Obi hadn’t expected it to hit him this hard, being back at Wistal. The sun is shining, reflecting off the castle’s pristine plaster and stone to brighten every corner of the elegant courtyards and galleries. It’s even more peaceful than he’s thought of it, when he looks back.
He’s always said he never forgets a face, and here is the proof- those two guards he duped at the gate may be glaring at him today, but he knows they’ll all be addressing each other by name in a couple of weeks. The kitchen helper who snuck him treats before Master remembered his new dog needed regular meals waves, and Obi waves back, just for a moment before Lord Haruka turns the corner and Obi ducks into the foliage. He doesn’t forget a hiding place, either.
Down the lane he can see the corner of a greenhouse he knows all too well; she kissed him for the first time there a couple of days after he kissed her in the storage room. They giggled together, hiding behind the irrigation pump until she could tear herself away to get back to work. Garrack knew the first time it happened but kept her own counsel. The moment they stopped hiding, of course, out came the silphium and the innuendoes and Obi could expect a blush as red as her hair the moment he stepped into the pharmacy. If he made special trips for the sight, nobody can blame him.
Those were the best days he ever had. Two years of best days, of learning by her side that he was worth more than what his hands could harm, that he was capable of building as much as he could tear down.
He shakes the past out of his head and scales one of the palace’s better climbing trees. Experience has taught him to keep an eye out for princes with sharp rocks, but he’s alone for now with no scar on his cheek for the reminder. Elder brother should be away for some time yet, but Master-
It won’t be long. Master will be back this afternoon, and Obi just has to know what to say. He’s ready for this. Really, he is. Somewhere in the pharmacy Shirayuki is spiraling, and Ryuu is being no help at all. He’ll learn in time, but he’s still so young. Obi slides out of the tree, still safe from princes, and saunters over to the guards’ training grounds. The training sword still feels foreign in his hands, although perhaps not so much as it should, but he won’t have time to use it.
He knows just where he needs to be for her to find him.
“The forest? On the estate?” he asks as if he can’t see how frantic she is to get away. She can keep her face quiet when she wants, but her eyes don’t lie and the tension in her shoulders tells the story. “I’ll go with you, then.”
And this, this is why he’s here. A quiet walk across the Wistal castle grounds, nearly side by side. The sun glows hot on their hair, the trees ahead shimmering with the promise of shade, and the only sound is the crunch of gravel beneath her boots.
Now is the moment he reached out and she turned back to face him. Now he curled his hand around hers and gave her promises that things could be better, that he would be on her side if she needed him. Now she smiled at him and the unwilling fondness in his chest bloomed into more overt infatuation. Weeks from now she confessed that she didn’t want to be a princess and he promised she wouldn’t have to be. Months from now he knew he would never love someone else the way he loved her and he kissed her in the basement and she kissed him in the greenhouse and a year later they were married here in these woods-
And less than a year after that she died a fugitive at the Tanbarun border, fleeing a Clarines where the usurper makes war with the invader in the mud covering the bones of every last Wisteria.
He won’t let it happen this time. Master will need the both of them in the coming years. He can’t be the man Shirayuki loves and the killer Clarines will need.
All he can give her now is a better chance.
He slows, steps falling behind her. He’s pictured this moment so many times, made his choice, but even so he can’t stop his hand from reaching out.
His fingers sweep untouched through air, a future dissolving in the space between them as in the distance hoofbeats draw close.
Obi lies on his side on a soft castle bed. Outside the window the stars wheel silently overhead, the moon casting a softly knowing glow. He can still feel the warmth against his fingers of a figment of his imagination.
It was just supposed to be a sweet little romance between a sweet, smart woman and a handsome prince. A short little wish-fulfillment shojo thing, maybe a couple of volumes, something to keep food on the table while he finished the pitch for the story that was supposed to be his real job. He was going to get his ninja drama established in a major shonen magazine and it would run for at least ten years. It would make his career.
It would have. He has to believe that. Because someday people are going to realize he has no idea how romance works beyond the most basic of fairy tales, and they’re going to metaphorically ride him out of town on a rail. He is not qualified for shojo.
He’s lost without a map, writing by the seat of his pants. And yet right now even that is not his most pressing concern. That would be the fact that his heart is beating out of his chest. He didn’t know you could even have a panic attack inside a hallucination, or a dream, or whatever he’s been stuck in. He’s a side character in his own story, they’ve passed up all the plot he already wrote and have moved on into the unknown, and he can’t deny any longer that he’s fallen in love with his own protagonist.
He’s such a cliche, and it hurts too much to even be offended about it.
The balcony scene could have been perfect. Out in the beautiful moonlit scenery, she would pine for her distant royal love. Her prince, of course, would be pining under the moon for her as well. A symbol of love, binding them together from miles apart- the symbolism would have been fantastic. And the shading, the delicate outline of her profile backlit by the moon- But no, every beautiful image has been wasted on an upstart nobody who wasn’t even supposed to be there. He had to have his existential crisis on the same balcony, and instead of pining for the one far away, she reached out her hand to the one who was there.
She’s supposed to be in love. She’s supposed to be focused on that. She’s not supposed to be so caring, and thoughtful, and earnest- He’s never even thought about what his ideal woman would be like, and only now does he realize he’s been writing her all along.
So he’s the one who needs to focus, to keep his eye on the prize and not let himself be distracted by impossibilities. As long as the prince keeps his hand on the leash, they can keep this plot on track. And maybe when he wakes up from this long, long dream, he’ll have another arc or two to keep it running.
He just has to remember this all when he wakes up. Maybe he’ll even throw in a ninja as a second love interest, just to keep the prince on his toes.
“Oops,” lies the Sea Snake, droplets of blood flinging in a gruesome trail from the backswing of her blade, and Shirayuki drops, pale and boneless, at her feet.
Obi’s orders flare to ashes; what good is hiding what he is when he can’t protect his lady? He is worth nothing if he’s failed her. The cries of pirates and renegades slow to drones in his ears, the arcs of knives and arrows grinding to a near-halt in their paths. Umihebi’s eyes are fixed on him, empty and hateful and far too slow to see him move.
Only the first heartbeat of fear reaches her eyes before Obi snaps her neck.
The chain of her weapon rattles on the deck before her body hits, tossed aside so even in death she cannot touch Shirayuki again. She is no longer Obi’s problem, or anyone’s, and pirates and lions roar their dismay and triumph somewhere in the distance.
Shirayuki’s blood pulses faintly, still, running over his hands as he cradles her neck, supporting her head like he would any patient under her direction. Months ago he would have hungered, rejoiced at the reward the marquis had promised him, but for almost as long now it’s been the last thing he would have hoped for. All he needs is her safety, and what he wants more than anything is her approval. He presses on the wound, but the flow is too strong for hands to hold back. It’s far too late for the medicine she’s taught him; the only remedy here is the one only he can offer. One she would never ask for.
“Let me save you,” he whispers to her, hoping she has enough of a spark left to answer, but there’s no response but the hitching struggle of her breath.
No matter how much he wants it, this is not a decision he can make. The burden of this life is unbearable for the unwilling. The magnitude of his desire scares him, how unprepared he is to lose her. But it’s not a decision he needs to make alone.
Master would order him to save her.
Her blood is sweet on his fingers when he licks his thumb clean, a taste he can’t help but savor even as he mourns the necessity. One swipe of cleared skin along the edge of a blade, one deep red drop of his own splashed against her paling tongue, and last of all the intent, and the deed is done. It’s a simple contract, for what it means, and now it only remains for her to complete her part. It would be best for her to be far from a battlefield when that comes due.
Obi gathers her against his chest. The din around them has decreased noticeably, whether due to the Sea Snake’s rapid demise or the natural attrition of battle Obi doesn’t care. Kiki looks up from inspecting a chip in her blade and meets his eye. “I’m taking her away from here,” he says. “Tell Master we’ll be back.” There’s no time to say more, but Kiki’s eyes follow the trails of blood, far too much to ignore. She nods, solemn and silent, and Obi runs.
The next time they all see Shirayuki she will no longer be human.
The rhythms of the drumline echo off the distant buildings, overlapping with the growl of the crowd into a distant thunder. Shirayuki waves her paper ticket at the booth, but the student stationed there doesn’t even look up from her phone. Apparently if one were to desire to sneak into a Wistal High home football game, near the end of the first quarter is the time to do it. Shirayuki spends the last few steps to the stadium outlining an editorial about responsibility and vigilance, then discards the idea as she scurries through the opening in the stands into the glare of the field lights.
Football is not her sport, really. She could write reams about tennis, but this school doesn’t even have a tennis team. She gets volleyball, but covering volleyball is all Suzu asked for this year. She has a suspicion the draw may be primarily that of tall women in tight shorts, but he’s actually enthused and she couldn’t take that from him. Ryuu claimed swimming, because it’s indoors, and Yuzuri used to play soccer, and that leaves the editor with the assignment nobody else is willing to take. If that alone weren’t enough, Yuzuri took one look at her and the quarterback and decided it was meant to be and nobody would come between Shirayuki and football games.
It’s a really good thing that Ryuu does not take orders from Yuzuri. He waves at her from a few rows up, then dumps a notebook in her lap the moment she sits down. “Are we winning?” she asks, half a joke. She’s only missed twenty minutes. That’s, what, the coin flip and three plays?
Ryuu points to the scoreboard, where Wistal is scoreless to the visitor team’s nine points. That’s quite a start. She peers out onto the field, where Mitsuhide is the first player she can pick out at first. He’s tall and he stands up very straight, but something about the way he’s fidgeting tells her he’s concerned about something. She finds Zen next, with his quarterback’s sleeves. He looks more annoyed than concerned, with the way his hands are moving. The team spreads out into one of their incomprehensible arrangements - someday she really should get Zen to explain them again but her motivation is low - and she checks the far side for Obi’s usual spot, but he’s not there. It looks like one of the freshmen in his spot, maybe Kai. “Obi’s not on the field?”
“He took a hit in the last play,” Ryuu says. “I was watching the ball, so I didn’t see it, but they carried him off on a stretcher.”
Shirayuki stands up, craning to get a better look at the bench where the lack of helmets makes identifying the players much easier. She can find Kiki instantly, blonde ponytail swishing like a matador’s cape in front of the other team, but there’s no sign of Obi’s dark bristle. “Like right before I got here?”
Ryuu nods, and she shoves the notebook back at him. “Just a few more minutes,” she begs, and doesn’t wait for him to answer.
***
The last time Shirayuki was in the medical room, Zen had hit her with a football. She shouldn’t have been on the field during practice, no matter how much she really wanted to get a quote from Kiki, but throwing things at her was not the way to deal with the problem. She retaliated a little out of proportion and they got escorted to the clinic by a very disappointed Mitsuhide, where they both got their bloody noses iced and walked out friends.
So she definitely knows where to find an injured player. Even if she hadn’t, the sound of voices would have given her a pretty good clue; the voices and laughter that follow whenever Obi’s the center of attention are spilling out into the hallway.
Obi lights up the moment she walks through the door, looking far too cheerful for the amount of ice and bracing on his leg. “You missed my big play!”
“You couldn’t have waited another five minutes? I was only a little late!” Her stomach flips a bit at the thought. Actually watching him get hurt would be just about the only thing worse than not seeing it. She tries to swallow it down and act normal. “Is it your knee?”
Be’s half buried under a veritable mountain of ice. There’s really not much else it could be. “I wonder,” he says anyway. She could shake him when he gets like this, but he just grins at her. “Does this mean I’m the headline of the game today?”
“The headline-” Of course, she’s supposed to be here for journalistic purposes. Poor Ryuu is out there taking notes on the game for her, while she’s here indulging herself in fretting.
He does owe her for the poison ivy incident, even if he won’t admit it. “Ryuu can cover the game. I’m not leaving you here alone.”
There’s a thump from the back room, and Obi raises his voice. “Our illustrious medical team would be so sad to hear that they don’t count.”
“Shut it, loser,” comes a voice from the back, fondness undercutting the insult.
Shirayuki takes the opportunity she’s given, scooping his unattended hand and clasping it in her own.
***
Kiki’s the first member of the team to find them. “I saw Ryuu in the stands,” she says. “Make sure he knows I expect to see a full description of my foul in tomorrow’s article.”
Shirayuki whirls to face her, squeezing Obi’s hand tighter as he tries to slip away. “Oh no, did you get hurt too?”
There’s no knowing what dentist the Seirans frequent, but Kiki’s teeth are bright and straight as she throws her head back and laughs. “You should have seen the other guy. I finally got that unnecessary roughness call I’ve been courting all year.”
Obi holds up his free hand, and she slaps it smugly. “How about you? What’s been going on here?” Her eyes track from the soggy pile of sweating ice packs to Shirayuki’s hand still entwined with his, then raises her eyebrow when she meets Obi’s eyes.
“They’re waiting to see how it looks after the game,” Obi says. His hand goes stiff, finally managing to wriggle out of Shirayuki’s grip. “Nothing else.”
“Well, game’s over,” she says. “Zen’ll be here any minute; he missed you both.”
“Did we win?” It’s not like it’s going to make up for shirking her duty, but Shirayuki can at least get the basic facts. She refuses to feel more than a little guilty.
Kiki’s mouth curves faintly, like she’s got a secret. “We did, thank you very much. With our best receiver out of the game, we had to resort to field goals more than usual, but I made sure it worked out for us.” Shirayuki pulls her phone out of her pocket; she can still feel the warmth of Obi’s hand in hers, but if he’s not going to hold it any longer, she can take notes. “You’re looking at the owner of the new school record for field goals in a season.”
“And also the most penalty yards for a kicker,” Obi murmurs. Kiki doesn’t answer that, just radiates satisfaction even more intensely.
The door swings open, this time for Zen. There’s a grass stain down the left side of his uniform, but his hair still looks combed. “Kiki? The tv reporter is looking for you.” He takes in the rest of the room, eyes sliding right across Obi to stop at the sight of his girlfriend. “Shirayuki? You were here?”
“Taking pity on the poor invalid,” Obi says, a little too quickly. “A real angel of mercy.”
The smile on his face takes any sting from what could have been mocking, but still an odd tension follows. Zen watches Obi, sweat-stiff hair unsticking from his forehead as he frowns. Kiki looks thoughtful, but at Shirayuki instead.
“I should go apologize to Ryuu,” Shirayuki says, breaking the standoff. She doesn’t know what messages Zen and Obi and Kiki are all trying to communicate with each other through frowns, but if nobody’s going to include her in the discussion, she has some groveling to do. There should be enough teammates in the room now to keep Obi from doing anything ill-advised.
“I’ll go with you,” Zen chirps, bouncing to Shirayuki’s side with far too much energy for someone who’s just played an entire football game. He slips his arm through hers without pressing too close; it’s usually a comfortable position but something about it doesn’t sit right tonight. Before she knows it she’s halfway out the door, Kiki on her heels. She looks back over her shoulder, but Obi waves after them with a smile.
Only in the last second before the door swings shut does she see the smile drop, and her stomach drops with it.
