done anything.” Izana waves a hand, dissipating all her worries clouding the air. His mouth twists, curling into a rueful smile. “I merely wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” She wouldn’t have thought he was acquainted with the concept. At least, outside of statements penned by no less than three HR managers.

“Yes.” He shifts, and it dawns on her-- he’s uncomfortable. Not due to a lumpy cushion or a tingling limb, but because he means what he says. He’s going to apologize. “I recognize that some actions on my part caused you to be put into an...uncomfortable position tonight.”

She blinks. “I’m sorry?”

His breath hisses through his teeth. “This is far from the first time I have run a session. I should have realized that introducing such a volatile plot element this early in your tenure might...put a strain on the group’s chemistry.” He hesitates, fingers stilling where he picks at the edge of his journal. “Even if it was an agreed upon element of your backstory, I put you in a position that I was not clear in communicating the breadth of for...personal reasons.”

As pretty as his words were, they cleared up precisely nothing. “I don’t think I understand...?”

“Ah, yes, of course not. How should I put this...?” He drums a swift, asynchronous beat on the table; not music, just nerves. “Whenever I work with someone to create their character, I make sure they hand me...leverage. Things I might use to spur them into motion, if need be, or draw them deeper into the story as it is woven.” His mouth quirks. “I’m sure you suspect just which elements those might be for Lynet.”

A red gauntlet flashes in her mind, spiked and grasping, and Shirayuki fails to bite back a grimace. She’s definitely given him more than enough rope to hang her, if it suited him.

“It’s my job to appropriately apply it. To wound you with exquisite precision, if you will.” His hands still, pressing flat against the glossy wood. “I was careless tonight. I should have anticipated that the reaction a former lover might garner would not be...mild.”

“Oh.” Her head tilts. “You mean Shuuka?”

Izana stares. “...Yes?”

Shirayuki twitches her shoulders, more of a shrug than she’s seen Obi give. “Lover is a bit strong, but I wasn’t...upset? It was fun to have Lynet’s story show up so early. I know they’re on her quest right now, but...now she feels less like an, um, escort mission, and more like a party member, if you know what I mean.”

“I...” His mouth works, and beneath his furrowed brow, she realizes she’s surprised him, somehow. “I do. But you enjoyed the session, even with my brother’s behavior?”

“Of course,” she assures him. “Everyone is invested in their characters, so it’s only natural that tensions would run high. Doesn’t this usually happen?”

Her first impression of Izana had been of his height, of the way he holds himself, like a whip coiled to strike-- or no, better yet, a sword angled to parry. But now it’s his eyes she notices, not the icy pale like she assumed, but the same rich indigo of his brother’s, so deep it reminds her of Antarctica, a blue so close to black it’s bottomless. But when he looks at her now, light scatters to make them warmer, a sea more pleasant than its usual frigid waters.

“Ah...” A hand delicately covers his face, long fingers splayed over the sharp rise of his cheekbones. His shoulders shake, and for a moment she’s concerned, but he-- he’s laughing. “My brother really wasn’t kidding about you, was he...?”

She doesn’t see what’s so funny. “Excuse me?”

He lifts his hand, dismissing his good humor with a wave. “Never mind, it’s nothing. I’m glad you were comfortable, but nonetheless, you have my gratitude. Plenty of other experienced players wouldn’t handle this with half as much aplomb as you, Shirayuki.”

“Well...” Her fingers knit in her lap, knotting together like her nerves. “If you feel like you need to apologize to someone, you should consider Obi.”

That draws him up short, his hooded eyes blinking wide. “I’m sorry?”

“I just...” She bites her lip, measuring out her words. The dose makes the poison, Busha says, and it works for words as well as wellness. “Maybe I’m more sensitive to this because I don’t have, um, siblings, but...it felt like Obi was always in the position to rile Zen up because you put him there. And that’s not really...nice. Especially since he’s a new player, just like me.”

Izana’s lips part, but he presses them tight again, curling into a too-knowing smirk. “I appreciate your concern for a fellow player,” he says mildly, even as his mouth stretches wider with every word. “But please believe me when I say, Obi knew full well what he was getting into when he took a seat at this table.”

What’s unfair is that Izana invited that guy for the specific purpose of scaring Shirayuki off, and no one seems to care. Zen doesn’t lose an ounce of his bitterness in memory, but it rings at a truer tone now, watching Izana lounge behind the table, confidence palpable.

“Still,” she insists, tearing her gaze away to trace wood grain instead. Something steadying, rather than the constant agitation she feels looking at him. “Even if he was prepared for it, it’s not like taking the brunt of Zen’s attitude was any more comfortable for him than you assumed it would be for me.”

It’s the weight of his attention that draws her back into it, the way his eyebrows sit so heavily over his gaze. “You have a point,” he admits slowly, finger picking up their asynchronous beat once again. “I’ll make sure to tender an appropriate apology to our resident demon for his service.”

“Devil,” she reminds him. “I was only in the splash zone their whole...conflict, and I can’t imagine it was fun on either side.”

“Oh, you were a little closer than that,” Izana hums, but before she can ask what he means, he rolls up to his feet, towering over her. “Come, I’ll walk you up.”

She frowns, scurrying out of her seat. “I can handle the stairs myself.”

“Of course you can,” he soothes, smile taking a more genuine tilt. “But it would be my pleasure.”

He holds out an arm, gesturing up the stairwell, standing there like some gentleman out of a period piece, and, well-- it’s hard to argue with that one. At least this is something she can tell Kihal later that she won’t turn into some Cute College Boy romance fodder.

(It’s doesn’t occur to her that it would, however, cause Hot For Teacher fodder; not until it is far too late)

Shirayuki crests the top of the stairs, Izana not far behind, and her first sight-- besides the immaculately maintained foyer and its ostentatious and assumed-real crystal chandelier-- is Obi looming over Zen, smirk firmly in place as they linger at the door. Blocking really, but since Mitsuhide and Kiki are nowhere to be seen, she assumes that they at least waited for them to leave before starting in on their next round of verbal fisticuffs.

It’s instinct to get between them; Shirayuki makes a habit of giving the benefit of the doubt, but the past four hours have only proven that these two get along like Mentos and seltzer. She takes one soft step, the soles of her ballet shoes slapping against the wood, before she realizes-- they’re talking. Nicely.

“--It’s worth asking,” Zen concludes, sweater shrugged casually around his shoulders. “Izana can be a hard ass, but I think you have plenty of ground to ask for a--”

Obi’s the first to look up; a slow lift of his eyes until they meet hers. Zen must catch the change, subtle as it is, since he whips around, eyes widening. “Shirayuki!”

He bounds over to her, hands coming to fit right around the caps of her shoulders. His eyes flick over her, searching, though she can’t imagine what for until he asks, “Are you all right?”

“Ah..?

He glances dubiously behind her, right to where Izana looms, smug satisfaction wafting off of him in waves. “He didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

That gets a huff. “I am right here,” Izana informs him, prim. “I can hear you.”

Casting aspersions, he doesn’t say, but he may as well have for how loud it’s not. Zen shrugs it off with all the ease of a sibling. “You know what you’re like.”

Izana’s laugh could make plants wither and die. “Do I...?”

“I’m fine!” Her hands wave, carving out space between them. “Izana just wanted to talk about, um--” your behavior was the exact way to make this worse, true as it is-- “Lynet’s backstory. Since I, ah, improvised some of it during the session tonight.”

She’s not sure what she did to deserve two Wisterias staring at her, but she’s starting to regret it.

“Really?” Zen doesn’t have to sound so incredulous when he says it. It’s not like she’s been in the habit of lying to him. “That’s all?”

“Yes,” Izana hums, too amused for comfort. “I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. After all, Lynet has provided me with so much...raw material.”

He smiles the way a poke feels, and every part of Zen bristles. “You better not be planning to--”

“It amuses me how you think you have any foot to stand on when it comes to--”

“Hey, milady.” Obi strolls up beside her, pitched just too loud to be natural. “You ready to bounce?”

She blinks, the interlocking hamster wheels that make up the innermost workings of her brain clunking together as she tries to parse what he’s saying. “Oh,” she murmurs, the stars aligning and gears meshing. “Yes, I’m ready to, um, leave.”

“Thank you.” Izana twists away from his brother’s glare, the very picture of a congenial host. “For coming. And your gift. I plan on enjoying them.” He cuts a superior glance over his shoulder. “Alone.”

“Ah...” She glances back at Zen, watching the way crimson creeps up his neck, curling over his ears. “You can share them, if you’d like.”

“Oh, I know,” he assures her, walking them to the door. “But I won’t. Have a nice evening.”

The door shuts, gently swooshing into place, and the moment the lock catches, Zen’s voice erupts wordlessly from behind it.

“Well.” Obi blinks at the frosted glass. “That makes me glad I’m an only child.”

She lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Me too.”

Shirayuki’s only known Obi a week, but already she knows one thing for sure: it’s easy to be quiet with him.

Not that she doesn’t want to talk-- she does, she’s dying to, but when the car’s already idling at the top of the portico, they slip in without much more than a here (for when he opens her door), a thank you (for when she take the invitation), and one sec (the last thing he murmurs before trotting over to the driver’s side). And now that they’re underway, rolling out between the loops of that wrought-iron W, she finds that she isn’t concerned about providing conversation.

She settles back into the seat, giggling when the plastic creaks beneath her. Plush leather interiors this isn’t, but the seat’s at just the right height to kick her heels up on the dash, toes tapping over the silvery ACCORD label in the corner.

“Hey,” he hums, nearly lost in the soft beat of his music, turned down so low all she can hear is the beat of drums and the faint warble of a singer. “Sorry if I interrupted anything. It just looked like you might need an assist.”

Shirayuki blinks. “You mean--? Just now?” She scoffs. “A rescue is more like it.”

“Nah.” He turns the wheel, shaking his head. “You have the both of them handled. I just thought you could use the break from the balancing act.” His teeth flash in the dim light of the dash. “And I’m a walking target to Wisterias.”

The correct thing to say would be, thank you. Simple, quick, to the point. If she really couldn’t leave well enough alone, there was always, good thing they were too busy with each other to bother with either of us.

But instead she chomps at the soft flesh of her cheek, desperate to keep her opinion locked behind her teeth. It’s no use; she manages a spiky, awkward silence before the lashings fly loose, and she says, “We all like you, you know.”

It’s a good thing they’re at a stop light, since Obi’s head whips toward her, eyes so wide she can see them shine gold. “Wha..?”

“I mean, you’re a great addition to the party,” she flounders, taking every ounce of self-control to keep her hands from snapping up to cover her face. “Beaumains’ skills are an asset.”

Obi’s mouth curls into a rueful grin. “Even if he’s lacking in the CON department.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she insists, too earnest as always. “The fact that he isn’t sworn to Arturius adds a lot of inter-party tension in a way that’s interesting. It forces our characters to examine their own motivations, and what the concept of the Round Table means, rather than just blindly following his lead.”

She should stop. That’s enough of a lecture, more than Obi probably wants to sit through from a girl who doesn’t even have her own license, but the words keep sloshing out of her, like a levee straining under a seven-years flood.

“If Zen made you feel like you’re not wanted, it’s not true.” Her hands rattle like leaves in her lap. “He doesn’t speak for all of us. I know I’d miss Beaumains if he stopped questing with us, so, um.” Her teeth pluck at her lip. “Don’t quit. If you were considering it. Being Lynet wouldn’t be as fun without you.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Long enough for her words to echo back in her ears, for her to realize that she practically begged him--

He laughs.

“Oh, don’t worry.” It’s a dark, rumbling sound that has her flushing from head to toe. “I wasn’t. It takes more than a little temper tantrum to drive me away when I’m having fun.”

“Oh,” she breathes, hands clapped to her cheeks. “Ah...”

“Besides,” he hums, softer. “Me and the Prince of the Britons and the Angles or whatever had a good chat before you and His Majesty arrived. We’re good now.”

“Good now?” She frowns darkly. “Zen better have apologized.”

“Well,” he wheedles, “as close as guys get to that sort of thing.”

“That would be an apology,” she informs him, “since ‘sorry’ isn’t gender specific.”

It’s hard to make out any details in the dark; even with the streetlights and the dash he’s more a shadow limned with light than human. But even still, she could swear she sees his shoulders tremble, hedging in his face.

“Is that so?” he hums, amused. “No worries, my lady, your devoted swain cannot be scared away, even by the whims of princes. Plus, I already agreed to let Big Guy help me out with my little CON problem. It’d be rude for me to bail now.”

“Oh.” She might burn alive from how hot her cheeks are. “So you were already...and I just...said all that for...?” She coughs. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“While you were saying such nice things about me? Milady.” He presses a hand to his chest. “I’d never. Besides, you get real cute when you’re fired up.”

His eyes slant toward her, mouth to match, and something in the vicinity of her stomach quivers. “O-oh.”

“Ah...” Obi coughs, gaze sliding back toward the road. “Anyway, it’s not like His Highness didn’t have a point.”

Shirayuki frowns. “Of course he didn’t,” she huffs. “You weren’t trying to ruin the game on purpose.”

His grin stretches into a grimace. “Ah, well, that’s what I mean, Red. That first session...” His breath hisses between his teeth. “Well, let’s just say, there’s a reason why Beaumains’ CON is so low.”

Every line of his silhouette tense as she asks, “What do you mean?”

One hand raises off the wheel, thumb digging into the meat of his shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d be playing him more than once.”

“But Izana said...”

“I owed Izana a favor,” he admits, every word a pulled tooth. “He asked me to help him scare away some gold digger that was sniffing around his precious little bro.”

Gold digger. Shirayuki blinks. She’d been under the impression that people like that provided activities a little more alluring than playing an off-brand wizard once a week. “And so you...?”

“Agreed, yeah.” His shoulders twitch up into a shrug. “I thought I’d be providing a public service. But it turned out that the only thing this girl was trying to dig up was fantasy plants. And by the end of it I was, uh, having fun, so...”

“You came back,” she murmurs, stunned. “Because you liked playing with--” me-- “us.”

“Yeah.” He lets out a weak laugh. “Turns out Beaumains’ type is girls who don’t scare easy.”

He turns down her street, car slowing to a crawl, only the soft hum of the radio between them, and she wonders why she’s so tempted to ask, but what about you?

“Hey, so,” he coughs, clearing both the air and his throat. “If you don’t want me to come back, it’s fine. I can tell Izana that it’s not--”

“What?” She twists in her seat, meeting his wide eyes. “When did I say that?”

“You...” He licks his lips, then turns back to the wheel, hands clenched at ten and two. “You didn’t. But considering how you know I was trying to ruin this for you, I thought it followed that you might be sick of my face.”

She blinks. “But you did a bad job of it.”

A laugh bursts out of him, a surprise to them both. “Wow, uh, thanks, kid.”

“No, I mean...” She shakes her head, trying to clear the slate of her thoughts. There’s too much on there for her to be able to put anything coherent in the air between them. “You weren’t trying very hard. And when you could have just ducked out entirely, you came back. Besides,” she offers him a shy smile, “you aren’t trying to get rid of me now, are you?”

“...No,” he breathes, the gold of his eyes intense where they meet hers. “I’m definitely not.”

His hand twists, killing the engine. In any other car, the music would keep playing, but Obi’s is from when grown adults wore sparkly butterfly clips in their hair and dressed in space-age metallic pleather, so it cuts out, sharp and obvious, leaving them in silence.

She glances at him from the corner of her eyes, tracing the hunched curl of his body over the steering wheel.

“So what was your plan, anyway?” she asks, conversational, planting her elbow on the center console and tucking a hand beneath her chin. “You were trying to make me uncomfortable, right? That’s why there was all that cloak and dagger.”

“Izana thought you might get the hint if someone made you feel seen,” he admits, settling back into the seat. His eyes narrow, gold tracing down to their corners. “So I just went with that.”

Her mouth twitches into a grin. “And you thought flirting might make me uncomfortable enough to go?”

“Ah...no.” He scratches the back of his head. “That was natural.”

Shirayuki’s read about spontaneous combustion before, and in this moment, she finally understands how it might happen. “Oh.”

He grunts, shifting in his seat. “I didn’t expect our characters to have so much, er...”

“Synergy?” she offers.

“No,” he breathes, peering down at her with molten eyes. “Chemistry.”

Her hands clench hard in her lap, unsure of what to do with themselves. Or rather, they’re certain, but whatever plans they have, they haven’t seen fit to tell the rest of her. Well, beyond suggesting that Obi’s thermal looks very soft beneath his button-down.

“Anyway.” It’s less a word and more an inhale, Obi vaulting himself upright to clutch the wheel. “You better get inside before your grandparents think we’re up to something.”

They’d probably love it if they were. Shirayuki bites her lips to keep from saying so.

His hands fly up between them, eyes wide. “Not that I would! That’d be, um...”

“Ah.” It’s silly to feel disappointed, not when she doesn’t even want to, um, hm--

“Not that there’s anything wrong with you,” he’s quick to add, mouth clenched to a grimace. “I just mean, you’re, ah--” his gaze swings toward her, and when it does--

It’s...a lot.

“Ah,” he hums, faint. “Never mind.”

“I should...” She licks her lips, suddenly aware of every nerve ending that terminates in her epidermis. “Go?”

“Yes, good.” He doesn’t sound relieved in the slightest as she slides out, just winded. “Great plan.”

Jaja and Busha are waiting when she steps inside.

“Did you have a good time?” Jaja asks archly, newspaper casually laid open on his lap. “You were out there a while.”

She sighs, eyes rolling. “Jaja...”

Busha bustles over to the window, peeking through the blinds. She can’t possibly see him-- she’d be hard pressed to find anyone more than a few feet in front of her in broad daylight, let alone across the courtyard in the middle of the night, but that won’t stop her from trying.

“More importantly,” she intones, dire. “Did you ask him to dinner?”

[dlamp-dictator]

Allen Rambles about Code of Brawl

Man... remind me to never talk about having a future Rambling in the works, it’ll instantly fall into draft-hell. But anyway, I’ve been meaning to talk about Arknights in depth for a while now, but I’ve never had much drive to actually finish the damn draft of my initial thoughts a few months ago. I couldn’t tell you why, I just lost the drive to finish the thing. However, with Code of Brawl coming to a close and my thoughts on the event still lingering I think I can use it as jumping off point to actually talk about the game. 

That said, here’s the synopsis.

Arknights is a Tower Defense game for the PC mobile devices placed in the world of Terra, where an infectious disease known as Oripathy ravages the land, slowly turning people to minerals in a slow and painful process. You play as the Doctor, an amnesiac military commander of the Rhodes Island pharmaceutical company who fights against the Infected radicals known as the Reunion. 

That’s about as far as I can go in a single paragraph for main story, but Code of Brawl instead focuses on the eccentric adventures of Pengiun Logistics, side faction of the game that’s a seemingly innocent delivery company with quite the ragtag group in it, consisting of the happy-go-lucky gunner Exusiai, the cold and dismissive swordswoman Texas, the excitable and energetic Sora, and the business-savvy Croissant. All led by the charismatic and multi-talented Emperor. However, as their new intern Bison comes into the fold the group is caught in a series of gang wars and organized crime trying to snuff out the company.

And unlike Fire Emblem Three Houses, that really is the basic plot without me sarcastically building anything up. With that all said, I think I can move on and talk about... 

The Story

The story of Code of Brawl honestly has the best and worst of Arknights writing. I think having a story that focused on a group outside of Rhodes Island was for the better. For all the lore blurbs and archive notes we get, I think Code of Brawl proves just how little Rhodes Island is involved with the world of Terra at large despite it’s apparent reputation as a weird and quirky company with some terrifyingly powerful Operators and lofty ambitions. And while I’m still only on Chapter 4 since I’m grinding out some E2 before moving on, Rhodes Island really does more reacting to random Reunion plans than anything proactive with their goals of curing Oripathy. They feel more like a counter military force to Reunion, and a barely effective on at that given the point of the story I’m at. Code of Brawl, being focused on another group with a more direct conflict and villains, feels a lot more cohesive and interesting, as Penguin Logistics’s goal is to just get Bison through his first day and take out whatever force is harassing them this week. 

Penguin Logistics as a whole is a rather interesting bunch of ruffians and seeing them is gallivant around Lungmen trading blows and bullets with gangsters is a joy to read and see. Seeing some of the inner workings of Lungmen society, seeing a bit of the underbelly, as well as getting to see the cast just have more casual interactions with each other is great. We learn that Sora really is just gay for Texas, and the all of Penguin Logistics has only 3 function braincells with Texas having one and Mostima having the other two.  We get to see that Sora has probably beaten someone to death with her microphone at some point given how willing she is to bar fight. A lot of fun stuff.

And then... there’s Mostima. 

Look, I like this story, I really do, but Mostima really didn’t need to be here as far as the story is concerned. All she does plot-wise is rile up Exusiai, drop some cryptic advice for Bison, shows she knows more powerful than she leads on, and is a bit of a deus ex machina for the end of the plot, and not even by that much. You could had replaced her with Chen, Swire, Hoshigumi, ShiraYuki, or anyone else that would logically be in Lungmen at the time. Hell, ShiraYuki knowing everything a being cryptic about it would at least be in character for her. 

And that’s not to knock Mostima. I actually pulled her in my last ten-pull (didn’t get Waii Fu though, and I’m still salty about that), she’s a pretty good and damn near god-tier once you get her to E2 if some of the guides on her are to be believed, though her kit is a little niche for an AoE caster of her cost. However, as far as the story is concerned she shows a serious issue with Arknights as a whole. That’s its constant need to have half of their characters be mysterious.

Mysterious Characters

So, just to give an example, here is a list of characters in Arknights with a Mysterious Past™. These are characters that either have their archive notes explicitly state their past is unknown, or characters who’s past is implied but but deliberately kept unconfirmed.

With that said...

Mostima

Myrtle

Cuora

Skadi

Specter

Shining

Siege

Projekt Red

Specter

Blue Poison

Lappland

Texas (?)

ShiraYuki

AMIYA

Okay, I’m cheating a little with Texas since she has enough of her past implied, but it’s still technically a mystery as far as the specifics go. But you see my point, right? A lot of characters have a Mysterious Past™, which is a nice shorthand to not go into depth about writing their background. Now, you don’t need to give twenty paragraphs on their backstory, but something would be nice. Keeping things a mystery might be nice for the theory-crafters, but for me it’s annoy as hell to see so many character, so many high-rated that really just have their skills and design to go off of, especially with most the cast overall having a pretty simple background to them that are interesting when you read through the lore blurbs and think about it. Breeze is a former noble that wanted to do more good in the world than throwing money at a problem. Liskarm is a protective friend that joined Rhodes Island to make sure the problematic Franka integrated without problems. Frostleaf is a child soldier that wants to do some good in the world after becoming Infected. Kroos, Beagle, and Fang joined Rhodes Island after getting kicked out of their old jobs. You don’t need to be flashy, but giving answers isn’t an admission of lacking creativity. The hints might be nice for the analysts, but the fans would likely want some answers.

Again, Mostima isn’t a problem, and a lot characters in that list do have some concrete hints about their past. Texas and Lappland are likely a former mafia heiresses and old rivals. Shining was likely a highly skilled mercenary before realizing she could do more good in the world with a healing staff instead of a sword. Siege is likely apart of Londinium royalty, but was either exiled or ran due to political turmoil. But that’s the issue, likely isn’t confirmed. Mostima being a powerful character with a mysterious past just feels like a cop out to me. It’s not bad, but she’s a symptom of what some of the issues of Arknights story is. I’m not asking for AFK Arena-levels of lore, just... an explanation here or there would be nice. 

But anyway that’s my main issue, moving on.

General Gushing

Despite that large critique I have, there’s a lot I love about this story. For simplicity sake, because I’m tired of all the editing, I’ll put it into list form:

Penguin Logistics in general was just a joy to see. Watching them in action and just how laissez-faire they are is hilarious, especially when paired with the straightforward and reserved Bison freaking out over the wackiness. 

Speaking of, Bison made for a very good straight man to balance out all the wild antics of PL. He really kept things from getting too crazy by at least questioning the zaniness, and the point when he finally stops caring and just charges in with a crazy plan of his own just gave me the giddiest of smiles.

Given how they discuss it, PL apparently trade blows with criminals and thugs on a daily basis, and since they’re just a delivery company this implies they likely deliver drugs or other hot cargo the mafia and gangs want... and given Emperor’s personality, that wouldn’t shock me.

Emperor in general is a delight of a character. He’s about as charismatic and wild as his aesthetic makes him look. I would legit whale for him if he ever become an operator.

Learning a little bit about Lungmen culture was fun as well, as little of it as we see. It’s my personal headcanon now that the mafia and general thugs of Lungmen don’t mess with civilians because they’re either a sleeper agent under the Rat King’s protection or they might be a kung fu master in plain clothes like Waai Fu.

Waai Fu and Texas fist fighting in the streets of Lungmen is just hilarious and awesome. I honestly don’t know what that says about either of them. Texas is holding her own against a martial artist with over 10 years of experience barehanded, meanwhile Waai Fu is holding her own against what lore blurbs have implied is the former heiress/hitman of a mafia. All the while drunkards and Texas’s coworkers are egging them on. This is the dumb content I live for.

Save for some of the absolute bullshit of the challenge maps, I found the actual game content to be pretty fair and interesting. The Bullies required good defender placement, a lot of the ranged units focused on targeting the helpful buildings that buffed your characters and increased the operator deployment count, and maps themselves had a few clever chokepoints to work with... At least until they started spamming Fanatics.

Bison actually has a pretty solid kit for a free Operator. He buffs a lot of adjacent units, has a no real weakness, his tools don’t feel niche like Grani or Celycon, overall a great unit. Once I finish E2-ing all my main Operators I might build him next. 

While I have issues with her as a story element, Mostima is a 6-star that has instant utility once you promote her to E2, much like Chen and Siege. This is something I’m relieved to say as a lot of my 6-stars aren’t worth much until you E2 them and I’m still trying to E2 some of my easier units like Cuora and Gavial for Chapter 5 and CC.

That’s really all I have to say on that front. So to close things off...

For the Future

Like I always say in these Ramblings, I don’t like the idea of people prattling on about being able to “fix” or “rewrite” something has already been made. It always comes across as both arrogant and ignorant to me. However, I think it’s completely fair to make requests and suggestions for the future. ‘

That said, I'd like to continue seeing side stories without Rhodes Island’s involvement. Both to see other factions in their natural element and because, frankly, Rhodes Island always feels a little out of place when involved in other stories, or at least more of a distraction than a good element if chapter 2 and 3 are anything to go by. I think a Black Steel side story would be nice. Jessica, Franka, Liskarm, and Vanille getting into shenanigans in Columbia or something sounds like a fun time. Maybe have the leader/high commander of the organization as a new operator and they’re a really powerful Supporter than can buff the party, like a 6-star version of Sora or something that gives operators insane ASPD buffs... I don’t know, something like that anyway. Ideally something a little less wordy than Code of Brawl at least.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say. Next time... I’ll talk about something else. Maybe discuss a manga or something. 

See you all later.

[zacekova]

Everything’s Fine (Really) chapter 6

First - Next

Shirayuki was putting on her earrings when the buzzer rang. She rushed over to the intercom, heart pounding. “Hello?”

“It’s Obi,” came tinny through the speaker.

“Okay, I’ll be right out,” Shirayuki said. She slid into her shoes and snagged her purse from the couch, slinging it over her shoulder and turning off the lights on her way out.

Obi was leaning against one of the pillars supporting the second-floor balcony, hands stuffed in the pockets of his black dress slacks. The corded muscles of his forearms disappeared into the rolled-up sleeves of a pale blue dress shirt,  fabric stretched tight across the line of his shoulders and around his biceps.

Shirayuki dragged her eyes up and flushed at the look on his face.

There was no mistaking the look of barely contained hunger, his eyes burning as they roved over her and the heat of his stare searing her skin in feverish prickles. Why he was looking at Shirayuki of all people like that made little sense, but it seemed stupid to question it, stupid to deny the fact that she craved his interest.

Not that it would be smart to start anything. Shirayuki really didn’t want to have that conversation with Zen.

She cleared her throat. “Uh, hi.”

Obi’s eyes continued their slow, meandering journey up her body, an agonizing, smoldering drag that didn’t cool when their gazes met. Obi looked at her without a hint of shame and Shirayuki was torn between fleeing back into her apartment alone or dragging him in with her to leave a trail of clothing up to her bedroom door.

But neither of those options would lead to a free dinner and her stomach had started complaining ten minutes ago. Shirayuki plastered on a friendly smile, one that didn’t reveal how much she wanted his mouth on her and her hands in his hair. “You clean up nice,” she said.

He grinned. “Job requirement.”

Shirayuki’s brow furrowed. “To be in a gang?”

Obi laughed, head thrown back and exposing the long line of his neck. “No, to be a bodyguard for a mob boss. Especially mine.” He pushed away from the pillar and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Shirayuki nodded. “Yeah.”

Obi’s car was clean and sleek and “black, like my soul,” he said, eyes twinkling as he held the door open for her. It was warm, the heat turned on low and a relief after the chill wind on Shirayuki’s bare legs.

Obi slid into the driver’s seat with more grace than anyone had a right to utilize for such a benign action. He pulled out onto the road in silence, the lines of his face neutral and relaxed, and Shirayuki watched the buildings pass by as they headed downtown, the street lamps flickering on one-by-one as the daylight faded.

Obi parked them in the lot of a large hotel, a skyscraper that towered over much of the city at its feet, and took her arm to lead her inside. They squeezed inside an elevator with a handful of guests and rose through the center of the building, the doors opening on a massive, circular room. The restaurant lobby was a perfect ring on the top floor, surrounding a kitchen that was blocked off with red brick walls. The tables were scattered around the main floor with plush, white chairs under soft, muted lighting. The outer walls were all glass, floor-to-ceiling windows that showed off the city skyline in breathtaking display.

A maitre d’ stood nearby, holding a pair of menus and waiting patiently for Shirayuki to stop staring around her in amazement. He led them to the outer wall, the edge of their table an inch away from touching the glass. Shirayuki waited until he left with their drink orders before leaning over the black marble surface and speaking in a hushed voice. “Are you sure you can afford this?”

Obi laughed. “It’s fine, Miss, I get paid pretty well. Besides, I’ve been here so many times that most of the staff know me by name. They’ll probably give me a discount when they see I’m here on a hot date,” he said, throwing her a wink.

Shirayuki flushed, easing back into her seat and pulling the menu up in front of her face. He really needed to stop saying things like that, it was getting her hopes up.

Her eyes happened to skitter across one of the meal prices and she jolted, slamming her open palm over the right side of the menu. She would just… not look at it anymore. For the sake of her heart.

“So, do you know what you want?” Obi asked.

Shirayuki glanced at him and back down, shaking her head. “Uh, no. Honestly, I’m not even sure what half of this is. Is this even in English?”

Obi leaned over the table to tap at a couple of lines, explaining what some of the mysterious dishes and ingredients were. His lips and tongue rolled smoothly over the foreign words like he’d said them a thousand times. He was patient, the lines of his face neutral as he talked, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Do you like seafood?” he asked.

Shirayuki nodded.

“Try the moqueca, then,” Obi said. “They make it pretty good here, it’s about the closest thing I’ve found to my grandmother’s.”

“Your grandmother?” Shirayuki asked, curious but forcing herself not to sound too eager. In all the time they had spent together Obi had rarely given away personal information and never anything about a family. 

This time, though, he nodded, a soft, relaxed smile gracing his face. “Yeah, she raised me,” he said, reaching out for the bottle of wine a waiter had dropped off and popping the cork.

Shirayuki hesitated. “Can I- Can I ask about your parents?”

Obi’s smile turned a bit wane as he poured each of them a finger’s-width of red before setting the bottle aside and taking a sip from his glass, shrugging. “Never found out who my dad was, if my mom even knew, and she got sick when I was a baby.”

Shirayuki’s heart constricted and she reached out, brushing the knuckles of his hand. “I’m sorry, Obi.”

“Can’t really miss what you’ve never had,” he said, shrugging again. He pasted on a bright smile and pulled his hand out from under hers to grab his shoulder. “Ah, don’t worry about me, Miss. What about you, any family?”

Their waiter walked up before Shirayuki could answer. She let Obi take care of giving their order, his ease with the language obvious and far more articulate than her own pronunciation would have been.

“So what language is that?” she asked after the waiter had left with their menus. “And what kind of food is this? I’ve not heard of any of it before.”

Obi settled back in his seat, stretching his legs out underneath the tale until his feet bracketed her own. “Portuguese,” he said. “And it’s Brazilian food. Pretty good Brazilian food, too. There’s a place out in Westend that has better but it’s not really a nice place for a date.”

Shirayuki fingered the napkin wrapped around her silverware. “I’m not really the type to care how fancy a place is, so long as it’s clean.”

Obi’s lips pursed. “It’s not the restaurant that’s the problem. Westened is a bad neighborhood, Miss, you should know that.”

It shouldn’t have been such a big deal, being turned down, especially as gently as Obi was handling it, but she was eager to get to know him, wanted to visit the places he liked, try the food he liked, and she couldn’t help pushing. Shirayuki gave him a wide smile, turning up the charm. “I’m sure you would protect me.”

His face hardened. “No.” He turned to look out the window, brow furrowed and eyes dark. “Not happening.” 

Shirayuki blinked, a bith thrown, and looked down at the table. 

He seemed to sense Shirayuki’s rising disappointment, or saw the way she had flinched at his sharp tone, and softened a bit, voice dropping to just above a whisper. “I’ll… bring you takeout sometime, alright?”

Shirayuki nodded, unsure how to lighten the mood, and twisted her fingers in the edge of the tablecloth that hung in her lap, picking at the stitching with her fingernails until Obi nudged at her ankle with the side of his foot. She looked up.

He was smiling again, eyes bright and the harsh, hard lines on his face erased. “Is that a new dress?” he asked, glancing down.

Shirayuki’s gaze flicked down as well, tracing over the black lace wrapped around her arms and torso, and nodded. “Yeah, how’d you know? Did I forget to take a tag off?” she asked, twisting and turning to check herself.

Obi shook his head, smirking at her erattic searching. “No, I just didn’t take you for the type to keep a dress like that on hand. I wanted to know if you’d had to go on a special shopping trip just for me.”

Shirayuki froze, processing, and leveled him with a suspicious look. “Are you teasing me?”

His smirk deepened. “And if I am?”

Her gaze was steady, challenging. “You’re going to regret this.”

“Oh?” Obi asked, leaning back and waggling his eyebrows. “Why’s that?”

“Because I learned from the best,” she said, unrolling her napkin primly and laying it over her lap, “and you won’t survive.”

Obi threw his head back and laughed.

The waiter came back with their food before he could retaliate, a large bowl of some kind of stew for each of them. They thanked him and tucked in, both groaning simultaneously and grinning at each other across the table. They fell into silence as they ate, Obi with gusto and Shirayuki just as enthusiastic but at a slower pace, pausing from time-to-time to look out the window. The food was good, the view was beautiful, and she wanted to enjoy it.

It was during one such moment that Obi spoke again, jarring Shirayuki from her thoughts. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said, soft and low. “The dress was a good choice.” His eyes had settled on her, warm and gold and burning like embers in the heart of a fire, eager to be stoked.

Shirayuki flushed, breath hitching in her chest, and that seemed to be the first prod to fan the flames.

The light in Obi’s gaze flared, his fingers clenching and mussing the tablecloth. “Shirayuki,” he breathed, voice tight and yearning. 

The way his lips caressed each syllable was sinful, intimate. Shirayuki sucked in a breath and shivered. She leaned over the table before she could stop herself, heart pounding in her chest, fingertips desperate to touch, to drag through the dark strands of his hair, to trace over the soft skin of his lips, to tangle in his shirt and wrench him forward to-

Someone cleared their throat. They both whipped around to find their waiter standing with the receipt book in his hand, the corners of his lips twitching. “Pardon me,” he said. “Your bill.” He laid it down on the table and backed away with a dip of his head.

Obi picked up the book and stood, eyes everywhere but her and fingers drumming. “I’ll, uh, just go take care of this and… pull up the car. Meet me downstairs?”

Shirayuki nodded and watched him walk away, pulling his wallet from his back pocket as he went. Her breath left in a rush, shoulders sagging, and buried her face in her hands.

What was she doing? This was quickling moving past the professional boundaries she had set for herself. And she was really quickly forgetting why she cared.

“Get yourself together, Shirayuki.”

[traditional-with-a-twist]

Names in the Sunlight, Snow and Rain Series

I thought I would post my notes on the names for the four Akagami babies for anyone who might also be interested!

I love names; I have for years. For my twelfth birthday, my mom got me a book of baby name meanings because I had read the family’s old copy to tatters. So, of course, I spend way too long on OC names.

Ringo is the most obvious, since his name is discussed in-story. It’s Japanese for “apple” and is actually used to describe Shirayuki’s hair in the anime. In a way, Raj is naming his son that to remind himself of how far he’s come since meeting Shirayuki and of how important being a good and unselfish king for his people is.

(For those curious about Katan’s name: I got it from a minor Star Wars character. I literally picked it out from a list of female Star Wars characters because I liked the way it sounded. Tanburun has a slightly smaller proportion of characters with Japanese names than Clarines does, so I was trying to maintain that. I was also expressing my frustration with the fact that google searching “Obi” always turns up Star Wars results.)

Fujiko is also pretty straightforward. Since Zen is dead in this AU, Kiki and Mitsuhide named their daughter for him. One meaning of “fuji” is wisteria, so Fujiko just adds the common Japanese feminine diminutive to become “little wisteria.” (Mitsuhide’s overprotective reaction concerning his daughter should give you a hint about how well he’s processed Zen’s death, even years later.)

The origin of Orbia is also hinted in-story: Ryuu asked Obi and Shirayuki to name her after the orbia flowers with the colorful seeds that he gives to Obi. I also picked this name for her because it beautifully completes the family: Obi and Shirayuki, Shigure and Orbia.

Shigure’s name has the longest, most complicated history. I wanted a name that indicated some union between Obi and Shirayuki’s names. Unfortunately the meaning of Obi’s name is unclear because it’s only written in the phonetic Japanese alphabet and a single sound can have a number of meanings in Japanese. I looked up all the meanings associated with the two sounds in his names I could find and compiled the following list:

“o” can mean male, cherry blossom, thread, beginning, center, idea, sound, peace, cheerful, great, imperial

“bi” can mean beautiful, Japan, day, sun, truth, reality

 Now if I were writing a fic solely based on the meaning of Obi’s name, I would probably assume that he made the name up. Getting everyone to call him “beautiful man” seems in keeping with Obi’s sense of humor, so I would probably go with “o” meaning “male” and “bi” meaning “beautiful.” Two things stopped me from doing that.

One, I don’t know enough about the Japanese language to say for sure, but I suspect that the kanji for “bi” that means “beautiful” is most commonly used for feminine names. Two, and more significant, that meaning didn’t help me pick a name for their kid at all.

While I was brainstorming, I looked up name meanings for other characters. I found out that Mukaze’s name meant “breeze.” I was thrilled: that meant he matched Shirayuki—they both have weather related names. And Obi had potential weather-related meanings for him name, too! The sound “bi” could mean “sun.” (I never did decide which meaning for “o” I would want to pair with it). It would be great to give Obi and Shirayuki’s son a weather name of his own. Meanwhile, my sister weighed in to opine that Shirayuki would definitely name all her kids after flowers. That made me think of the yura shigure because I had already seen the name “Shigure” used for another character. Looking up the meaning just cemented it for me. The name turned out to be pretty rare and also to refer to “a shower in late autumn.” If Shirayuki is snow (winter) and Obi is sun (summer) then “autumn rain” is the perfect name for their son!

I loved all my names so much that I incorporated them into my chapter titles, which I could go on ad nauseum about. I like to read this sort of stuff, so I’ll write it, but feel free to stop here if you’ve had enough.

Day 1 – The Sound of Sunlight on Snow

This is just a reference to Shirayuki and Obi.

Day 2 – Sun through the Cloudburst

Obi and Shigure, plus my trying to avoid using the word rain over and over. Honestly I wanted just the phrase “sun shower” for this chapter but it was too different from the others.

Day 3 – Thaw in the Springtime Showers

This where the titles start getting complicated. I wanted to have a chapter named after Shirayuki and Shigure, but I love Ryuu and wanted to include his name, too. Unfortunately, I could only find the phonetic alphabet version of his name (I don’t know if any other is ever revealed). Most commonly, “ryuu” can mean “noble, prosperous” or “dragon” in Japanese. Since spring is the growth season and also associated with the blue dragon of Chinese mythology, I thought that it would be a good season to represent Ryuu. Then the “thaw” could refer to Shirayuki’s winter (and to the thawing of Ryuu’s hurt and loneliness).

Day 4 – The King’s Harvest

This one’s easier but still complicated. Harvest refers to both Shigure and Ringo, since both apples and harvests are part of autumn. The king obviously refers to Raj’s station but also to the likely origin of his name: the Hindi word for reign or rule.

Day 5 – Windy Mountain Rain

I eventually decided to give the name reference in the title to Mukaze since he’s the reason that Obi and Shirayuki were there and the main inspiration for the prompt. (Plus Mihaya was too rare a name to figure out a meaning for quickly). The title is also a reference to one of my favorite songs from childhood: “Smoky Mountain Rain”

Day 6 – The Love of Flowers for the Rain

This one was all Fujiko and Shigure because of the prompt.

Day 7 – Colors Reflected in the Raindrops

Orbia is a made-up word as far as I can tell. I decided to use the word “colors” to reference the seeds, since the color of the seeds was an important moment for Obi. With this title, I started the series with Obi’s and Shirayuki’s names and ended with the names of their two children.

And that’s that! This was very indulgent, but I hope somebody enjoys it.

[sabraeal]

Mukaze and Haruto!

High tea is a private affair, at the request of the queen dowager. There are to be no other ladies in attendance, save for her guest from the university.

The bandits were most certainly not invited.

The queen dowager sets down her cup, not bothering to arise from her seat – as if this sort of interruption was commonplace, expected – and says, “If you would be so kind to give us a moment, the tea has just finished steeping, and then we will be on our way.”

It sets the tone for the most civil kidnapping Shirayuki has ever experienced.

She’s not a stranger to it, by now. The close companion of two princes, a countess, and a man with a patched past, Shirayuki has been thrown over the back of a horse more times than a saddlebag. Tanbarun hadn’t even been the first time; she’d thought to tell Obi that when he seemed so set on blaming himself, but one look at the painful lines around his eyes had made the words wither on her tongue.

She had, after the second time, hands clenched tight around his middle as they rode away from the bandit camp, all of them under the thick sleep of the lethe she’d thrown in the fire. He’d laughed so hard he nearly toppled them both off the horse.

Funny what a few years can do.

She’s adept at saving herself, now. A well placed stomp and a sharp elbow keeps most of it at bay, but this –

Well, she’s never been kidnapped quite like this.

Haruto refuses to acquiesce to be bound, either to her or a horse.

“It’s the principle of the thing, sirs,” she tells them, as if they are merely wayward knights. “Surely it will be a better thing for you when the king arrives, and he sees I have been kept in comfort.”

Just the way she says it, when the king arrives, is like a knife to the belly of the band. A ripple of unease goes through them, and their leader snaps, “Fine, just the red head then. We can sell her –”

“Oh my,” Haruto gasps, pale hand pressed to her mouth. Her expression is the very picture of innocence, of a pampered noblewoman with no concept of what might happen to girl without the crown’s protection -- but her eyes are narrowed, cold as she speaks. There is no doubt, not for Shirayuki, that this woman birthed Izana. “I’m afraid the king would be most put out if anything happened to my companion. She’s very dear to me. The entire family.”

They turn to her then, faces scrunched in confusion, and she does her level best to look – regal. Someone of importance.

“Don’t he have an understanding, what with the Mistress of Lyrias?” says one, eyeing her sharply.

Haruto lifts her hands, what can you do. “The heart wants what it wants.”

Shirayuki has to bite her tongue. Haruto is doing her a favor. She won’t be sold now, won’t be separated and lost among the other girls who are destined to end up as concubines and worse.

But still – wouldn’t saying that she was –? That Zen was –?

It would have been enough.Izana didn’t need to be brought into this, surely. Now she lays awake at night wondering what will happen when they are found, what Obi will say when they tell him she’s Izana’s lover –

She does not think about what Izana might say. It’s too terrible to contemplate.

When the shouts come, the palisade of the bandit camp breaking down under horse hooves and battering rams, it is not Obi who rides through the gates, or Izana but –

“Dad?” she gasps, as the tent flap whips back, revealing the solid form of her father. “How did you –?”

“Now, now, kiddo.” The rumble of his voice fills the space between them, rough with good humor. “I may be getting old, but don’t hurt your Papa by telling him you don’t think his ears can hear about the queen of Clarines and her red-haired pharmacist being kidnapped at lunch.”

“High tea,” Haruto corrects mildly, and she sees her dad stiffen – he must have forgotten a queen would be with her – just before he turns, and –

And she’s never thought what it would look like, the way her and Zen met, eyes meeting as he leapt over the wall, looking every inch the prince he was even out of his regalia. The way time slowing might seem to someone standing outside of it –

But she knows now.

“Your majesty,” her father says, with the same warm reverence that Obi says Miss. He holds out his hand, his stance going from rebel captain to courtier in a breath.

Haruto lays her fingers gently over his palm, her slender hand dwarfed by his broad one. “I’m afraid,” she says, so soft, so radiant. “That you have the advantage of me, sir. May I know the name of my rescuer?”

“Mukaze,” he says, breathless.

“Mukaze.” She says the name like she’s savoring it. “You may call me Haruto.”

They reach the village not a day too soon. Shirayuki doesn’t think she can take another day of – of –

“Shirayuki!”

The gates burst open, and it’s Mitsuhide’s face she sees first, then Kiki’s, and then –

“Zen,” she breathes, her lungs bursting free of the tension that’s kept them tight, kept them caged all this while. She can’t get to him fast enough, can’t feel the solid weight of him against her soon enough. His scent so soothing to her even now, even when her heart flutters and stomach tips at the sight of him.

“You’re all right?” he asks, nose pressed into the fall of her hair. “You’ve not been harmed?”

“I’m fine.” She steps back, drinking him in. Her father had teased her about his fancy messenger but not once had she imagined that Zen would be the one waiting for her. “I didn’t think you’d be here!”

“Izana and I left as soon as we heard. Made it to Wilant in three days. It took us another two to catch up to –” He hesitates, mouth clamping down in a frown. “In any case, me and Mitsuhide and Kiki made it here in the dead of night. We hadn’t had sleep out of the saddle in days. Your father was insistent that he leave right then, and we – I wanted to be there, when they got you.”

“You’re only human, Zen.” It means more than he could know that he could come at all, that Izana – “Where’s Izana? And…and Obi? Obi!”

Her heart pounds, brought back to that forest in Tanbarun. He’d chased her then, he’d never let her go now, not unless –

“Is he hurt?” she gasps, fingers clenched around his tunic. “Did something happen –?”

“No.” There’s something wrong with Zen’s face as he speaks, something stiff and wooden. “He stayed with Izana, looking closer to Lyrias. We weren’t sure which way the band had gone, and my brother can’t cross the border without causing incident, so –”

Her brow furrows. “Obi didn’t know which way they had gone?”

Zen is rigid under her hands. “It’s a long story. And –” he coughs – “and I am much more eager to hear about you. I trust the ride back has been pleasant.”

Now it is Shirayuki’s turn to grimace, to turn to wood in his arms. “After a fashion.”

“Shirayuki –?”

She knows the exact moment he sees them; his eyes widen, he takes half a step, and then –

Her father has already dismounted, handing his mount off to Itoya with barely a word, and now he stands at Haruto’s side, arms outstretched to catch her. She falls into him from the saddle, his broad hands spanning her middle as if she were a girl no older than Shirayuki herself, lifting her up and down, far too close –

“What on earth,” Zen mutters.

Shirayuki sighs, eyes clenched shut. “I know.”

They arrive at the border a bare half week later – much to the protest of her father and Zen’s mother.

“You’ve both been through an ordeal,” Mukaze says, entirely too close to Haruto. She can’t see their hands through the tables, but she knows they’re touching. “You should stay, rest.”

“My brother was quite adamant on that point.” Zen has barely spoken this week without it being through gritted teeth. Shirayuki can’t find cause to blame him. “He can’t cross the border without permission from the crown of Tanbarun, and that will take a weeks, at least. You can understand, he would like this all resolved much sooner.”

His mother casts her a long, watchful look. “But Shirayuki –”

“I’m recovered,” she blurts out. “Very much. Can’t wait to go back. Really.”

“If you’re sure –”

“I am,” she says, the same time as Zen grits out, “She is.”

Their parents share equally suspicious looks, eyes narrowed at them across the table.

“We can leave at dawn tomorrow.” Zen stands up, green in the torchlight. “I’ll arrange it.”

An army awaits them on the border, and for a moment Shirayuki’s breath catches, and something deep within her says, run. But in the next she sees the tense set of a man on horseback, his body slouched in a way she could not mistake, and before she can make out his face in the morning light, she is off, stumbling toward him, leaving her mare behind.

“Miss,” he breathes, catching her between parties, hands locked around around her elbows.

She does not even realize what a burden she’s been holding, not until he touches her and it lifts, so thoroughly absent it’s as if it never existed. “Obi!”

He begins to slip away, body growing shy so near to hers. It is the last thing she wants; she catches him and crushes him close, until the sound that pounds in her ears is his own heart.

Obi is frigid beneath her hands at first, but he thaws so easily. Arms clutch her to his chest, nearly lifting her off her feet. He buries his face in her hair, breathing deep, and she wonders if she smells the same to him as when she left, or if she smells of leather and wood as he does.

“Miss.” It’s a croak, a groan of a door rusty with disuse. “Miss –”

“I’m back,” she gasps, surprised at the heat that wells in her eyes. “I’m back.”

His fingers knot in her cloak. “Welcome home.”

“Suitably dramatic,” Izana tells her as the parties ride to meet each other. “You’ve given the men something to talk about all the way to Wistal.”

In his usual way, Shirayuki isn’t sure if he means that as congratulations or censure. She’s not sure she ever will.

“You audience seems impressed too,” he adds, and that is when she looks, when she sees Zen riding toward them with a question in his eyes.

He keeps it until he’s close, until the intensity of it, the certainty makes her own gaze skitter away. Their own reunion had been intense, tearful –

But it should be that way, between people with an understanding. Her and Obi –

He’s her home. Whatever else may lie at the center of that tangled knot in her chest, he’s that.

Zen dismounts and does her the favor of not asking. Instead he turns to Obi, clapping him on the back. “If you’re here, my brother must have kept you on a short leash indeed.”

“Master.” Obi presses a hand to his chest, scandalized. “To think, after all these years, you think I have not learned heel.”

“Not to cut your training short, brother,” Izana cuts in, impatient. “But mother –”

“Oh,” Zen groans, tilting his head to the sky. Shirayuki doubts her expression is any better. “Mother is just fine.”

Obi’s eyebrows rocket to his hairline. “That sounds like a story.”

“No,” Zen snaps. “It’s not.”

Izana’s brow furrows. “Zen, what do you –”

And that is when the crowd parts, giving the king his first look at his mother in months – just when she falls, giggling, into the arms of a rebel captain.

“Goodness me,” Obi hums, mouth curling at the edges.

“What,” the word snaps from the king’s mouth like a whip crack, “in the world happened.”

At least Obi seems to be enjoying himself.

“Master’s mother,” he says, voice trembling, “and Miss’s father.”

“This is…unexpected, but…fine,” Izana says, tone saying it is anything but. “After all, it’s not as if it’s been consummated –”

“Oh, it has,” Kiki assures him. “Mine and Shirayuki’s tent are right next to Haruto’s. The giggling coming from there has been…”

Something Shirayuki would rather forget. “A lot.”

“Well.” The king’s face is slack, horrified. He’s at a loss. “Well.”

Kiki let’s out a huff. “I haven’t slept in –”

“Please,” Zen begs, “stop talking about it.”

“Why Master, Miss,” Obi purrs, dropping his hand to reveal a smirk Shirayuki can only term as unsettling. “This makes you practically siblings.”

“O-oh,” she gasps, stomach roiling. “Oh my.”

Zen grimaces. They look everywhere but at each other.

“Oh my,” Izana drawls, suddenly much recovered. “I had so wanted a sister.”