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sabraeal · 8 months

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Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 9

[Read on AO3]

Written for @sepalina's birthday, who deliberated for two days only to suddenly remember, oh yes right she has a favorite fic 🤣

That Seiran chick might have a princess’s pedigree around here, but there’s nothing dainty about the way she grips the metal bar at the end of each of their cots, twisting her wrists like she’s picturing flesh and bone rather than steel.

“You two have to be the biggest boneheads I have ever seen stuffed into a drive suit.” Her fingers clench, and Obi could swear the mental dints. “A bare knuckle brawl in the dome? At a time like this? Are you two insane?”

“Ah, well…” The Big Guy may have looked tough when Obi took him to the mats, a more solid anti-kaiju wall than anything the PDPC could toss into the Pacific, but he cringes just like any other mortal would when Kiki Seiran looms over him, all her disappointment honed to a point. “It wasn’t really a brawl. Just a…regulated spar, like usual—“

“Usual?” Her arms fold the way steel does into rebar, and oh, the princess is not amused. “Obi’s more bruise than bone.”

“Aw, Princess,” he croons, trying not to wince from the effort. “If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.”

Her spine straightens, giving her all the extra inches she needs to give that glare of hers momentum, hitting him like a body off the Golden Gate hits the bay. “I can see the other guy. You’re both in the same infirmary, because you’re the same amount of stupid.”

“Actually, I’ve been wondering about the logic on that one.” He tilts his head, trying to go for that doleful dog stare that does wonders on sweet little nurses with hearts of gold. Too bad he’s got Yuzuri, who only wrenches his head back to the side, holding him still enough to swab when the skin’s split over his cheekbone. “Is this our— yikes, careful there, Florence— get along shirt or something? Two guys take some swings and you hope sticking us in a bottle sorts it out?”

“No,” she deadpans, taking a pen light out from the pocket of her scrubs. “I’m trying to quarantine the idiocy. You better be careful, Major” —she casts a long glance princess-side— “it might be catching.”

That regal mouth twitches, somewhere in the realm of amused. “Too late for me. No one ends up in a drive suit unless they’re born with it.”

“Ha, that’s for sure.” A light sears across his line of sight, leaving constellations in its wake. “As for you two, I didn’t see the point in sending you to your corners when you’re so friendly. Saves me space, and you can treat tonight like a sleepover. Braid each other’s hair and talk about cute boys.”

“Er…” How a big man like that can go through basic and still blush as easy as a school girl, Obi will never know, but it’s funny as hell. “I don’t really have opinions on cute boys…”

“Don’t worry, Big Guy,” he grunts, snuggling his shoulders into the pillows at his back. “I’ve got enough for both of us.”

That gets him a real side-eye from GI Joe, one that only ends when he swings those golden retriever eyes onto the real authority in this room. “Is there any way I get to go back to my bunk tonight?”

“Sorry, Major.” No matter what she says, Yuzuri’s shrug doesn’t give a single hint of regret. “Gotta keep you both on observation. SOP for rangers with head injuries. Last thing we need is for you guys to hare off and play hero just because you heard the dinner bell.”

He grimaces, all perfect teeth in a perfect face. Pity this guy fell into the military before someone could get him a magazine cover. Obi would have loved to hang that pin-up over his bunk. “Ah, right. That…makes sense.”

Of course it did. They might all be kaiju-fodder in the end, but they were the expensive, top shelf shit. The kind the PDPC wanted to stretch out as long as possible, not waste on some idiot who went into the drift concussed and had his brain melt right out his ears for the effort. Obi half surprised they haven’t been shoved into an MRI just to make sure.

“Aww, but you don’t really want to leave, do you, bestie? Not when we’re gonna have so much fun.” The target of his grin shifts from bed to bedside. “What do you think, Yuzuri? Think we could borrow some ManGo For It or Red Hot Rio?”

“I dunno,” she deadpans, not even looking up from her notes. “I think he’s more of Rosy Future guy.”

“Really? Still running your mouth?” Her Highness tosses her head, more pony than princess. “Did you not get beat bad enough?”

“What, this little mosquito bite?” Obi gives his jaw a good clench and turn, displaying his medal of honor at its best angle. Hurts like a bitch, but it’s worth it to see even Princess get squeamish. “Lucky shot. I got three hits for his one.”

Her mouth does that thing it does, that twitch, the one he’s starting to figure out is a laugh. “Yeah, and that’s all he needed to make you crumple like a tin can.”

“I already said I felt bad about that,” Big Guy grumbles, all folded in on himself like a teddy bear longing for a good squeeze. “I wasn’t trying to…well…”

“It’s okay, Superman, we all know you’re living in a world of cardboard.” Obi leans over, giving one of those meaty shoulders a good pat. Probably feels like a whisper to a man that stacked. “How can I blame you, when you were only defending milady’s honor—?”

Her weight shifts, no longer balanced parade-style between their cots, but sitting back in her hips, displeasure heavily implied. That man-sized mountain straightens so much it Obi can practically feel the plate tectonics beneath his palm.

“I was not!” Big puppy eyes swing right around to the ticking time bomb at the end of their beds. “I would never do that!”

One elegant eyebrow arches, and ah, now he can see why half the PDPC pisses itself when she punches the bag right off its chain. Most of the rangers the Academy rolls out are brawlers, the kind of guys that get in between a kaiju’s punch and the Pacific coastline, but this girl— her power’s in the application of force, the art of finessing a blow to where the bones can’t bear it. Can’t get into a brawl with a fighter like that and expect an old fashioned beatdown, oh no— when princess steps on the mats, she doesn’t fight, she dismantles.

Ha, and by the way she chucks her chin, all challenge, she knows it.

Now how about that. It’s a whisper in his ear, a hum across the million and one electric impulses in his brain, dangerous and fond. Remind you of anyone you know?

Knew, maybe. Bright blue smears over stark white when he closes his eyes; suits that stood out, even among halls that housed living legends. Eye-catching, the higher ups had called it, but it caught all the wrong eyes when it came to Sonisay. They all learned, of course; even now he hears the sickening crack of bone, sees the sweep of dark hair as she steps out of her spin—

Not just that. That laugh jangles his nerves, too close to his own and yet infinitely different, inimitable. Not just her.

There’s a boy too, too small, too skinny, too…not enough. Might as well be a shadow for how closely he clings to that same dance, to those same stances. Might as well be a monster for how easily the bones crack under his heels too, no remorse, no regrets—

A boy that shouldn’t exist. A boy that no longer does. Obi closes his eyes.

You can’t look away forever. Too many voices to count on that one. Watch me, only his reply.

“Let me make something clear.” Big Guy’s grunt grounds him, dragging him right back down to his bed, to the finger waggling at him. “Kiki doesn’t need me to fight her fights for her. If she wants to kick someone’s ass, she can make her own bodies.”

Ah, great. Got back just in time to witnessing Bloodbath Barbie over there desire Big Guy carnally. Not that he notices; oh no, the Jolly Marine Giant only has eyes for him, serious as a heart attack. Makes him want to mention that these rickety little med cots can’t handle two ranger pilots going at it, let alone three, but of course Yuzuri’s gotta make it a rain out.

“All right, all right, visiting hours are over,” she sighs, and oh, by Princess’s look, this is the first time someone’s tried to shoo Kiki Seiran out of anywhere. “These boys need some rest, not an audience. Just gonna rile ‘em up.”

This guy benches almost twice Obi’s weight, a monster of a man, but the second Yuzuri aims that scold his way, he’s all puppy. “But I wouldn’t—”

“You might behave, but he won’t.” She jerks a thumb back where Obi lounges, pointed. “And if he doesn’t want to play nice, he’ll find some way to drag you along with him.”

Sounds about right, hums a nuisance that has no right to throw stones. Not at this particular glass house, at least.

“Me?” Obi a presses a hand to his chest; harder to see it tremble that way. “Why, I was only going to take a small snooze. A cat nap, really. How could I—?”

“No sleeping!” Yuzuri glares at him, incredulous. “Didn’t I just say you could have a concussion?”

“Aww, come on,” he sighs, hooking his hands behind his head. “First no fighting, now no napping? What else are we supposed to get up to in here?”

Princess hangs in the gap of their curtain coverage, and oh, she may not smile, but that’s one masterclass of a grin. “Strenuous activity.”

“Kiki—!”

“None of that either!” With an officious wave of her hands, Yuzuri succeeds in doing what PDPC has failed to do for years: tell Kiki Seiran where to go. “Now, get. These two don’t need a bad influence.”

“Aww, c’mon, Flo! That’s no reason to shoo Princess out,” Obi whines now that his entertainment has sashayed right out of his evening. “I’m an even worse influence, so—”

“You don’t need to tell me,” she sniffs. “Now give it a rest. Or else I’ll call Shirayuki down here, and she can read you the riot act.”

There’s a time he might have laughed. Might even have let one shoulder and a wry eyebrow do the heavy lifting as he said, I’m sure the Good Doctor has better things to do with her time than worry about little old me.

But a week ago he woke up in one of these cots soaked in his own sweat, ears still ringing from a klaxon that never rang. At least, not in this dome, not that day; his stomach churning from the heady brew of trauma and military grade sedatives. He’d turned, half convinced he’d see either six bodies or and empty room, and instead—

It was her. Tiny ponytail and all, clumps of it making a bid for freedom from that poor excuse of an elastic. A borrowed one, all stretched out from trying to contain the fallout from Yuzuri’s nuclear-level event that she calls her hair, but it’s serviceable. Enough to bridge the gap between now and whenever Doc finally decides whether she’s gonna bite the bullet and grow it out again, or just chop the whole thing off.

That’s not the sort of stuff he knows about people. Not the sort of stuff he ever gets close enough to find out. But she was sitting right there, head tipped off the back of that chair, breath trembling the little flyaways splayed over her lips, and—

“Fine,” he sighs, settling back into his pillows. “I’ll play nice.”

Yuzuri snorts. “I won’t hold my breath.”

It’s when Big Guy lumbers out of their cozy little curtained love cave to go take a piss— or a shit; Obi might be nosy, but even he’s got his limits— that Yuzuri swoops back to his bedside, using his vitals as an excuse to say, “What the hell were you thinking anyway?”

None of her business. There’s a gruffness to that, a texture that implying barbed wire fencing with the prickly bits facing inside. Embarrassment, the kind a boy at the cusp of manhood couldn’t bear with any grace. Not that he had done all that well with other emotions either.

Could never bear being anything but the hero. A taunt, a snipe across the mess hall’s tables. Even in his head those two would never get along.

You can just admit it. Sonisay speaks the way silk would sting, if it could, a smooth stab with no mess left behind. A sliver beneath the fingernail, only noticed when it slips deeper. It’s not as if you were thinking of anything sexual.

Sure. There’s no need for the smile-like stretch over his synapses, too smug. But not from lack of trying.

He appreciates the honesty is the best policy shtick, especially from the girl who always spoke out both sides of her mouth as easy a breathing, but Obi settles on a nice neutral, “What?” instead.

Might earn him the sort of look that begs the question of just what is rattling around between his ears, but it’s better than having to explain that when he closes his eyes he sees red. Not spread out across his pillow or tangled in his fingers, but caught up in plain little hairpins, already slipping free.

“Are you kidding me?” Her gaze darts over the the empty bed beside his, pointed. Oh, so that’s what she’s asking about. “Did you somehow miss how big that man is? He could fit two of you between his shoulders!”

“Aww, Flo, he’s harmless.” Pain shoots up his cheek when he tries to grin, settling somewhere near his temple. Damn, that’s gonna put a real crimp in his game. “Big Guy’s a gentle giant.”

She stares at him. “Half your face is a bruise.”

Obi hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing himself in the mirror lately, but by the way one half of his face feels heavy enough to make him lean like a tower in Pisa, he doubts that’s an exaggeration. “He didn’t mean it though.”

“Doesn’t really make a difference to your capillaries whether he meant it or not.” One finger of hers brushes an eyebrow— yowch— and she scowls. “They’re broken all to shit anyway. God, you’re gonna be lucky if that smile of yours isn’t permanently lopsided from this.”

Already was, but she didn’t ask for his medical history. “I’ll be roguish.”

“You’ll be in PT, that’s what you’ll be.” She pulls back with a cluck of her tongue. “Lucky as hell that he didn’t break your orbital. Ugh, or your nose. That would have been a bitch to set. And your cheekbones—”

A cough, timid for how deep it is, rustles outside the curtain. “Sorry,” Big Guy starts, all doleful hound dog eyes as Yuzuri pulls them back. “I didn’t want to, er, eavesdrop, but…”

He’s smarter than to say, but you told us not to leave. Not to someone like Yuzuri, who’s already ruby red from the collar of her scrubs to her headband, ready to crack out of her shell like a crab left too long in the pot.

“You…I…” She slides out right around him, never once turning her back. “G-go. Lay down. Or something! Ugh!”

Big Guy blinks once at her back before swinging those hound eyes back to him. “Is she—?”

“Embarrassed,” he agrees. Yuzuri’s always happy to share her opinions, up until she get caught. “Big time. She’ll recover. But until then it’ll be your fault.”

“Oh…” He winces, though Obi can hardly tell if it’s from the thought of Yuzuri’s ill-wishes, or the kick he landed on his hip, making what should be an easy walk a bit of a hobble. “I am sorry about that, you know.”

That lantern jaw juts itself toward him, or more specifically, the shiner painted up one side. “This old thing? Don’t worry about it. Got worse from a mosquito.”

If Big Guy is impressed with his bravado, he’s got a funny way of showing it, looking all hangdog like that. “I just…I didn’t really mean to…”

Fuck you up is what the big guy can’t bring himself to say. It’s probably rude to tell him, I’ve had worse.

“No hard feelings, Major.” It’s half a laugh, half a groan as he hauls himself up his pillows, every muscle aching. “I did tell you not to go easy on me.”

A grimace is what he gets in reply, and a pained, “Still…”

The you didn’t know what you were getting into hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Like maybe he’s never fought a guy above his weight class. Like he’s never stood in front of a boy a third again his age, watching his knuckles crack beneath the cloth of his binds.

More like he doesn’t know how much he can mean it, a grim mouth huffs humorlessly. He will though. Give him a few months.

“Didn’t really expect you to try to kill me, though.” For a moment, he’s not quite sure who he’s talking to. He rubs at his jaw, pain scintillating beneath his palm, and, haah, yeah, he knows what fist laid a kiss on this cheek alright. “Damn, no wonder kaiju don’t walk away from you.”

“I wasn’t try to…” It’s funny watching a mountain hunch like that, shoulders riding up again his ears making him a whole range instead a single peak. “With someone who moves like you, there’s only two sure ways to win. I went with the one that relied on power. Wasn’t going to land many hits on you but had to make the ones I did count.”

“And then did too good a job.” That’s the thing with having a body that shares more in common with a jaeger’s chassis than human flesh; the fall back option is to just do everything more and harder. Obi had met more than a few men like that in his time, but none of them so friendly. “I gotta admit though, Big Guy, you got me curious. What’s the other way?”

Big lungs heave big sighs, and oh, this one feels like it could take a few trees with it before he settles back against the headboard. “Tire you out. Quick guys typically don’t have a lot of stamina when things drag on, so—”

“All right, all right, don’t let the ladies hear that one.” Or most of the men while he’s at it, even if Obi’s personal tastes tend more toward the techs tending the tin cans than the bodies they throw in them. “Don’t want anyone to get the idea that I can’t keep up off the mat either.”

That won’t be much of a problem. It’s rare to hear advice from that corner of his mind, but Buma’s habit always was to watch first and speak too late. Not with all the training you’ve done outside—

That’s Need To Know only. Obi casts a long glance over where giant feet nearly hang off the mattress. And I don’t think the Major needs to know.

“Anyways,” he huffs, the sort of quiet career boys get when they’re shy. “Sorry.”

“Aw, c’mon, Big Guy. I asked you to bring me a fight and you did! I’m hardly gonna blame you for that.” He turns his head, grinning at him across the poor excuse for a bedside table. “Besides, now I know what it’s like.”

Those puppy eyes blink, too innocent for a guy who could break him in half by breathing. “Hm? Do you mean—?”

His eyebrows lift —well, one of them tries to— enticingly. The wince probably doesn’t do him any favors. “Kissing your girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend.”

Oh, it’s a real treat to see a lantern jaw drop so hard it nearly shatters. Too bad Princess isn’t here to enjoy it. “What?”

“You know…” His fingers weave through some hazy dips and lazy dives. “I can see what was good between you and High Highness, or whatever. The way you’d could compensate for each other in the drift. But you and me” — his hand flicks between them— “we don’t fit.”

“Oh.” It’s a pleasure to watch his mouth wrap around that noise, to see him really wrangle with the meat of what his meaning. “Yeah. I get it. I think.”

“I mean, for one thing,” Obi says, so casual. “We’re both bottoms.”

“Come again?”

“Kidding, kidding.” Kind of, Sonisay hums, and oh, he could swear he feels that forked tongue flickering where she coils in his mind. I doubt he’d complain if that blonde woman took it into her head to—

Hey. Maybe if he had a mirror, he could give himself a warning look, the kind Doc was always giving him right before he took a joke too far. But instead he had to settle for just thinking louder, like trying to shout over a crowded bar. I still gotta talk to this guy with a straight face for the next twenty-four hours.

Sounds like, that too-familiar voice hums, a real personal problem.

It’s too bad Major Do-Right over there can’t hear the speculation of the peanut gallery; then he might no be so quick to let relief bring those shoulders relax, to settle back into those pillows with a sigh that speaks of a light conscience. What did Yuzuri say? If Obi doesn’t want to behave, he’ll drag you down with him…?

Well, he hates to disappoint.

“Or am I?” The cot nearly cracks down the middle from how fast the Big Guy turns on it, sputtering. Obi just tosses him a wink. “Don’t worry, Big Guy. I’m not the kind of girl who likes to kiss and tell.”

For all that their lovely nurse devotedly frets over the potential stupors they could slip into with even the slightest bit of shut eye, or sometimes even something like getting up too fast or breathing too easy, she’s sure eager to encourage them to piss all by their lonesomes one she’s sure they can make the walk.

“What, this doesn’t get you going?” Obi asks, peeking around the door. “I hear some people really get into—”

“I hear some people really don’t get jello at dinner,” she replies, shoving him bodily through the crack. “Wanna see if you’re one of them?”

“What if the stream’s too strong and I get vertigo?” He winces, hearing all those words echo in so small a space, but it’s worth it for the noise she makes outside the door. “What if I crack my head on the floor and get a double concussion?”

“Then at least you’ll be quiet.”

There’s a slam— a door. Not this one, the particle board so paper thin Big Guy could probably sneeze it off its hinges; but the heavier infirmary door, one meant to withstand a mortar shell, maybe even nuclear blast— but Obi doesn’t bother to bite back his grin. Maybe if he’s lucky, she’s run into Suzu on the way to the commissary and give him a full run down of all the ways she could make Obi’s death look like an accident. Some real romantic talk to keep a nerd warm at night.

With shake and a wriggle— how Big Guy managed to move around in here when his elbows keep cracking into the tile, Obi’ll never know— he wraps up his business, sauntering straight out onto the infirmary floor. With no kaiju to keep the place hopping, it’s dark, the only light coming from the lamp angled over Yuzuri’s desk, and from behind their ring of curtains. A nice way to find his way back; or at least it would be if he didn’t already count two shadows there: one hitched up on the bed, shoulder big enough to overflow the outline of the pillows, and the other—

The other’s standing, tall enough to make Big Guy seem normal sized, and radiating authority the same way the sirens do danger.

Ah, fuck. It’s the Marshal. Hide, a cacophony of whispers hiss, which— he’d love to, if there was a single goddamn place to do it.

“I take it this isn’t a social call.” Big Guy doesn’t have a deep voice, not the way the circumference of his chest would suggest, but he’s pitched it low now. Still too much to be contained by a curtain, though.

The Marshal cocks his head, wry. “Would you believe me if I said, ‘yes?’”

There’s a hesitation, a huff that might be something like humor. “No.”

“Then let’s not waste time pretending.” It might be a trick of the acoustics in this room, a little reverb on that tinny echo, but Obi could swear His Majesty sounds amused. “I’ve heard you’ve quite the rapport with our new ranger.”

Oh, hell. As if this isn’t the cherry on top of his shit sundae: not only is he stuck, standing right out in the open as the top brass talks Top Secret, he’s the topic they’re having tea over.

“News travels fast.”

“Danger of living in one of these little warrens.” The Marshal shrugs. “Rats like to chatter.”

Air hisses between Big Guy’s teeth, the way it did right before he threw his haymaker. “Not a lot of people eager to be on the wrong side of the mat from him. Not after the way he and Zen went at it the last time.”

“So you…what?” It’s uncanny how even the Marshal can make his voice; no inflection, no judgment, no answers. “Thought you’d help him keep his edge?”

“He asked.” There’s a rustle, a creak, and even though he can’t see it, he knows mountains are moving to make that shrug. “Not like I’ve got much to be afraid of.”

If one half of his face didn’t feel as ginger as the oldest wicker chair on some grandma’s patio, Obi might take some offense to that. That’s what you get for being so scrawny, a gruff voice scrapes over his ear, everyone underestimates you.

That, hums another, too pleased, is kind of the point.

“Good.” There’s something final in the way the Marshal says it, less like an observation, and more like an assessment. A test passed with much anticipated flying colors. “Keep doing that.”

Obi could cut the consternation in this room with a knife. “Excuse me, sir?”

“Was I not clear?” His Majesty’s tone conveys his confidence that he was. Maybe even too much so. “I’d like you to pursue this…relationship with our new colleague. Foster this tentative trust you have managed to build.”

Ha. Obi’s heart stutter hard enough— loud enough— that even the peanut gallery keeps their opinions to themselves. He should have known something like this would happen; sure, all the paperwork calls Hachimaru a failure, one that should have never flopped its way out of dry dock, but to someone like Izana Wisteria, well—

He’s got a reputation for ruthlessness for a reason. Enough of one that it escaped containment, slipping past the PDPC’s iron curtain of silence to spread around the streets of Sitka. Buildin’ a wall to keep the monsters out, one of the wallmen had chuckled over his pint, but no matter how high we do it, that one will still be in here.

Obi might have called that unfair, once. Sure, His Majesty wasn’t exactly a friendly guy, at least not with the rank and file, though there were magazines enough that showed him being chummy with the higher ups, but, well— pedigree might have put him in a pod, but it wouldn’t have pulled him a position so high above it. No, that only went to the corps' top minds, the ones who knew what it took out there to take your lumps and drag your metal coffin home. The ones who understood what they were asking when they dumped two men out into the Pacific and asked them to stop a natural disaster or die trying.

But if that guy is gonna meddle in his business like this, well, maybe once they finish building that wall, they can dump him over it. Lets the monsters sort it out between themselves. Knowing the Marshal, he’d still find a way to come out on—

“No.”

“No?” The way the Marshal wraps his mouth around the word sends shivers up his arms.

“I can’t do that. I mean, I won’t.” Big Guy snorts, like there’s a stench in the air he can’t quite get rid of. “I’d do a lot for you, sir, I would. Take a bullet. Die for the cause. But I’m not going to…to manipulate that man back into a jaeger for you. Not like this.”

A breath catches in Obi’s throat, nearly choking him. Big Guy’s got a heart of gold, but he can’t possibly be stupid enough to— to—

“Well well.” To his utter surprise, the Marshal laughs. “Good thing that’s not what I’m asking.”

Big Guy grunts. “Isn’t it?”

“If you couldn’t manage to convince my brother into the cockpit, I doubt you’ll have much luck with a man you barely know.” For how casually it’s said, there’s a bite to it, each word honed to sting. “I only meant that he’s not responding to the typically recommended course of therapy.”

Right. Because after that one session with Doc post-drift, all his peanut gallery clamoring to have their turn now that cat had clawed its way out of the bag, he hadn’t been able to drag himself back. And with all the dinners and hallway-run ins they’ve had since, Doc didn’t seem eager to sit him back down on her couch any time soon either.

“But he seems responsive to you, Major Lowen.” Or at least responsive to getting his shit kicked in, whatever that said about him. “Rangers are typically taciturn about their issues. I thought this route might be worth encouraging, since he seems amenable. Sometimes it’s easier for military men to discuss their problems with someone who has gone through the same ones. Especially” —Obi doesn’t need to see his smirk to know it’s there— “if they’re with the same person.”

Obi might not have stuck around under his dome once the dust settled, but he knew all about guys like Lowen. The regulation haircut, the closet full of BDUs, the fondness for field rations and boiled chicken— just a thin veneer of muscle and bravado over a reflex to ‘sir, yes, sir’ his way out of any problem more complex than picking which socks to put on in the morning. He might have stuck his neck out for something that twinged the weather vane that was his moral compass, but now that someone with stars and bars has explained to him that black is white, he’ll—

“That all?” Big Guy’s too nice to spit out the “sir?” but that little hitch before it, that small hesitation— well, sky writing would have been more subtle.

“Yes.” There’s no tone to that one either, no flavor. Just the implacable bite of subzero. “Unless, of course, there’s something you’d like to discuss?”

There shouldn’t be, his tone conveys, clear enough it could be heard in the hangar. Obi could swear he hears Big Guy’s teeth grind from here.

There’s a long stretch of silence, the kind that makes his skin itch.

“Just one thing, actually. Sir.” The bed creaks, and his shadow shifts, pulling straight. “Been noticing there’s a lot of hopefuls hanging around the past few months. Thought they might be clearing out now that all this business with Tyrannis is done.”

The Marshal hums, distant. “There’s hardly any rush, Major. A few sets of extra hands is always welcome.”

“Even when they don’t come with their own ride?”

For once, His Majesty hesitates. “Even then.”

“Even” —Big Guy almost savors his next words— “if they’re Hisame Lugis?”

“Dangerous times makes strange bedfellows.” The Marshal laughs, sour. “Especially ones like Hisame Lugis. Now if you don’t mind” — the curtain pulls aside— “I think our friend might like to use his bed. Isn't that right, Major?”

Ha, a voice tingles in his ear, busted.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #pacific rim au #my fic #ans #there is something about this arc in this fic where i keep thinking i'll never have enough words #and then I get there and I have to move like at least one or two major scenes to another chapter #and POV!#but this one was less of a surprised because all of the peanut gallery was added in on the second draft #which changed a LOT of Obi's narration #and made him more introspective than I usually keep him #I think next chap is a Shirayuki chap #and is possibly more shippy. BUT WE WILL SEE

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thecatwhogrins · 4 years

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Peacetime part 5 (WWII AU)

5 days later

Shirayuki paced the medical tent, anxious to the bone.

This morning, although she did not understand everything, she had heard that a spy had been caught in the German Camp. Soldiers were restless, feeding her anxiety, until she thought she might start screaming. She tried her best to concentrate on her work but despite all of her efforts, her mind kept going back to Obi. The doctor was even more cross with her than usual, almost throwing in his towel several times.

Shirayuki was miserable.

When her shift ended, she wiped her brow and tried to devise a plan to make sure Obi hadn’t been caught. The problem layed in the fact that she didn’t know where to find him. After their last encounter, he had vanished, without giving her any means to communicate with him. Her only way to figure it out would be to go snoop around and listen to conversations while trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. A very hard feat since everyone in the camp knew her and despised her. Her red hair was also hard to miss.

Shirayuki grabbed a basin full of dirty water and marched out of the tent, determination sustaining her. She advanced towards a gaggle of nurses and pretended to wash the basin. The nurses glared at her, as per usual, but she didn’t mind. Instead, she strained her ears to grasp any information she could with her rudimentary German. Most of the conversation was useless, mostly complaints about the weather, and the men, etc. Shirayuki was about to give up when Obi’s name stopped her in her tracks.

“I knew that man was suspicious as soon as he turned up here!” one nurse said.

“Yes, he has a very dangerous look about him, he sent shivers down my spine,” another said.

Shirayuki inched closer, clutching the soaping wash basin.

“Well, he is truly dashing in a certain way,” the last one said, giggling. The other nurses laughed, but there was an undercurrent to their mirth.

“He’s caught now, anyway. Good riddance,” the first one spat.

Shirayuki almost dropped the basin, splashing her clothes with soapy water.

The other nurses stopped talking and stared at her disdainfully.

“Are you a spy too?” asked the first nurse venomously.

Shirayuki couldn’t answer, she simply shook her head and turned away, fear gripping her heart like a claw. What could she do? What were the next steps to take in order to help him? She felt nauseous.

Her resolve took over and she tried to draw up a plan.

Obi was gasping for air, bound to a chair, one eye swollen shut and the other struggling to stay open. He coughed, his throat felt like it was full of gravel and damn, he’d give anything for some water. He was in one of the commanding officer’s tents that had been hastily transformed into an interrogation area. A sole lamp hung from above, barely illuminating the tent and one table stood on his right with a bloody rag. Probably from their last endeavor to break him.

He knew he should have been more careful, seen the danger coming, but he had been so close to his goal, he had slipped up. His regret was too little, too late. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and he had survived worse torture methods, but this time, his hopes of getting out were slim, paper thin.

Obi couldn’t tell what time it was, but judging by the amount of light outside, it was getting late. He tested the strength of the rope binding him. It seemed that whoever had done the handy work had been very careful and had bound him tightly enough that his blood circulation was almost cut off.

Almost.

He gritted his teeth and tried to see if he could loosen things up a little, when suddenly a sound outside of the tent had him freeze up, his good eye wide, pupil dilated and heart pounding out of his chest. He tried to relax his shoulders, closed his eye, pretending to be still be unconscious.

“Obi?” a soft voice whispered.

Shirayuki.

He hoped she wouldn’t try to help him. He opened his eye and observed her small trembling form, her eyes full of fear but also determination. He yearned to hold her in his arms, even now, in this abject situation.

“What are you doing? If you get caught…” Obi whispered quickly, fearing for his friend.

“We have to get out of here, Obi,” Shirayuki murmured fervently. She looked almost exactly the same as the night she had pulled him out of the stormy night and into the tent, bringing him back to life, exhausted but so strong. The look on her face fascinated Obi, for some reason. He wished he could capture her expression in that moment, but she marched towards him and the moment was over.

She pulled out a pair of scissors and cut his bonds as fast as she could. Obi hissed in pain when the blood flow in his wrists resumed. Shirayuki helped him up and he tried his best to not weigh to hard on her shoulders. They limped outside of the tent, in pitch darkness. They both knew that if they were to be caught, they’d be executed on the spot. Shirayuki tried to stifle her heavy breathing, the sound of it in the silence was deafening. Every step was torture, every sound an enemy.

This reminded her of the night she had found him, dragging his half-dead body to the medical tent. She had been stronger then, not as afraid. But she knew that in this moment, Obi needed her, and she’d be there for him.

They finally were almost at the tree line that led into the forest near the encampment. A man stood facing the trees and Shirayuki halted, Obi half-conscious, but wary nonetheless.

The man turned around and it was Doctor Forzeno, he probably was there to relieve himself. He peered at them, eyes squinting against the choking darkness.

“Miss Shirayuki?” he finally asked, curious.

“It’s me, Doctor,” Shirayuki swallowed, her mouth drier than the Saharan desert.

“Who’s with you? Are you…” he didn’t finish his sentence, as he swiftly realized who she was holding up with all her strength.

There was a tense silence as Shirayuki waited for him to alert the whole camp.

But nothing.

“Go,” he whispered.

Shirayuki couldn’t believe it. She feared it might be a trap of some sort. The moonlight lit the doctor’s grim but resolute face.

“Are… are you also a spy?” Shirayuki asked, hesitant.

“No, I am not. But I’ve seen you work these past few days, and I can say without a doubt that you are very gentle and kind. This is not a path I wish to take. I swore an oath to not hurt other people when I became a doctor. This is me keeping that oath,” he whispered hurriedly.

“Now go, before they come!” he helped readjust Obi and made sure no one saw them enter the woods.

Shirayuki didn’t look back.

Shirayuki kept walking for what seemed like hours, only stopping when her legs gave out.

Obi fell to the ground next to her, unconscious. Shirayuki gasped and dragged him to a tree to prop him up. She didn’t know what time it was; she didn’t know where they were or how far they were from the camp. She could barely see her own hands, let alone Obi’s prone body. Desperation filled her up like an overflowing cup of water and she felt tears spill over. She muffled her sobs into her fist and tried to think about their next move, but her mind was muddled.

“Shirayuki?” Obi whispered softly, his voice almost overshadowed by the rustling of the wind in the trees.

She couldn’t answer, her voice was too thick with tears. She was shivering from the cold and the adrenaline leaving her body.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, I’ve gotten out of worse situations,” she could almost hear that snarky grin.

She sat next to him, unable to see him, fumbling around to finally touch his fingers, interlocking them with hers. His hands were colder than what she was used to and gloveless. She could feel every ridge of each scar he bore. She wished she could memorize them, know them by heart.

“Obi…” Shirayuki’s voice cracked, soft as a bird’s wing.

“Hmm?” his was even softer, exhaustion sapping the remnants of consciousness.

“Kiss me, please,” Shirayuki hoarsely whispered.

Obi was alert at once, thinking he had heard wrong. But he could feel her head turning, the slivers of dappled moonlight illuminating the bridge of her nose, a quarter of her eyes, the crescent of her lips, like a shadow puppet show. It was dark so they fumbled, her lips brushing the corner of his. His hands hovered over the contours of her frame, finding her waist, her arms, her shoulders and the nape of her neck and then they found each other in the smothering darkness. Lips against lips, harsh ragged breaths, fear and hunger fueling their fire and Shirayuki found that she wasn’t as cold anymore. It was a strange sensation, to kiss in the dark, like criminals, like prey. She pressed closer, so much closer, his hand finding her waist again, his lips moving against hers chapped but so were hers, she didn’t care. She only cared about the feeling of his arms around her.

She wanted it to never end.

#obiyukikissdraft #obiyukikissathon #I only managed one with my finals coming up Yet #please enjoy my meagre offering #obiyuki #ans #ans snow white with the red hair #snow white with the red hair

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sabraeal · 1 year

Note

For fic writer asks: 💘, 🎉,🎈,🕯,🎙and 💌!!

💘Is there any posted fic you want to rework/re-edit/re-write?

I've been thinking about this the past few days, and I think my biggest "oh I'd love to go back and rework this" is A Lion to Terrify the Wolves. We have so much more plot to work with now that Shirayuki's started doing the Northern diplomacy bits of the story, stuff I could really dig into especially if we get some good info from this next arc with Zen & Izana's uncle. Plus it was a fic mostly cobbled together from prompts during my second prompt-a-thon, so actually sitting down and giving it the long form treatment I like to give my multichaps would be nice.

🎉how often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? how often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post?

I post regularly so I don't really stop to reflect all that much before moving onto the next thing. It's a little different when I finish a multi-chap-- I definitely give myself a good pat on the back then.

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

Oh, definitely changes according to what the fic needs. Completely dependent on setting and POV.

🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

I've definitely said this before, but All That Remains consistently is the biggest labor of love out of any of my fics, especially the chapters in the palace (which is just about all of them right now). The structure is a pain to keep track of, the actual prose is difficult, and the subject matter is definitely hard to write about. I love it SO MUCH but I always have to put my whole head into it.

🎙️which one of your fics would you like someone to make a pod-fic of?

I've going to be so basic about this because I think it's the one that would be in highest demand, but Seven Suitors for Shirayuki. It's complete, it's popular, and I'm sure people would have fun with it

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

I'm currently working on a new AU as a gift and I have completely thrown out my original plan of a fight scene to add more Lilias crew stuff and I can already tell I'll have no regrets. Now all I have to do if figure out what POV I'm working in 🤣

#asks #meme #fic meme #i think i consistently want to rewrite the whole series leading up to truth in masquerade/desert and reward #just because it's all so plot heavy #I'm SO tempted to start in on the 'early' fics in that series i've been afraid to write #since the manga is on hiatus and it is the PERFECT TIME for the mice to play #but i have a feeling it's going to pick back up in the summer and I'm really not going to have any time to work on that sort of stuff #until after obiyukiweek #DEEP SIGH

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bubblesthemonsterartist · 6 years

Note

hi!! i would really love Obi's POV from the end of chapter 8 of FRAGMENTS (your writing is amazing congrats on the 200!!!)

The gray stones of Lyrias rise up before them, born from ice and snow and bathed in cold sunlight. It’s a lonely place, out here by itself, it’s architecture meant to impose rather than welcome.

Mistress Haki once told him that it used to be an avenue for the most bloodthirsty of Princes; one where general’s talked easily among nobility about things such as collateral damage and acceptable losses. No one remembers when that changed, only that after the Wars it became home to a different sort of insanity: Academia.

It has only been a few weeks, but Obi is surprised to find that he has missed it dearly.

Filling his chest with stinging air, he takes a step forward, leading their beleaguered animals just a little further, just a little bit more, through the snowdrifts. A tug of his hand holds him back.

Pausing, he glances over his shoulder where Miss stands stock still, staring up at ramparts and banners framing the scholars kingdom. Her face is down turned in a perplexed frown.

He licks his chapped lips, nerves strumming along the curve of his spine, and runs his gloved thumb across the ridge of her knuckles.

She blinks, lowering her eyes to his and his heart skips a step. She’s gauging him. His Miss, who’s her heart usually barely tethers to her sleeve, is considering him. If he thought for a second that she wouldn’t chase him if he ran, he would do so now. But he’s here, at her mercy and-

He thinks about the distance between here and the main gate and how there is plenty of times to renegotiate this if she needs it. If she wants to change her mind. He would understand. The thought that someone as bloodstained and brutal as he could spend more than a passing moment in her presence is laughable. Unrealistic. Fanciful, even, no matter how many pretty words she gave him.

These last few weeks of kisses, soft and hidden away in the deep of the forest, of gentle caresses that he could find sanctuary in- they were enough. More than enough.

Swallowing, he makes to pull away-

-and her hand tightens about his, her face spreading in a gentle smile that melts away the cold.

“Come on, Obi,” she says, so soft. “Let’s go home.”

~ ~ ~

In the bustle of the midday rush, the city is jarring in comparison to the isolation of their return journey. Merchants cry out their wares, food sizzles temptingly from market stalls, and carriages creak by under the weight of their load. It’s a maddening burn across his nerves to be exposed like this; it would be easier to stand in the middle of the city square, stark naked, that this anticipatory wait.

When was someone going to notice? When were they going to call him out? When were they going to confront him, pulling Miss away and into their protection, screaming how he has no business walking alongside his Mistress like she’s- like she’s his?

“Sir Obi!”

His hand snaps up, heart in his throat and he narrows his eyes against the glare of the sun. A gaggle of soldiers press dangerously against the stone embankment of the ramparts; one of them is pointing.

“What is this?”

His hand burns guiltily in hers, his voice struggling to find words that match the harmlessness of his role. It takes him a moment longer than it should, the gears of his mind groaning, and he wants to make a joke or drag his hand away or-

Miss squeezes his fingers tight in a vice, lifting their joined hands as high as she can so everyone can see. “What does it look like?” she calls back in challenge.

He stares.

Whistles echo down off the walls, a cheerful jubilance that he- he had not been expecting. Like they were happy about this. Miss’s face has gone a harsh shade of red that hides the faint spray of freckles across her nose, but she doesn’t release his hand. If anything she looks… pleased.

“Obi! Shirayuki!”

He blinks rapidly, his eyes protesting his neck as he turns his gaze across the courtyard towards an ambling colt of a boy running awkwardly towards them. He almost trips over his own feet.

“Little Ryuu!” Obi greets with a shaky smile. “Long time no– Uff!”

Miss squeaks and the air is knocked out of him, two arms stronger than they rightly should be wrapping around him and Miss.

Ryuu is breathing too fast for a run.

“I missed you too, buddy,” Obi wheezes, arms pinned to his side.

Then, without preamble, the arms banding around them both are gone, his ribs expanding the way they should.

“Ryuu,” Miss coughs. “Is there something-?”

“-sorry,” Ryuu mutters, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and hiding there. “Sorry. I was just- Word got back that you both were attacked and got hurt and we didn’t know how badly or why and neither of you wrote and I was- I was just-”

“Ryuu,” Miss breathes, laying a hand on his arm and pushing it down. Ryuu’s eyes shimmer like a frozen lake in the sunlight. “It’s okay. We’re okay. Obi’s ribs are still a little bruised, but other than that, it’s forgotten.”

Obi doesn’t think that he would go as far to say that, but Ryuu doesn’t need to know the terror tattooed in his veins the moment he realized just how foolish his Miss could be- how lacking her self-preservation was.

Ryuu sniffs, looking over at him apologetically. “I’m sorry- I should have grabbed you like-”

“Ahh,” Obi grins. “It’s nothing to think about. I’ve had worse than a hug.”

Ryuu frowns and ah- He recognizes that look. “You need to be more careful.”

There’s something wrong with his chest when he and Miss talk to him like that. “What would the fun in that be?”

“I mean it!” his voice cracks, and now the mist at the corner of his eyes are gone. “You- both of you- you can’t-”

Miss steps in, wrapping her arms around him. When did she become so small standing next to the boy?

Obi swallows down the knot in his throat. “Ryuu,” he says again. “It was just a little group of bandits. You’re not going to get rid of us that easy.”

Ryuu glares.

“Obi,” Miss’s voice is soft, steel wrapped in ermine. “Come here.”

He shuffles uncertainly, more awkward that he remembers being in his entire life.

“Obi.”

He takes a tentative steps towards the both of them, arms lying lightly on their shoulders. Miss pulls his arms to wrap around them both more fully.

“Ryuu,” she whispers into this little private circle in the middle of the market. “We’ll do our best to stay with you as long as we can.”

Ryuu starts shaking. “I was scared…”

“We were, too,” she admits softly. “But we’re here now. And we are safe. That’s what matters.”

“You know I was serious, right? When I made you both dinner?”

These two were going to kill him. “Yea,” Obi says, leaning more fully into them. “Yea, we know.”

“So you know- You can’t-”

Obi leans in, fingers wrapping in a matted mop of hair, and tilts him so he can kiss the crown of his head. “We’re not going anywhere. We said it before, didn’t we?”

Ryuu looks up at him.

“We want to follow you,” Obi smiles. “That means we nothing is allowed to happen.”

#bubbleswrites #obiyuki #melt #fragments #happy fam #i sorta already wrote two fics directly following chapter 8 #so i hope you'll accept this thing that's been simmering on the backburner instead #another-miracle #200 followers prompts

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bubblesthemonsterartist · 6 years

Note

Okay prompt for the Ever After verse if you're still taking them: the first time after leaving that Obi lets himself really cry in front of Shirayuki. This whole thing had to be hurting him too, and I have this twisted penchant for seeing him in pain if it means he's letting her comfort him

The air is touchedwith death when they finally reach Llbersi.

It stings her lungs, chapping her lipsraw and blurring her vision. With theway frost coats their clothing, icicles dangling from fur and mane and hairalike, she’s never been more grateful to be on the edge of civilization.

Pillars of gray blocked their view fordays, never allowing them to see more than a stones throw ahead, and the crumbling towers reaching for the stars and sun confounded themmore than any green forest ever did. It was only Ryuu, his compass, and Nergüi thathad given them any sense of direction.

Obi tucks into himself – not shiveringbut unbearably silent – while Nohai trembles violently in the circle of Ryuu’sarms. The tight quarters of the stone forest put them more on edge than she thought was possible.

In the distance, right between twilight and nightfall, thenight hunters raise their voice in a haunting call.

“Ahh!” Obi starts them out of their tensesilent, arching his back and looking down upon the town as fires are set to the wild call. “Finally a soft bed.”

“And a bath.” Ryuu’s voice is muffled andrough. “We stink.”

How he smells them through the thrice wrappedscarf around his face, she doesn’t know.

“Let’s hurry before they close the gates.”

~ ~ ~

“I’ll need to take care of a few things whilewe’re here.”

Shirayuki’s head snaps up, her bags just laidout at the foot of the bed. “What about the baths?”

Obi’s smile is tense around the eyes. “Ah,” herubs the back of his neck. “I’ll just… take a bucket shower or something. No need to waste money.”

“It’s freezing,”she protests. “And you love hot springs.”

He winces, grabbing for his shoulder through the thick of his parka that he has not yet removed. “I’m not too partial to them here.”

Shirayuki frowns. From what she has seen, the baths here were not too different from Lyrias. People gave her a little more berth, sure, and Nohai was still so skittish that she never came wi-

Oh. Oh.

“Maybe I can have a private bath sent up,” shetries, urgency pounding in her chest. How could she be so inconsiderate to the both of them? “And we can… take advantage. Of thisroom. Maybe even-” she swallows, lowering her voice. “-maybe we can even leave late tomorrow.”

“Don’t do that.”

So rarely has his words been so clipped, voice been so stern andShirayuki licks her lips, flinching at the sting. “Don’t do what?” she lilts, biting into raw skin. “Don’t sendfor a bath?”

Obi’s throat tenses and strains in tandem withthe set of his jaw, looking not at her but the tiny window sheened with ice onthe other side of the room. “Don’t… offer yourself like that. I don’t need youto-” His hand curls into a fist, air blowing out of him in a rush. “I’m fine. I just need to check with thelocals about the surrounding area. If we are going to visit the Mountain coven,I need to know which path is safe.”

“You can do that tomorrow,” she begs. “I’ll gowith you.”

I’llstay at your side so I know you’re safe.

He looks back at her, softening his expression.“I’ll be back before you know it,” he winks. “Enjoy the hot springs for me. I promiseI won’t smell like a horse when I get back.”

~ ~ ~

The night wears on and she stands vigil overit, staring out into the city, worrying her lower lip until she tastes copper.

A hand appears under her nose, a small jarcradled in the palm of a pale hand.

“Thank you,” she whispers, taking it from Ryuuand dabbing the balm across her lips. It burns.

“You should be taking better care of yourself,”he says quietly, standing next to her in thick robes.

She manages a weak grin. “I know.”

“You’re too much alike in that way. It makes me worry.”

She ducks her head. “I’m sorry.”

The silence stretches out, the villagedarkening as the hours past nightfall lengthen and she bunches the cloth of herown robes between her fingers.

She didn’t like it when he disappeared beforethey came to this place, before they left Lyrias even, but now that she knowswhat the marks on his legs may mean to others, how he had been so silently contentious of it without concerning them, makes her nervous,makes her anxious, makes the moments where she can’t hear his voice all themore worse.

What if his legs were somehow exposed to thewrong person and they took him?

“He’ll be fine.”

Shirayuki blinks rapidly, hands flexing. “Weshould go look for him.”

Ryuu levels her with a patientexpression. “I’m sure Obi knows the dangers better than all of us. He’llbe back soon.”

* * *

He can’t feel his toes. He can’t feel his limbs. He’s not even sure he can feel his skin until the heat of the inn blasts him full to the face when he trudges in. The keep eyes him and his nods once, succinct, walking past him.

The tension in his neck diminishes but does not disappear when he ascends the stairs to the upper rooms, joints cracking as if they themselves got ice between them. Gods, he had forgotten all the differentways one’s blood could freeze. His very bones groan and ache like an old shipagainst the moors, and oh how he wishes he could have joined them in the baths, but at least his hand are warm, heated by a fresh loaf ofsweet bread that will bring a smile to Miss’s face if nothing else.

His lips curve, slipping silently into their room.

“Where have you been?”

Obi blanches, feet weighing themselves to theground. He stares into the dark, but in this pitch even he can only guess whereshe is by the direction of her voice.

“Sorry,” he breathes, shifting awkwardly. “I must have losttrack of time.”

“You lost-” she exhales noisily, a matchstriking flint and illuminating the dark. Her face is stern and sharp in thelantern light. “You lost track of time?” she bites, sitting up and pushing offthe covers.

He swallows, his throat thick with words and he wonders if he can run with his joints so stiff. “Yea.”

“I’ve- we’ve been worried sick!” As she comes closer, he can see the red around her eyes. “What were you evendoing? Don’t you think I would worry?”

He licks his lips, his tongue stuck. It had been- it had been years since he had been scolded about this. Since Master- since Zen spoke to him and it had stuck… up until it didn’t. Up until he had been let off his leash.

People get worried when you aren’t where you’re supposed to be.

It’s hard to make his mouth work the way hewants. “I- Um.”

She rubs her face.“All I could think of was that something happened to you. That someone had seenyour scars and had taken you or even worse and I don’t- I can’t- I know this isn’t the same as Clarines wherewe had a home, but-”

The same goes for me.

He had forgotten this rule between them, but it’s as if the years have disappeared into mere moments the way memory hits him.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, helplessly.

“That’s all you haveto say. You’re sorry?”

If you understand, don’t make me come looking for you again.

…how easy was it to forget that people had once considered him the same way he considers them.

She marches over tohim. “You’re— Oh.”

The blood drains from her face, painting herpristine white in the dark. He doesn’t know what made her look at him likethat.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back when I said Iwould.” The words are just gasps and he closes his eyes to hide from her face.“I won’t do it again.”

“Obi- I didn’t- Oh, no. I didn’tmean-“ Sleep warm hands cup his face. “I didn’t mean it like that. Ididn’t mean to make you— Oh!”

Her palms flatten under his eyes, and when hiseyes open again, his vision is blurry.

Oh. Oh, he didn’t know he was-

“It’s fine, it’sfine,” he says, rearranging his face into something else. Something that wouldcover the fact that he is leaking. “It’s not a problem-”

“Obi-”

His eyes can’t focus on her anymore. Theycan’t seem to focus on anything. His hands are empty, numb, and he doesn’t know where his surprise has gone until he blinks and finds it laying on the floor. It’s fine, it’s fine. “I, um. I’ve gotta- I’ve gotta go dosomething. I-“

Her arms shoot out, a light weight pressingagainst his front, and oh- oh. His chest feels so tight he doesn’t know if he can even breathe.

He can feel her breath through his layers, so hot it burns his heart. “I’m so sorry, Obi.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” He pats hernumbly, tries to pull away. She holds tighter.

“Please,” his voice sounds so strange. “I need to go.”

She shakes her head against his chest. “No.Not this time. I won’t let you.”

It’s selfish of him. It’s selfish of him to beso taken by such a small thing.

It had only been a year. Just a single year ofbeing alone again, but he already forgot what it meant to have people who werewaiting for him. That someone might care about his absence and what it mightmean if he were to never come back.

“Miss-” he chokes.

“Shirayuki.”

The sound that rips out of him is shameful andhe struggles against her arms, wanting to fly from the room and find a secretand cold space to curl up in and die. Anything would be better than admitting that he wants this.

He should have known she would reveal him for what he was. After all, she has always been stronger than enemy or secret that stood in her way.

“You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” hehears somewhere near his ear. “Let me help. Let me be there for you, too.”

His knees give out, dragging them both down andshe pulls him tight until he is wrapped in layers and layers of soft and sweetand clean.

“I’ve been so worried,” she whispers, so faraway even though he can feel her heart beating under his ear, can feel hands solight they tickle across his back, his face. He claws at her nightgown, desperate for an anchor in this storm. “You carry your hurt soquietly and I never know how to draw it out.”

“There-” he hiccups, throat too thick and breath too shallow to formwords. He hides himself against warmth and softness. “There’s nothing- I didn’t- You lost-”

Her lips press against the crown of his head.“I did,” she whispers fiercely. “But so did you.”

He thinks he’s going to be sick. Turn out allof his organs across the floor at her feet. But all that comes out is a child’s sob.

“I’ll stay here,” shemurmurs, fingers combing through his hair. Her clothes are wet against his face. “I’ll be here as long as you need. And then the next day, and the next day, and the next day, too.”

#bubbleswrites #watchtower #ever after #obiyuki #happy fam #asterose018 #200 followers prompts #set pre-miscarriage

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bubblesthemonsterartist · 7 years

Text

If Not For You, Then For No One Else

An Excerpt

Shirayuki holds on for dear life.

Another bullet whips by her head, clinking against the metal of a nearby car. A loud boom reverberates across the highway, tires screeching and Obi makes a hard left, narrowly avoiding the car careening into them. A loud crunch resounds behind them and he kicks it up two gears.

They accelerate rapidly, her stomach turning as it tries to keep up and the rain plasters her hair to her face and neck, wrapping it around her eyes. She shakes her head and looks back. There are still two left.

The engine roars, the seat sliding between her bare legs and clenches as to not slide of the bike. Turning back, her eyes widen just as he approaches a clot of cars. They’re going to crash. She cannot hear her scream as he swerves, sliding between two of them so close that sparks fly. Squeezing her eyes shut, buries her face against his back and holds him until her knuckles pop, horns overpowering the whistles of gunshots. He breaks out and turns hard, tires sliding with a loud squeal against wet pavement and he pulls out in front of a semi, weaving across lanes of traffic to overcome it and ride the meridian alongside it on the other side.

She looks down and sees nothing but a straight drop to the water several dozen meters below.

She’s positive that she’s going to vomit.

One hand wraps around hers where they are fisted against his front and squeezes. She looks up and can only see the line of his jaw and the way his hair is flat against his head, but his palm is warm against her white knuckles and she relaxes, leaning her forehead against his spine and squeezing his hand back.

It was going to be fine. He would get them out of this mess. He always had before.

He lets her go.

~ ~ ~

Five minutes later, they are taking the exit into the warehouse district, following in the shadow of the eighteen-wheeler until they are out of eyeshot of the overpass. Turning, Obi maneuvers them down empty streets and unkept roads, the engine rumbling loudly between the pillars of tin before stopping in front of one building in more disarray than the others. She peeks up from around his jacket: Windows are broken and spray paint decorates its walls.

Abandoned, then.

Shirayuki slides off the motorcycle with wobbly legs, pulling her bunched skirt to her knees and smoothing it while looking at the warehouse. Behind her, Obi groans, and when she turns to look at him, he’s gripping his leg to pull it over the body of the motorcycle. Paling, she looks down at the material of her skirt, a bright blossom of red smeared across it.

“Obi—”

He grimaces, forcing a smile in her direction. “Just a minute, ojou-san.”

He voice is gentle, pleading, and she bites her tongue as he limps towards the side entrance, leaning hard against the wall next to the door and pulling something out of his back pocket. Within minutes, he works the lock open with a click and swings the door open into an ill-lit interior.

“After you,” he gestures, pushing himself up.

“But Obi-!”

He passes her, limping back to the motorcycle and attempting to push up the kick stand. She rushes to him, lifting it and running to the other side to help him move the bike towards the open door. He lifts his eyes to her, but doesn’t say a word.

They manage to squeeze the thing through the open door, doing the best that they can to hide all traces of them from the outside world, but the moment they pass through, he lets the machinery drop to the floor with a loud crash. She yelps, jumping back to avoid it crushing her legs. “It’s nearly out of gas,” he wheezes, swaying now that he has nothing more to do.

She’s there in an instant, sliding under his shoulder and taking more of his weight than she cares to.

He’s shivering.

This is bad.

“Where were you shot?” she demands.

He grimaces, air fogging from between his lips and grabs ahold of the nearest pillar before pulling himself from her. He sinks down onto his knees.

“No, no. Don’t--” Obi flips over and settles back onto the filthy floor. “Obi, it’s dirty. You could get your wound infected and-.”

He laughs grimly, squeezing his leg, and just now she can see where the fabric has split against his thigh. “Not my main concern right now.”

~ ~ ~

Thunder rumbles outside, the rain pounding on the roof as she tears the hem of her skirt, bunching the fabric and pressing it to the open wound. If he makes a noise, she doesn’t hear it. At their sides, their phones lay drenched and useless, and her eyes blur angrily when red oozes between her fingers. She can’t even use his pants to cover his lower legs. They’re too wet.

“Hold this,” she instructs without looking up before leaning back to tear another long strip of cloth from her dress and tying it down. She listens harder this time for any noise. The fact that he is so quiet is scaring her. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

He coughs, and there he is. “I thought you were a doctor.”

She looks up, mortified at how blurry he is and when she blinks, twin trails of heat slide down her face. “I’m still on rotation,” she chokes, his blood sticky between her fingers. “And you need a hospital. There’s so much blood…”

He shakes his head weakly. “There’s GPS on you.”

Her heart skips a beat, too hopeful to be enraged. “What? Where?”

He smiles slowly and tilts his head towards her. “In your hair.”

Shirayuki blinks, her brows furrowed and she reaches up until her hands come into contact with- “The hairpin?”

Obi looks infinitely pleased. “Can’t have your running off where I can’t find you, can I?”

Her face pulls flat, pulling tight in the fabric wrapping his thigh. He groans.

“We need to reduce the bleeding,” she say. “I don’t have the equipment you need here, but I can temporarily solve the problem at least. How long do you think it will take them to find us?”

Obi’s head thuds against the structure behind him, eyes closed. “The gun fight will definitely be trending,” he admits. “Boss knew where we were. He can put two and two together.”

Shirayuki wraps the tie a second time, twisting it tight and trying to ignore the way he chokes back noise. She glances up at him, apologetic. “Then we just need to sit tight, don’t we?”

~ ~ ~

Wind rips through the high windows, rattling the broken glass as the storm picks up. Whatever daylight they had was fading fast.

At her side, Obi’s breath is labored and shallow, the concrete beneath him stained dark. It’s been over an hour and she’s can do nothing for him but press close, trying to give him her scant warmth.

Where were they? They were maybe 30 minutes from the main property. Her father and Zen at the very least would send out a search team and then—

She freezes, looking back at Obi.

“…there’s no GPS,” she breaths.

Obi cracks open his eye. “Hmm?”

Panic rises. “There’s no GPS, is there?”

A weak smile cracks his pale lips and he closes his eyes again. “Gotcha.”

Her eyes flood with water. This wasn’t a joke. “Obi-!”

“No, please don’t,” he gasps, his free hand coming to curl around her shoulder, pulling her back to him. “I’m your bodyguard, remember? It’s my job to keep you safe.”

She shakes her head, tears pouring from her eyes and she reaches up, lacing her fingers through his hair and pulling herself onto her knees beside him.

She can only catch a faint glimmer of gold before his lips are under hers, cool and a little chapped but ultimately forgiving as she flutters hers over them. Her fingers trace along the edge of his cheeks, tilting her head and she tastes the salt from her own tears against his mouth.

He is still beneath her.

His eyes are closed when she pulls back, and he licks his lips before slowly dragging his eyes open. They are soft, too soft, and he raises his bloody hand towards her slowly, flinching back and letting it drop to the ground when he is mere inches from her face. “I’m sorry, ojou-san…”

She sniffs, nodding. “I- it’s okay,” she stammers, her hands working down over his arms. She feels flushed with humiliation. Why did she do that? She knows better than to-

He goes heavy, his head coming down hard against her shoulder and she panics.

“No, no. Obi, no!” she yells, scrambling to push him upright. She grabs for his wrists, checking for his pulse and forces herself still while she waits. It’s still there—thready and weak—but there. Pushing herself up, she adjusts him until he is lying flat on the dirty ground and she pries open his eyelids. His pupils are wide and dilated.

Setting him back down, she swallows and pulls her hands back. They’re shaking. They never shake. If she was going to be a surgeon, they need to not shake.

Something hard taps against her knees and her eyes snap down to the opening of his jacket. There, cradled against his side, is his gun. Swallowing, she reaches down, prying it carefully from its holster. In his grip, it had always looked natural, like an extension of his body. In her own small hands, it is huge, unwieldy.

What is she doing?

She lets out a noise that sounds like a desperate animal, looking at his pallid and sweating face and then towards the closed door. He needs help. She would- she would get it for him. She would get them both help.

She turns back.

“You stay here, Obi,” she whispers fiercely, leaning down to tap her forehead against his. His breath is too shallow. “Don’t you dare go anywhere. You don’t have my permission to leave.”

He doesn’t answer.

~ ~ ~

The door slams behind her, and she latches it shut, looking around wildly for any sign of civilization. The rain soaks through her thin dress again, drenching her to the bone. There’s no sign of humanity, no hope for safekeeping; everything around her is empty and abandoned. Shivering, she looks towards the sky and sees the bright flash of lightning arcing towards the outline of the skyscrapers of Tokyo in the distance.

Hands clenching around the grip of the gun, she sets her jaw and runs, sandals smacking against wet concrete.

She would protect him this time.

She had to.

#obiyukibingo #mob au #obiyuki #gun violence #there's a lot going on here that is unseen #but she is promised to zen #obi has been her bodyguard since she graduated high school #mukaze is a mob boss #so is izana #SO MUCH IS GOING ON #here's just a taste #i may or may not continue it though #ans #fanfic #bubbleswrites

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