#apprentice roka
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been having sleeping issues lately so here's a sleepy Julian for my soul :>
#the arcana#fanart#the arcana game#julian devorak#rae draws#i just want him to be well rested for once#thats all i ask#fan apprentice#apprentice roka#just because of the plushie next to him lol#lmao even#julian x mc
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I don't own these characters but gizmo
Hero name Gizmo the inventor hero
Name Roka Satoko
Age 26
Birthday September 8
Height 5ft0
Hair color sea foam hair spike pick tails
Eye color left eye red, right eye brown
Blood type -O
Hero number 1970
Outfit short black body suit with a dark brown two side bags,black arm sleeves, dark brown gloves with metal cuffs, long black legs bands with metal anklets. Dark brown welding googles.
Winter outfit long black body suit with dark brown boots,
Voice actor
English:Lara Jill Miller
Japanese: Yoko Asada
Quirk magnetism
Able to attract any metal in existence around the radiance she is in, with that her mind came help create any form she wants and in her orbit around. She also needs to have the strength of carrying the metal on and around. The con this is she becomes numb in her body the more she uses attract until she is completely unmovable.
When Satoko was young she didn't know what was going on around her, she was place into a slave trade at age 5 where her parents were drug addicts sold her to them, She was later place up to bid when her quirk begin to appear she spend most the time looking at objects and putting them together with her quirk and mind. Satoko was sold to a former pro hero called Doc who was well known, own a area in the city where people mostly build stuff for pro heroes everyday to help them. This place was a old fashion workshop that is connected to buildings to form a factory and has a penthouse in the building
When Doc return with satoko to his workers surprise that he taken in a child. After settling in he told her that he found out about her and her abilities he made a offer for her she can stay here and be his apprentice where she can live under a roof or leave her homeless where she would defend for herself, she made the decision to stay with him knowing not what to do out there. She begin to befriend each worker from the work to others in the area, satoko had a hard time being friends with one them it was doc grandson Nao who was a flirt who often insults Satoko that doc begin to teach her everything he knows about machines and weapons to help set her mind, being creative to her quirk.
When she gotten older Her intelligence begin to grow with her abilities of taking things apart and putting them together again, satoko help with his work from time to time and was impress how well she was doing with the help of Yuu who was a young man who sees satoko as a little sister soon fear struck when doc health problems begin to occur he wanted to prepare satoko for whatever happens next in the future.
One day after school she came nao came to her and made some unwanted advance to her with her being small he toke advantage of her and soon she was deflower. She stay in her room for three days feeling disgusted with herself which made her loose a lot of weight. she told Yuu what happen to her which in results of yuu and nao in a brawl. Doc came to see what was going on and finds out what happen he was upset to hear what happen so he decide to kick out Nao from this placed but it was too late with the damage being done. A few days later doc was dying, on his death bed he told satoko how proud he was of her what she became and in his will she owns almost the area with that he died with satoko near him she lost a master and man who love her as his child.
Satoko was now in charge of the company she begin to make preparation on a few changes now that she is in charge, Soon she was chosen much to her dismay to be a powerhouse due to her quirk, with that she made a few allies in the powerhouse one of which is Tempest who became close due to them being the only two in the same area where she would giver new gear in exchange of her asking other heroes about her. One night on patrol she had meet Fatgum during a brawl they gotten close over the years and satoko finds a man who made her feel safe for the first time ever in years.
When she learn about Tempest death she went into a slump of loosing one of her closes friends but with the help with tai she was able to get back. With a few pass by she became the number 3 powerhouse and her business becoming better. when she hears about the fact that tempest could be alive and with the missing children she would help in any way she can. After everything that happen she was glad to see the aftermath going well and soon she decide to take in a couple of UA students for internship Soon during the powerhouse battle she looses a leg and has to be replaced with a metal leg.
Gizmo and Fatgum have a very cute relationship even though she is a powerful her he still worries about her.
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Desperate Liaisons (Part 2 of 3)
(The second part to @thelionshoarde’s birthday gift; this time actually reaching the actual conceit)
Part 1
No matter how long he is gone, Shirayuki never grows used to it.
It’s her turn to swing by the stock room to replenish the lab’s supplies; Suzu reminds her of it helpfully after lunch, handing her a list that runs down a scrap of parchment as long as her arm. A quick glance at it tells her what exactly she’s suspected seeing him run small, strange experiments on his bench: he’s run out of everything and has been stretching his supplies to make it to stock day.
It’s in her pocket now, nestled with a bundle of receipts, one for each of the other pharmacists. An old treatise gets tucked under her arm as she sways up the ladder as well; Shidan asked her to confirm its results with whatever time her other projects left her, and half of what it lists no one keeps to hand. Bags and boxes and ties follow her up as well, and Shirayuki allows herself a moment to bask in the simple pleasure of being well-prepared before opening the first list.
Of course, it’s chicken scrawl and faded ink that greets her when she’s finally up the ladder, and Shirayuki closes her eyes to shut out the pressure building behind her eyes. She should have known it wouldn’t be so simple to just grab supplies.
She’s tying up a bundle of peppermint for Izuru, trying to discern whether the old tome says koko or roka, when she feels the person standing just one side of the ladder, hand steadying it from it’s slow, rickety roll.
“Take me to the analgesics,” she tells him, “Suzu says they’re running low on most of them in the pharmacy with the flu going around.”
“Gladly, my lady.”
The voice startles her; it’s not -- she thought --
Shikito smiles, gentle. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me where they are.”
“You’re not Obi,” she yelps, the words falling out before she can catch them.
“I’m sorry, my lady.” He does a very valiant job of not laughing, though his shoulders shake. “But I am not.”
She takes a breath, two, before she holds out a trembling hand. “Just that way, if you please. If we’ve hit where the floor changes, we’ve gone too far.”
When he rides away from her, she misses another set of arms, the other half of her brain. She has to teach herself how to just rely on her own hands, her own thoughts.
She doesn’t like it.
“Come on,” Yuzuri cajoles, fluttering her eyelashes over wide, guileless eyes. “You’ve barely been out of the lab in days. You can take a long lunch. The dumpling-seller just finished his first batch. I could smell it from the hothouses.”
“I’m sorry,” Shirayuki sighs, adjusting the vent on her burner. The flame shifts from red hot to super-heated blue. “I can’t. Shidan wants this done by the end of the week, and it takes three days to --”
“Suzu?”
His shaggy head pops up from behind a shelf.
Yuzuri’s mouth unfurls into a sly smile. “Does Shirayuki have time to go get some lunch in the Tent District?”
“Sure.” He lifts his goggles, curls falling askew. “We can just have one of the apprentices watch the flame. It just needs to boil before cooling?”
“To room temperature,” she confirms helplessly, eyes darting between the flame and Yuzuri’s smirk. “But I really should --”
“Lady Shirayuki.”
She springs off her stool at the sound of her name, mouth already parted in a smile.“Shikito!”
He returns the gesture, lips curving shy and slow. Yuzuri give an appreciate hum behind her.
(”Shy and handsome,” Yuzuri says, peering out over the courtyard where the guard trains. “That’s a good look.”
A voice that sounds oddly like Obi offers, not as good as rugged and clever, but Shirayuki knows better to say those things out loud. It just gives Yuzuri ideas.
Besides, if the gaggle of girls that wait for Shikito when he comes off duty is any indication, Yuzuri isn’t alone in her opinion)
“Do you need me?” Shirayuki asks, hopeful, trying to convey through eyes alone that any excuse to escape before Yuzuri steals her and starts prying about Obi and letters would be much appreciated.
But, of course, it’s not Shikito who can speak that way with her.
“Ah, no.” The words sound wrong when she’s so used to -- to always, or, more than you know. Shikito reaches into his coat. “I wanted to let you know the mail came, and --”
And she doesn’t need to see more than the languid scrawl of her name to jump forward, to snatch it up from his hands. Her fingers trace over the letters, following the tight loop of an ‘s,’ the spiky lilt of a ‘k,’ and the knot above her heart aches.
“Thank you,” she breathes, eyes not straying from the parchment. “I...” She licks her lips. “I’ll read it later.”
Her good intentions don’t last.
She should wait, she knows; what’s inside is confidential, encoded information meant for Izana, but she’s too excited, too eager. Shikito has hardly turned his back when she breaks the seal in the middle of the lab, hungry to see his hand --
It is a mistake.
“Oh my,” Yuzuri hums, sashaying to her side. “Just what is making you blush so – oh wow.”
“That’s not --” her mouth is too dry to speak -- “It’s not what it looks like.”
“My dearest,” Yuzuri reads, dropping her voice to a deep rumble. “It’s been so long my hands ache to hold you –“
“It’s in code,” she shrills, slapping the parchment in half, hiding the words. “That’s not – it’s not –”
“Hm,” Suzu observes elegantly, “didn’t think you two were like that.”
She clutches the parchment to her chest, rounding protectively over it. “I’ll just – read this later!”
Yuzuri grins. “I bet.”
My dearest,
It’s been so long my hands ache to hold you. Only a week and the bed we’ve never shared feels empty. Do you remember that first night, years ago? When you invited me into your bed? I find I cannot forget it...
“That’s not how it went at all,” she mutters, reaching for the book she’d buried deep in her drawers.
The edition is lovely, leather-bound and tooled; a collector’s piece, Kazaha would call it. A Hundred Poems would sit proudly on her shelves, if only it’s first page did not actually say, The Heat of Winter, and was not followed by three hundred more of a romance so shameless it would make Yuzuri’s collection seem positively tame.
He had handed it to her in that barn, straight-faced, don’t you know me better than that, Miss? And now he was sending her -- this, as if she were someone else. A different Shirayuki entirely, one who lived her same life, walked her same steps, only --
Only for herself.
A laugh huffs painfully from her chest. Of course Obi had crafted a kinder fiction than she had for herself.
The words dog her, nipping at her heels until she finally turns her mind to her task, until she sees the first section of the letter is not encoded gibberish, but makes a message.
“Miss,” she reads, “Apologies for the surprise, but the men here are suspicious, even of the infamous Nanaki. Apparently they expected a more impressive beard.”
“Unfortunate,” she murmurs, smile tugging at her lips.
“I suspect that the monkey isn’t helping,” it continues, his plaintive tones ringing in her ears. “It may surprise you to know that his tricks have not made for fast friends. A mystery, that.”
His letter as Nanaki had made her flush, but the one he writes to her as Obi makes her warm in a different way entirely. Trust him to write in code as easy as breathing, to be able to make his message sound so much like him that she can hear the lilt of his voice as she reads, the smirk he must be wearing as she writes.
“I thought they might be more at ease if I wrote not to a friend,” he explains, “but to a lover. I promise to keep the letters tasteful, though if you find yourself intrigued –“
Shirayuki slaps the paper down, lips thin. “That’s quite enough for now.”
The letter itself is -- is a distraction, but it’s only when Izana’s reply arrives from Wistal, freshly encoded, that Shirayuki realizes the true problem:
She has to reply.
It’s not that she’s never written to someone she had a -- a mutual attraction with. But every time she puts pen to page she sees Obi’s spiky hand scrawl the word lovers across parchment, hears his voice murmur, my hands ache to hold you, and --
And this feels different from what -- what used to be written to her. What she used to write back.
Her pen twiddles between her fingers, candlelight dancing across her desk. My hands ache to hold you.
She remembers them, strong as they stoppered up her words beneath the trees of Tanbarun, gentle as his knuckles tapped hers in Wistal, warm around her wrist as he hauled her along the wall, hot beneath her thighs before the full-belly shiver of free-fall.
Cheeks hot, she shakes herself. This isn’t -- it’s not a letter from Obi to her, but from Nanaki to this...other Shirayuki.
She presses her nib to the page. She would -- she would do well to remember that.
Dear Nanaki,
I miss you too. Much is happening, even with you gone. Last week, after lecture, Paku cooled Suzu’s crucible far too quickly, and we all had to take cover when shards of porcelain exploded across the lab. I’m afraid some of Ryuu’s pots didn’t make it out unscathed...
He keeps his promise, mainly, though he makes it plain that Nanaki and this other Shirayuki have gone well past the point of chaste kisses and cuddling in tents.
Today I looked at the sea, and the waves shone golden, he writes once, and all I could think of was your skin in the morning light. Another reads, the way your hips fit in my hands as we come together, and another still, the taste of your pulse when I make it race.
They never stray to specifics, but even so, she cracks open her windows as she reads them, hoping the chill air will keep her focused, will remind her that she is supposed to be decoding not -- not whatever this is.
“What’s with that face?” Yuzuri asks, glancing up from the planter as Shirayuki sits back on her heels, pressing the cold backs of her hands to her cheeks. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I --” she coughs. “Yes. I’m – I’m fine. It’s just – sweet lips?”
“Better or worse than swan-neck?” Yuzuri’s mouth lifts at the corner, far too amused. “Though far and away my favorite kiss fiend. You need to let me read that one.”
“It’s confidential,” she says, rote. “Besides, I’m sure you can guess the content.”
“Yes, but…” Yuzuri grins. “I want to judge his technique.”
A laugh escapes her, and Shirayuki suggests, “You can ask for a demonstration when he gets back.”
“Please.” She bends back over the bed, shaking her head. “You are the one that should be asking for a demonstration.”
“It’s not --”
“What about that pretty boy of yours?” Yuzuri arches an eyebrow. “Any letters from him? Been a while.”
“No.” Her mouth pulls flat. “I won’t be getting letters from him.”
Yuzuri hands stutter as she works, but there’s no surprise written on her face. “Yeah. I had a feeling it was something like that.”
She hesitates, as if she’d like to say something else, but instead she stands, brushing dirt off her skirts.
“So what’d you write Obi that’s got you all bothered, then?”
Shirayuki coughs, turning back to the planter. “Look at the time! We best get a move on if we want to get dumplings for lunch!”
Miss,
Please be aware that they read the letters. As much as I enjoy the catalogue of plants in the hot houses, I have been teased more than once for my ‘lackluster charms.’ You can guess at how much the monkey has been warming to the topic. Maybe mention my many merits as a partner? My devotion? My dexterity? The way my uniform cups my --
“Well,” Shirayuki coughs, skipping to the next page. “I don’t think I’d know anything about that.”
Dearest plum-bottom,
I am afraid I can no longer pretend I do not long for you, not after the way your words have torn away the walls of my heart. I long to hear your voice, to feel your breath against my neck, your warmth on my skin...
Dear Miss,
You’ll be pleased to know they all have taken to calling me plum-bottom, as well. Thank you, for that.
You should also be aware, if they are reading my letters so closely, they have probably sent a man to keep an eye on you as well...
Shirayuki could walk the wall from Lyrias to Wilant in her sleep; still, Shikito insists on sticking close, on being her handsome and companionable shadow until she is at the door to her room. She ignores the way it rankles, if only to save his feelings -- it’s not his fault, after all, that the underground has sent a man after her. But still -- there is no safer place in the north for her, not with the way Obi left the patrols, and how Jirou runs them still.
They both raise a hand in greeting as he passes, one of the newest guards struggling to keep pace beside him, despite his longer legs.
“That reminds me,” she says as the light of their torches fades, leaving only the light of her glowstone behind. “Did you --”
A shadow moves where it shouldn’t, over by chimney across the way. Her breath catches.
“My lady?” Shikito leans close, expression bent into concern.
“Shikito,” she breathes. “Laugh.”
His eyes widen, but he’s too well trained to look. Instead he throws his head back, hands pressing over his belly as his laughter rings out across the wall.
“My lady,” he says, just loud enough. “What a mind you have!”
It takes all her courage to put the shadow to her back, to pretend she can’t see what she shouldn’t. “Oh, you know,” she says with a smile she can’t make real. “My Nanaki says that all the time!”
Obi,
I only meant to make up for my previous letters. I thought ‘plum-bottom’ was right in line with the sort of names you were making.
I should tell you that I have seen their man. He follows close, and is not at all as adept as you are at hiding in the shadows. It will be hard to keep ignoring him, at this rate...
Miss,
Do not let him know he is found. These are not the kind of rogues you are used to. They make Mihaya look almost palatable. The other day I almost willingly spent time with him, if only so I didn’t have to play checkers with Rat-tooth Han. But then I remembered rats are better than monkeys...
Her day off finds her on Pavilion Street, arm wound through Yuzuri’s as they try to pick which café to have lunch in. Shikito trails not far behind, looking out-of-place without his uniform on, making awkward yet pleasant conversation with Suzu and Kazaha.
It’s all so normal, so much like how things should be, that she nearly forgets it isn’t Obi behind her, sandwiched between two bickering scholars. She nearly forgets that there’s a shadow following her, that her actions are being scrutinized and reported back to see if she’s real enough --
Unit she sees a man with a hat tilted low over his face across the street, cheeks covered in bristle, and she gets a – a hunch.
A hunch that is confirmed when they eat out on the terrace – there’s no reason to not, when it’s one of the few nice days Lyrias will see – and he does the same at the café down the street, eyeing them over his paper. All he has is hot water and lemon, a half-eaten sweet bun discarded on one of the cafe’s plates.
When they leave, she excuses herself, jogging across the street.
“You must be one of Nanaki’s friends,” she says with a bright smile as he stares at her. She sets a bag across from him. “If you mean to stay a while, you should know – the chocolate here is good, but they have better pastries across the street.”
His face is nondescript, the only noticeable part about him the shaggy start to a beard, but she’ll never forget the way she gapes as she steps away, as she waves. “Tell my plum-bottom I say hello!”
Dearest Heart, his next letter reads, far more sedate. She allows herself a measure of smugness, thinking she got the best of him, but then –
It has been too long since I’ve seen you. I ache to be inside you again, to bury my head between your sweet thighs and drink your –
She slams a hand over the paper, sweat beading at her brow. She can – she can handle this tomorrow.
#obiyuki#obiyukimadness#akagami no shirayukihime#undercover as lovers#my fic#ans#why must i write a thousand love letters#why is this my life#COMPETITIVE LOVE LETTER WRITING#as you may have gathered#the third part is where this fic will earn its m-rating#ENJOY
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Yatsufusa and Garrack at Wistal Pharmacy with origami
Follows this.
The two weeks Yatsufusa was gone were busy, but blessedly short of hassles. They really needed the hands, which was why they’d hired him in the first place, but he questioned everything. He even argued with her in front of the patients. It was Shidan all over again, and she braced herself when she heard he and Sir Mitsuhide had returned.
He was subdued, less arrogant when he came back to the pharmacy, and at first she thought the prank had actually accomplished the job. Her conscience had been pricking her the whole time that she was punishing him not for his job performance, but simply for being annoying. But if it worked, who was she to complain?
Yatsufusa had been back from his expedition for about a week when Garrack found the first flower, folded from delicate pink paper, creased tightly and twisted into a beautiful rose. What it was was clear. What it was doing on her desk was not.
But there was an outbreak of gastrointestinal flu in one of the guard barracks, and they were a week behind on inventory, and she wasn’t sure they’d have enough manpower to process the roka this year with Master Yoshi effectively retired, and somehow the mystery of a little piece of folded paper was just never important enough to pursue.
Second was an iris, mathematically precise and delicately curved in three-sided perfection. Maybe one of the guards was appreciative of the treatment? Or one of the patients had been bored? She set it next to the rose in a glass on her desk and enjoyed the way they brightened up the room. For all she worked with plants day in and out, it had been years since she’d had flowers on her desk.
But papers piled up and the flowers were hidden from view long before she got around to inquiring about them.
The next was a full spray of bellflowers, buds and blooms springing from a wire stem. It was beautiful, and Garrack shoved aside her piles of charts to get at the other two. Once she blew the dust off the rose, they made a lovely trio there on her desk. Her conscience pricked again, telling her it wasn’t fair to keep letting it slide. She really needed to get to the bottom of this mystery.
Not many people could pass through the pharmacy without being noticed, and even fewer had access to her office. Master Yoshi was still on the books as a Palace pharmacist, but he hadn’t been around for months. Master Nada was nearly as scarce, focusing on the guard detachments and rarely ever stopping in for anything more than prescription refills. And neither would have any reason to give her flowers, she hadn’t done them any favors, had nothing they wanted.
She considered Prince Izana for a moment. It would be the kind of thing he would do, but he’d have followed up by now. He never liked it when she ignored him, and there would have been retaliation weeks ago.
That left only one possibility, the one she hadn’t wanted to admit. A knock on her door forced the issue. She was going to have to have a talk with Apprentice Yatsufusa.
He was still hard to read, but his shoulders were rigid as he entered her office, his steps careful. Suddenly it struck her how specifically he reminded her of Shidan, not just in her reaction to him, not in his looks or his work, but in that frustrating mixture of arrogance and uncertainty that gave her whiplash. She’d never known from day to day which Shidan she was dealing with, so she’d pushed him away as a distraction. Pushed him all the way to Lyrias. She felt the same urge now.
He held his hands stiff by his side as though consciously restricting their movement. He was nervous in her presence, and Garrack’s stomach sank. Just because she had problems with him didn’t mean she wanted to hurt his feelings. He moved a pile of papers from one chair to another and perched on the edge of the first. He wasn’t a peer, he was an apprentice. She had obligations to him, both as a mentor and as an employer. He shouldn’t be bringing her presents. She resolved to tear off the bandage quickly.
“The flowers are lovely, but I feel like I should warn you I consider relationships within the pharmacy to be unprofessional, Apprentice. Besides, I’m married to my work.” There’d been a time she might have said otherwise, but that had been a long time ago. Not anymore.
His lips fell open, his shoulders dropped,and she suspected his unseen eyes were wide open behind the scarf. She had just enough time to realize she’d made a mistake before he spoke. “I didn’t mean-” He gestured with his hands, pointing to her vase of paper flowers. “They were a gift to try to apologize. Clearly I’ve made you unhappy, but I don’t know what I did so I don’t know how to make amends. I just want to impress you, but I don’t know how.” His voice was so sad she had to suppress a smirk. Had she ever been that young and earnest? No, Shidan said in the back of her head, and she tuned his bitterness out.
But the boy did have some vulnerability after all. She could work with this. “I already am impressed. You're fast, you're precise, and you have a good manner with the patients. Be a little more respectful of your co-workers, and I'll have nothing else to complain about. No more arguing in front of patients. No call for flowers. Right?” There was no room for disagreement in her tone. Most people found utter certainty motivational, and it certainly made them less like to argue with her.
“Right,” Yatsufusa agreed, and she could tell she had him in a way she’d never managed with Shidan. “Thank you, Chief Pharmacist. I'll get back to work now.” He left, closing her office door behind him.
In the silence, Garrack smiled, reaching for her paper iris and twirling it between her fingers. “This might just work after all.”
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Pounding Heart
Wham!
“Don’t you dare…” Sakura took a deep breath, heart hammering in her chest as she tried to keep the flood of panic at bay. “Don’t you dare die and leave me with your pervert cousin…” Because if you do, I’m pretty damn sure he’d lose his shit and then your whole fucking clan is going to murder me, revive me and then murder me again…she almost threw up at the thought.
Another powerful, chakra enhanced fist pounded his chest and then another and another.
Itachi gasped, choking on air as his back arched in pain, dark eyes wild and dilated. Cradling his head in her lap, Sakura unconsciously placed a tender kiss on his temple, sagging in relief and drawing his dazed attention. “Please don’t ever fucking do that again, Itachi…” she whispered, pumping her chakra into him to stabilize his vitals.
Shisui dropped down beside them and she had never been more happy to see him.
“He’s alive…” she assured, getting ready to haul him across her shoulders, but Shisui beat her to it.
Her eyes were already assessing the damage he’d taken—bruises and lacerations, a broken rib or two judging by his breathing and low on chakra. About to protest, Sakura bit her tongue when he shook his head and gave her a pained smile. “I’ve got him. I need you free in case there’s another war party on the loose.” In case you need to escape and leave us behind…
She tsked and stepping forward, placed a healing hand to his side to mend his ribs. “Don’t be dramatic.”
He stole a quick kiss much to Sakura’s chagrin. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Save your energy. You’re going to need it for the run back home.”
…
Sakura was exhausted. A stay-in-bed-all-day type of exhausted where the only thing she wanted to do was sleep and flop around, maybe eat if she could manage, but mostly just sleep. But damn, she couldn’t. With a tired groan, she rolled out of bed and dragged herself to the shower.
An hour later, she was walking into the Uchiha compound, mentally preparing herself for what would certainly be a very long day. She briefly wondered how she got sucked into doing this and then remembered that it was all Tsunade’s fault. How convenient of the blonde to offer up her apprentice to oversee the annual Uchiha shinobi physicals. Ugh, who did I piss off in my past life?
Personally, Sakura would’ve just forced everyone to show up at the hospital by threatening each and every one of them with low ranking missions, but ‘in the interest of clan relations’, Tsunade had given them this small inch. Though Sakura knew it was simply to shut the Uchiha elders up.
“Sakura-senpai!”
She looked up and waved, making a beeline for where the others had set up shop. The medics had commandeered one of the many traditional homes on the Uchiha compound and had partitioned the space into smaller, private rooms for the physicals.
“Catch me up, Moegi,” Sakura said as she accepted the steaming cup of coffee from the young, doe-eyed medic in training.
“Five medics on site, including you. Rooms have all been set up and everything’s good to go, Sakura-senpai.”
“How many Uchiha are we expecting?”
“Forty-seven.”
Moegi helped Sakura into her white chief medic coat as the others walked onto the roka. Sakura could’ve killed Tsunade right then and there when she saw who she was saddled with. All fresh, doe-eyed girls. Fan girls. Masquerading as medics in training. This had to be payback for swiping a few bottles of her best sake. Granted, these physicals would be easy enough for their skill levels, but what the hell! She didn’t need to deal with puddles of goo and lovesick babies today. Suppressing a sigh, Sakura took a deep breath. She’d been doing that a lot lately it seemed.
“I demand complete professionalism today, ladies. Lose that and I’ll have no issue kicking your asses back to the hospital and calling for replacements. Absolutely no fangirling. Are we understood?”
“B-but Sakura-senpai, what if we can’t help it?”
She raised a brow, an almost scary smile curving her lips. “You’re medics. You better be able to help it.”
“It’s not fair. Sakura-senpai has had lots more experience dealing with beautiful men.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at their eager, yet nervous expressions. She certainly did have more experience, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t immune. She was still a hot-blooded female, thank you very much and only twenty five. Though admittedly, it did help to have two of Konoha’s most sought after bachelors as best friends. Their stupidity tended to overshadow their good looks however, and over time Sakura had developed a certain resistance.
“Complete professionalism,” she repeated. “Now get going. I can already feel a few patients approaching.”
“Hai, Sakura-senpai!”
It was easy enough to get through the physicals and much to her surprise, Sakura found she didn’t need to intervene as much as she thought she would. Uchihas certainly weren’t known for their chattiness and they only showed her medics the utmost respect. Polite. Quiet. Assessing. If they were amused by the girls and their admiring stares, they didn’t show it.
“Sakura…”
She looked up from her notes and smiled. “Hey, Itachi. Have a seat.” She pointed to the medical bed in the center of the room. “I’ll be over in a sec.”
“Shizune-san?”
“Last minute diplomatic trip to Suna,” she explained.
“Aa.”
“Shirt off, please and take a seat.”
He did as he was asked, as silent as ever. No wasted words. Finishing the last of her notes, she placed the clipboard down and walked over. She didn’t think anyone would argue about Itachi Uchiha’s masculine allure or down-right gorgeousness. He was perhaps the epitome of a Konoha shinobi. Sleek. Powerful. Devastating. So good it was downright scary sometimes.
“How’re you feeling today?”
“Fine.”
“Fully recovered I hope after last week’s ‘let me be a hero’ episode?” Sakura smiled sweetly. She deliberately invaded his personal space by stepping in between his legs and placing a warm hand on his chest, letting her chakra flow into his body.
His dark eyes flickered, gaze growing more intense. “Fully recovered, Sakura. I assure you.”
“Good.” Sometimes these men needed reminding that despite their genius, they were all still human and needed to take care.
“Now take a deep breath. Release.”
He had a strong heartbeat. Lungs were fine and his injuries sustained during their last ANBU mission were mostly healed. Her hand lingered on his left side, fingers fluttering over the oblong green yellow bruise. Served him right.
“You didn’t heal it.” His voice was deep and even. Silently, she cursed him for sounding good enough to eat. Like dark, velvety chocolate.
“How are your eyes?”
“Fine.”
She raised a pink brow and then drew closer to take a deeper look.
“Sasuke complains sometimes about headaches after prolonged use of his Sharingan. You must experience the same thing, probably worse.” There was a lilting threat somewhere in between her soft spoken words as she rested her fingers on his temples.
“Occasionally,” he murmured.
“There’s a lot of pressure that can build up when you’re channeling so much chakra into one area of your body. Because of this, your eyes tend to suffer a lot of strain.” Sakura then gently began massaging the areas around his eyes, smiling when he, whether intentional or not, let them drift closed. With every soft caress and stroke, she fed small bursts and sinewy tendrils of her chakra in and around, restoring and relaxing the strong pathways that fueled his bloodline limit.
“Does it hurt?”
Itachi offered a noncommittal grunt which she took as a no. “Shisui says it feels like foreplay. Figures the perv would somehow relate it back to sex,” Sakura divulged with an airy chuckle.
“You’ve done this for him?”
“Mmhmm. He saw me do it a few days ago on Sasuke and Kakashi and said he wanted in.” His silence was telling. “Are you feeling left out?” she teased, pushing back a stray lock of his long black hair.
“Hn.”
Sakura laughed as she finished up. “Don’t be. It’s something new I’m trying out. Consider yourselves my little guinea pigs.”
Itachi opened his eyes when she stepped away.
“Better?” she asked, biting her bottom lip and suddenly anxious to hear what he thought.
“Aa.”
Sakura smiled, resigning herself to his monosyllabic answers but still feeling playful. “Better than foreplay?”
“Much better. More like the after effects of an orgasm.” He didn’t miss a beat and she burst into a fit of laughter, shoving his shoulder as her face heated.
“It does not!”
He caught her hand and for a moment, she felt her heart stutter and butterflies rise in her stomach at the rather intimate gesture. Lacing his fingers through hers, he lifted his gaze from their intertwined hands and pulled her even closer.
“I never thanked you for saving my life.”
Sakura forced her brain to function again. “I’m pretty sure I owe you a few more lives, Itachi.”
His eyes darkened as an almost secretive smile quirked his lips, but just as soon as it appeared, it was gone.
“Sakura-hime!” The shoji screen whipped open and Shisui swept in, a black-haired whirlwind so unlike the typical, stoic Uchihas she was used to.
“Hey, Shisui,” she greeted over her shoulder before turning back to Itachi who still held her hand captive. He finally let her go though after a few insistent tugs.
“Your vitals are good, all in tip top shape, to be honest,” Sakura said, jotting down a few final notes on a paper pad she had grabbed from her front coat pocket.
“Did you get to experience Sakura’s magic hands?” Shisui asked curiously, mischief dancing in his eyes.
“Don’t make it sound dirty!”
“It was an innocent question!”
Just then, there was a loud thump from the room next door. Sakura already knew what it was and mentally face-palmed.
“Ah, Sakura-san…”
She smiled apologetically at the handsome Uchiha who appeared in the doorway, looking mildly panicked. “Don’t worry about it, Hiro.” He nodded in relief and quickly went on his way.
Shisui and Itachi both hid a smirk, but Sakura could see it in their eyes. “Pain in the asses…”
“Can’t help that girls fall at our feet. You know, Uchiha genes and all,” Shisui bemoaned, biting back his Cheshire grin.
She rolled her pretty, green eyes and whacked him on the shoulder as she walked by to attend to the puddle of medic-goo next door.
“She’s mine,” Itachi stated after Sakura had left the room, glancing at Shisui.
He raised a brow in challenge. “Staking claims already, little cousin?”
Itachi narrowed his eyes before they both disappeared.
Later, Sakura would wonder what the hell had happened when they both showed up on her doorstep, battered and bruised.
…
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INITIALLY it was just supposed to be a cute comic of Roka falling asleep on Julian in the back of a car
and then I had to think about who was driving...and I picked Asra
oops
#fanart#the arcana#the arcana game#julian devorak#fan apprentice#apprentice roka#asra alnazar#modern au#the arcana modern au#those two are gonna have a Talk for sure
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the sillies slash pos
haven't drawn these goobers together in a while <3
#the arcana#the arcana game#fanart#julian devorak#fan apprentice#apprentice roka#rae draws#i also haven't touched paper in a while lmao#traditional art my beloved
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last time I did this was in 2020 and a few things have changed since
also I wanted to show off Roka's heart hunter sprite heehee
#the arcana#the arcana game#julian devorak#fan apprentice#apprentice roka#ship: roguish behaviour#julian x mc#ship dynamics
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Rae's Long-overdue Intro Post
Blogger Basics
I'm Rae (they/it/he) and I'm a Julian enjoyer first, person second /j
I primarily make fanart for The Arcana with the occasional headcanon post when I feel like it. My tagging system is nonexistent but my general art tag is currently #rae draws and most textposts I make use the #shut up rae tag
I'm an adult and any nsfw or suggestive works are typically kept under the cut. That being said, most posts generally PG-13 with a handful of exceptions. Tread wisely.I use the tags #limeade and #lemonade for any nsfw posts.
Bigotry and exclusionism are not welcome on this blog.
Fan Apprentice
My arcana fan apprentice has their own tag! I never talk about them so it's about time I did
#apprentice Roka
Sideblog
I also run (or once ran) a badlydrawn Julian askblog!
@badlydrawndoctordevorak
Commission Status
Currently closed!
Extras
I try to keep this blog drama-free for the most part, but if it's important it'll end up on here (big issues regarding Dorian or fandom people being dickwads past the point of "drama" mostly lbr)
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Do Not Go (Where I Cannot Follow): Part 2
(Sequel to this prompt. And, I suppose, this one.)
Below her wrists, Shirayuki’s hands are numb.
Her fingers are frozen into talons, clutching at Obi’s coat, trying to will heat into his body. He’s silent, so utterly still, skin far too cold to the touch; only hint of life the bone-deep shivers that wrack his body.
She presses tighter, closer, and wishes she had more than a horse blanket and her cape to keep him warm. The shallow hitch of his breath pushes against her belly, and she can almost hear him say, oh, you know what they say is the best way to share heat, Miss...
Panic chokes her; she buries her head in his shoulder to stifle the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Oh, how she hates this, how she despises waiting for rescue. How she hates not knowing.
“Not much longer,” she tells him. An hour, she only has to wait an hour. She set the flare off --
Ah, she hadn’t -- the pocket watch is still tucked between her dress and jacket, she hadn’t even thought to check --
“I promise,” she croaks, ear pressed to his chest to hear the slow beat of his heart. “I promise it won’t be long.”
Blood crusts on her coat, stiffening the fur. None of his wounds are fatal by themselves -- not even where the sword went through him -- but together he has lost too much blood. His injuries may not kill him, but the shock might. With every shiver she’s reminded he’s too weak to stave off hypothermia, that he needs to be on a bed of straw and not snow.
She has no warning but the crunch of snow, and – oh, oh, how she should have done what Obi would, and made sure their enemies were dead –
She will not let them take her.
His knife feels foreign in her hand, so unlike the ones she uses for cooking or chopping herbs in the pharmacy. It is heavier than she expects for such thin blades, and she wonders if it’s possible for the blood it’s shed to weigh it down, but –
But a hand comes heavy down on her shoulder, and she swings out, all too eager to add to its heft –
The man stumbles back, tipping bottom-first into the drift to evade the arc of her knife. “My lady!”
Her breath bursts out of her, spattering the air between them. “Jirou! Have you – are you–?”
“We saw your flare, my lady.” His mouth parts in a sheepish grin, one she’s grown so used to over the years. Something in her aches to see it now, when she feels as if her home gets further from her with each breath. “Sir Obi was right, we could see it clear --”
His gaze slides past her, to where Obi’s chest struggles to rise with his breath.
There is nothing in all her medical texts to explain what happens to the human face when confronted with tragedy. She knows every muscle, every bone, but none of them account for the way Jirou’s face subtly crumples when he sees Obi’s body.
“Sir Obi,” he manages, jaw set. “Is he -- will he--?”
Her hands clench. “I don’t…”
There are no words. The answer is unfathomable.
Another hand closes around her wrist, but she knows the touch too well to startle, even though she feels it so rarely. Its partner plucks the blade from her hands. She hadn’t even known she was still holding it.
“Shirayuki.” It’s strange how deep Ryuu’s voice has become. She left only hours ago, but it sounds deeper, more like a man’s than she remembers. “You’re all right now.”
It is as if she was cursed, and his touch has broken it. Where once she was immobile, frozen by her fear, she is no longer.
She turns to him, watching as he smoothly tucks the knife into his belt, beside one of a slightly different make. It’s made for his smaller hands; a gift. No longer smaller than her, he is not yet taller that Obi, but standing there in the clearing, breath thick on the air, she sees the man in him.
“Ryuu,” she gasps, and then he is lurching toward her, his long limbs catching her before she can fall too far into his arms.
His hand pats at her back, awkward in the embrace. Time hasn’t changed that. “It will…you’ll be fine. We can…we can handle this.”
Tears sting her eyes, and for an indulgent moment she presses her face into his shoulder, letting them seep hotly into the fabric there. With a sniff, she pulls back, eyes dry.
“You’re right,” she says, voice even. “We need to get him back to the pharmacy. On a litter, preferably. And with blankets.”
Ryuu nods, quietly nodding at the men behind her. It’s when they pull out the furs from a cart that she realizes – Ryuu had already thought of everything. He could be doing this –
“What else?” he prompts, patient, and she knows – she knows this is for her benefit. He is giving her the control she so desperately needs.
“Well,” she starts, smile tugging weakly at her lips. “We’ll need to elevate his feet. And I’ll need to see what’s in your kit…”
The illusion lasts until they reach the castle.
A mob of pharmacists and surgeons waiting for them when the cart stops. Shidan steps forward, trailing a dozen master pharmacists behind him. Suzu is not far behind, surging through the crowd to stand at his mentor’s side. His concern is palpable as he leans over the cart, taking in the pallor of Obi’s normally bronzed face, but it is Shidan, mouth bent grimly, who asks, “What happened?”
“He was run through.” She’s impressed at the levelness of her voice, the way it hardly shakes as she speaks. “It hasn’t seemed to hit anything vital, and the bleeding is mostly staunched, but he’s in shock, and hypothermia is –”
“All right.” He nods, gesturing for some of the crowd to come forward, to lift Obi onto an awaiting litter. “Let’s hope it’s as good as you say.”
Shirayuki isn’t sure what about that litany of medical emergencies sounds good, sounds positive, but by the time she’s recovered enough to ask, Shidan’s already turned from her. He steps away, all focus, directing the pharmacists behind him. When he leaves, the crowd follows, materializing litter and hands to carry Obi away.
She rises to follow as well, but Suzu holds up a hand, catching her by the shoulder.
“Shirayuki.” His voice is barely above a murmur, his eyes wide. “You’re bleeding.”
She lifts a hand to her face; it comes away dark with sticky crimson. The tree. She scraped it up on the bark, right before –
She struggles against him. “I have to help. I know what happened, what I did –”
“Please,” Ryuu says, so softly behind her. He ducks his head, eyes fixed to some point on the cobbles. “Let me handle this, Shirayuki.”
“I –”
“Oh my goodness, Shirayuki.” Yuzuri surges forward, seizing her in a hug. “I saw the flare, and I...” Her words die away as she takes in the doubtlessly ugly scrape on her cheek, the blood soaking her coat. “What – what happened? How –?”
“They were waiting,” she says tightly, and oh, if that isn’t a thing she’ll need to think more about. She’d hate to allude to a traitor to Izana without more proof than a botched mission. “We were ambushed.”
“Oh my.” Yuzuri pulls back, eyes searching. “You’re bleeding! Why hasn’t –?”
“I need to help with Obi,” she presses, but Suzu shakes his head, patting her on the shoulder.
“Just let us handle it. You’re almost frozen through.”
“I –”
“I can fix you up,” Yuzuri offers, eager.
“No, I –”
“Shirayuki, please.” Suzu’s gaze is pleading, earnest. “I won’t let anything happen to him. Neither will Ryuu.”
Yuzuri squeezes her. “He couldn’t be in better hands, if they can’t be yours. Besides,” Yuzuri reaches out, tucking a sticky clump of her hair behind her ear, “You have to give me something to do. I can’t sit around, know that Obi is...”
Her breath hitches. “That I can’t do anything.”
“Yuzuri,” Shirayuki breathes, gripping the other girl’s hand. She forgets sometimes that she is not the only one who cares, the only person Obi might think of as his home here in Lyrias.
Yuzuri squeezes her fingers, eyes bright. “I can’t do anything for him but take care of you. And neither can you right now.”
Shirayuki lets out a long, steady sigh and nods slowly. “All right. All right.”
She stares at the blood on her palms. She does not let herself wonder whose it is. “Let’s get me cleaned up.”
He arrives from surgery stitched and sterile, the blood that had caked his clothes and skin washed away by Lyrias’s medicinal waters. Shirayuki breathes easier just seeing him, her hands loosening in her robe as she takes the chair by his bedside.
“As long as infection doesn’t take, he should be fine,” Shidan tells her. She knows it already, and he must as well, but -- but there is something about hearing another voice echo the one echoing in her head that is...comforting. That makes her feel as though she is not just seeing what she wants to see.
He’s lost a lot of blood, his skin still ghastly pale, but already he looks better. They’ve left a shirt off of him -- easier to get at his wounds -- and Shirayuki’s stomach lifts, wondering how soon it will be before she’ll hear his lilting voice, hear I should have known you’d let the apprentices get to me, or, if you’d like a show there are easier ways, Miss.
“The sedative should be wearing off soon.” Shidan answers so swiftly, she wonders if she spoke aloud. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was up for a little while when it does. You know what to dose him with, if he’s bothered.”
“Yes!” she says, a little too eager. She coughs, swallowing down her blush. “I mean, yes. Aya already brought in some roka liquor, just iin case.”
He gives her a soft, relieved smile. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Shidan is right, of course. She’s hardly waited a quarter of an hour before Obi groans, hand flopping uselessly on the bed, too weak to lift to his temple.
“Ah, who finally decided to hit me with a cart,” he sighs, eyes fluttering open. They seek her out first, a smile weakly spreading his lips when he finds her so close. “Never thought you’d be so heavy handed when you finally decided to get rid of me.”
“If I wanted you to go, I’d just ask.” She lets her lips part in a grin she only half-feels. “Or I’d let Ryuu help poison you.”
He grimaces, though with good humor. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss.”
She wants to talk to him, wants to make him promise he’ll never make her worry like this again, but –
But his eyelids flutter, and he is so tired, so worn, she cannot bring herself to ruin to moment, to break his peace. So she doesn’t.
After all, there will always be later.
It is his breathing that wakes her, a gasp like a fish on a dock.
Shirayuki’s out of her seat in a moment, fingers over his pulse, taking in how fast it is, how poor his coloring, how sunken he looks –
She peels back the poultice on his abdomen, brushing away calendula and chamomile to see livid red around the stitches.
“Mallow root,” she breathes, staring at the swollen ridge of his cut. “I need --” She rushes to the door, grabbing an apprentice as she walks by. “I need mallow root, and honey, and -- and fever few. Anything, please.”
The girl runs off, scurrying down the hall as fast as her legs can carry her. Shirayuki silently urges her faster. Time is of the essence.
Infection has taken hold.
He is too pale.
Shirayuki sits with her head in her hands, trying to forget the way his skin burned beneath her palms, the way his breath still labors. He only has to make it through the night; after that the worst is over, it’s all recovery as long as she can keep the infection at bay, but –
But morning is hours away, and his face is sunken, skeletal where it rests against the pillow. In her mind’s eye, she sees him healthy, sees him shrugging off every scar with a smirk and a wink, invincible, but –
But he is as mortal as anyone, like this. Death has always clung to his coattails, but tonight it looms over him, stealing his breath, wondering if it might have its fill.
Her hand fumbles for his blindly, wrapping her fingers around his limp ones. “Obi.” Her voice cracks in the silence. “Obi, don’t go.”
Don’t leave me. Even now she can’t bear to say the words.
Why would I let you go, his voice whispers in her ears, when all I ever want is to have you closer?
Shirayuki stares sightlessly down at their clasped hands. Palms kissing over the blankets is not enough. It’s not close, not for them.
She’s on her feet before she thinks better of it, dropping her robe on the chair and lifting her knees to the mattress. There are footsteps in the hallway as it dips under her, but it doesn’t stop her – no one here would keep her from Obi, would tell her that her place was not next to him. There are no agents of Wistal’s court here to remind her of courtly propriety, and if there were, they could not keep her.
He needs her, and that is enough. If these are to be his last moments – if these are to be her last moments with him – she will spend them by his side, just as he wanted in that clearing. Just as he said he always wanted.
Even as her body relaxes into his familiar shape, she stiffens. Why would he –?
I was longing for Master, he says, and since this is memory, since this is before she knew the exact shape of his heart, she believes him. After such a long time, anyone would go a little mad.
It hasn’t stopped, he says, so much later. It’s practically a purr, but it can’t have been, not really, not then. My heart.
“Oh, Obi.” She leans her head on his chest, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. It rises raggedly under her hand, and oh, how she never meant any of this to happen. How terrible had all this been for him, having her so close, being so close, and he –
He never had a chance; her heart had been firmly stolen before they ever spoke, even if she had not known it. And he -- he must have known, if he would only give her such sly words to tell her. Only small glimpses of his true feelings, ones that she, so blind to everything, would never have seen.
He had stayed, always at her side. And she had always looked to Zen –
She hesitates, her hand tightly wound in the sheets. Had she? Had it been Zen she turned to?
Her heart clenches to imagine Zen in this bed, in as much danger as Obi, but –
But if he was, would she be by his side?
Her stomach churns at the answer. Even as his wife she would be behind a set of grand doors, waiting for news while Izana and Haruka made plans, while Garrack was the only set of hands allowed to administer to him. She would be shut away from the realest parts of his life, as she always was. Zen was not hers, not like –
“Miss?” His voice is a croak, weak and broken, but it is the most beautiful sounds she has ever heard. His eyes open to a slit, gold peeking through the cage of his lashes. “Are you crying?”
She lifts a hand to her cheek, staining her palm with hot tears. “Oh.”
“Don’t cry.” He dropd his cheek to the top of her head. His fingers tighten on hers, too weak for much else. “You’re meant to be happy.”
“I’m s-sorry,” she stutters, trying to force the words past the lump in her throat. Each time she brushes them away, more tears leak in their place. “I didn’t realize.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He sinks back into the pillow, eyes shut, breath thready. “Have I died, Miss?”
“No.” She doesn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, but he barely reacts. “No, Obi. Why would you think that?”
He grins, sly. “I have you in bed with me.”
He sounds so much like himself that she nearly scold him, but instead --
Instead, he laughs. “But obviously that’s not what would be waiting for me. So I must be dreaming.”
Her hands shake against the skin of his chest. “Don’t say that, Obi.”
To speak something is to make it real, she thinks, but she can’t say that, not now. Not even to hear him hum, to hear him say, Ah, so superstitious, Miss.
“Did I get you home safely, Miss?” he asks, brow furrowed. “You’re not in the snow still?”
“No, Obi.” She pets the smooth skin of his chest, finger brushing over the ragged mark of his scar. “You did it. You saved me.”
“Good.” He smiles, as if at peace. “It’s only fair, since you saved me.”
“Obi --”
“I never got to tell you,” he starts, almost anxious, as if he feels time slipping through their fingers.
Her heart gives a great throb in her chest. He can’t mean to – surely now is not the time –
She’s not ready for this, she might never be ready to hear this. “I never got to tell you a lot of things.”
She manages, “What is it, Obi?”
Silence stretches for a long while, taut, the only movement from him the harsh sound of his breath.
“Thank you.” It’s hardly more than an exhale.
Her brow furrows. “For what?”
“For the cakes,” he says, so simply. “And the strawberries. And the dumplings too. Your mother was a wonderful cook.”
He must be delirious. How could he have ever met her mother –?
“I’m only sorry I couldn’t keep them for longer.” His smile turns shy. “I’m afraid I made a bit of a mess of myself that day.”
Something niggles at the back of her mind, a memory –
-- He looks like a dog that’s been wandering the woods for too long. He’s ravenous; he even eats the green tops to the strawberries --
“Shouldn’t eat that much on an empty stomach,” he scolds playfully. “That’s what you’d tell me now.”
“The boy,” she breathes. He had been so small, so different. The scars on him had been only on the inside then. “You were the boy. I looked for you for weeks.”
“I wish I had stayed.” His nose nuzzles her temple. “I could have had so much more time with you.”
“Things would have been different,” she murmurs, pressing close to him. She rarely deals in what-ifs, but tonight --
Tonight she sees a different life. “We would have been like siblings.”
He lets out a weak laugh. “I doubt I would have ever felt brotherly toward you, Miss.”
Just the way he says it, so casual, sets her heart to racing.
“Cousins then,” she compromises with a smile, trying not to show how her hands shake, how her cheeks flush. “You could have slept next to me in the loft.”
“You would have kept me up all night with your chattering,” he complains.
Her eyebrows raise. “Me?”
He grins, but it fades in a moment, his breath coming out as a painful rasp.
“You know,” she says, voice tight with fear. “You scared me for a minute there.”
His eyebrow lifts. “Did I?”
“Yes.” Her hand squeezes his. “When you said you had something to tell me.”
“Thought I might scold you for being foolish, Miss?”
She laughs. “No. I thought,” she licks her lips, “I thought you were going to tell me you loved me.”
He takes a long, labored breath.
“Oh, Miss,” he sighs. “I thought that went without saying.”
She never thought she’d see a man so at peace when he confesses. “Obi --”
And with a single rattle, he stops breathing completely.
#obiyuki#my fic#ans#it's pain all the way down kiddos#this is your fair warning#if chapter one was too angsty for you#this is gonna be a hard push
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The Snowdrop: Chapter 2
Lord Haruka was dead. Higata’s apprentice Taki was rattling off a million things she thought and Higata had said and the guard captain who came to the pharmacy was asking for, but that was all Shirayuki heard. He was dead and they needed her to come determine the cause.
The seedlings would have to wait another day. She carefully laid her tools and gloves aside, the sanctuary of the roka greenhouse violated. The peace and lightness she felt in the garden deserted her, responsibility falling like a weight on her back. She had to go back, work with people again.
As the pharmacy door swung silently open, she could hear Higata speaking. “Captain, I could conduct the investigation, but Shirayuki really is the most qualified. She studied poisons with Ryuu when he was here and will be the most familiar with the symptoms. She's the one who identified the Tanbarun poison in the first place, after all.”
The guard captain who replied wasn't someone Shirayuki knew personally. “All the same, Master Higata, are you sure she's the best one for this? You know where she's from.”
Shirayuki was used to this by now. There was a reason she'd taken on as many responsibilities in the garden as she could; the more time she was tending to plants, the less she was getting her heart trampled on by people who used to be so friendly to her. Tanbarun had become synonymous with poison, the massacre of their nobility the terror of their neighbors.
“I will assist her if it will make you feel better, captain, but Shirayuki is the expert. She performs the investigation.” Higata’s tone implied the captain was being an idiot, and his confidence gave her the strength to push open the last door and ignore her icy reception. At least her co-workers still believed in her.
Even in death Haruka was frowning, and Shirayuki paused to collect herself. They'd never had the best relationship, but she understood just how important Haruka was to the royals of Clarines. He'd been nearly an uncle to Izana and Zen, an expert in both domestic and foreign policy. There were few people Zen trusted and respected more, and his loss would be such a blow. No wonder they wanted details about what had happened to him. She steeled herself. She would find everything. Zen was counting on her.
She and Higata did their best, but in the end there were no surprises. Shirayuki came out to address the waiting guard and found that Zen and Mitsuhide had joined him.
This was the worst part of her job. At least Lady Haruka wasn't here too. “He was poisoned, as you already suspected. The symptoms were consistent with black-spine mushroom poisoning, similar to all the descriptions we’ve had out of Tanbarun. Before he died, his wrists were bound and he'd been gagged, but he doesn't appear to have been injured in any other ways.” The thought of proud Lord Haruka tied up made her want to cry.
Zen’s face was stony as she spoke, his eyes distant as though he were seeing something else entirely. Mitsuhide had a hand on his shoulder, but Zen wasn't acknowledging it. His hands clenched and he appeared lost in thought as she finished. The guard captain nodded and held it a hand for her written report, coldly professional throughout. He didn't thank her before he left the room.
She looked to Mitsuhide as the door swung closed and the sound of footsteps faded. Usually this was when he would excuse himself to allow Zen and Shirayuki a minute. It had been weeks now since they’d spoken, and even two minutes alone would be precious. Even a minute. For Zen to return from yet another trip to a loss like this . . . she wanted to comfort him, to hold him and do her part to be his support. He looked devastated.
To be complete, Shirayuki wanted to be held too. She was upset, angry, and frustrated. Death might be inevitable, for as hard as she worked to deter it, but avoidable death, death by violence? That made her furious. For so many nobles in Tanbarun to die by poison, and now Haruka by the same one, she wanted to smash something. She was powerless against this, too late, and blackspines were such a brutal poison.
Mitsuhide wasn’t leaving. She stepped toward Zen for a hug anyway, but he flinched back and Mitsuhide stepped forward. She looked at him in surprise. He was protecting Zen. From her. She backed up, drawing her shoulders in and making herself as small as she could as the air seemed to freeze in her lungs. “I'll go finish cleaning up.” Her eyes burned as she turned away, her heart feeling squashed within her chest. That was a lie. She and Higata had already finished cleaning. Haruka lay there waiting for the priests to come claim him. She didn’t want to go back there, to see him again that way. She’d leave him what dignity he lad left.
The door to the gardens beckoned and Shirayuki ran, eyes blurring. She flung open the door to the tropical greenhouse and dived into the shade between the bananas. There she curled into a ball, broad leaves hiding her from sight and the whispering clatter of the breeze in the leaves covering the sound of her sobs.
When the first wave of mourning subsided a bit, she tried to pull herself back together. There was too much to do to indulge in crying for long. Garrack was in meetings all day, Yatsufusa was off, and Ryuu was long since gone to Wilant. She'd left Higata alone to man the pharmacy and watch all the apprentices, and that just wasn't fair.
Higata said nothing about her red eyes and crumpled uniform, just suggested that she set up a few extra hangover remedies. There was a guard unit coming back from the Tanbarun border and some would be sure to overdo things. The border used to be a soft posting, a quiet crossing between tightly allied nations, but now the tension was barely one step short of a war zone. All of Clarines was holding their breath to see if Tanbarun would cross the line.
She worried constantly about her father and all of her friends on the other side of that line. The Lions of the Mountain were just local peacekeepers in a remote corner of the country. She didn’t think they were in all that much danger. The royal family, on the other hand, she didn't know how to hope for. Everyone knew the king and queen were dead, executed in the revolution. The rumors were less clear on how, whether they were killed in their sleep by an assassin or poisoned like the nobles or beheaded in front of a jeering mob. Some of the most gruesome described their moldering bodies feeding the crows from the walls of their own castle. No reputable eyewitness had come forward yet to be sure.
The fates of Princess Rona and Prince Eugena were less shrouded in uncertainty. Eugena was settled at the court in Ivora, far to the east. He was orphaned, cut off from his twin, and disowned by his country, but at least he was alive. Rona was imprisoned, the new government of Tanbarun insisting she was fine but refusing to let anyone see her. About Raj there had been no kind of news since the revolution. General opinion held that the First Prince of Tanbarun had died in the fight. Shirayuki thought and hoped that was unlikely.
The bell at the front door signaled another patient. Shirayuki hung back, hoping Higata would get there first, but he was in the storage room out of earshot. She paused before entering the front room, gripping her notebook and reminding herself that she was entirely capable of dealing with patients. She used to do this every day. It used to be a highlight of her day, helping people get better. But that was in the past.
The patient was a guard she recognized from the east wing door. He recognized her too, and disappointment was clear on his face. She watched him decide that he really wasn’t that sick after all, sitting up rigidly even as he grimaced with discomfort. She tried to ignore it. Maybe this time politeness would work. “How can I help you, sir?”
It was a nice try. The guard craned sideways, trying to look down the hall. “Is Chief Garrack here? Or Pharmacist Higata?”
She tried not to show how it hurt. She’d treated this man before, stitched his lacerated calf and laughed with him as she bandaged it. He’d begged her to never tell anyone how he injured it sleepwalking, and she’d respected that. They’d shared a moment of camaraderie, and she thought it meant something. She’d thought she’d meant something to a lot of people around Wistal.
She could stand up for herself, insist that she was the pharmacist on duty and that if he was going to be treated, she was going to do it. She’d done it for Ryuu. The situation was no different this time. But she was just so tired. She heard Higata coming up the stairs and excused herself. “I’ll see if Higata is available. Please wait here.” Her eyes stung again as she left the room, but she was so tired of crying too. She felt fragile and unworthy, asking Higata to do something she should have been able to handle herself. This was becoming too common, that he didn’t even question the situation, just accepted the trade with a nod and a charitable look. He handed her the stack of books he was reshelving and headed for the receiving room. She flipped through pages as voices started up in the distance, open and unrestrained. It was only her the guard had a problem with. Nobody wanted to trust a Tanbarunian.
Hiding in corners was becoming far too much of a habit, but Ryuu’s nest under the desk suited her perfectly today. He’d outgrown it since he’d left, but she still fit. It reminded her of better days. Higata called out a farewell when he left for the day, but Shirayuki couldn’t summon the energy to move. She should eat dinner. She should go home and sleep. She didn’t care about either. She kept turning pages as the room got darker, details of the taxonomy of ferns slithering out of her mind as quickly as she read them, and only as the darkness reached the point where she needed to decide between lighting a lamp and giving up did she put down the book. She still didn’t move.
“Miss?” Ah, she wouldn’t be spending the night under the desk after all. Obi was back.
Boots stopped silently in the middle of the room, then Obi’s face appeared upside-down. “Miss.” He could convey so many layers of disapproval with that one word when he wanted. He didn’t have to tell her to come out, to eat dinner and go back to her room and lock her window and get some sleep. She just knew that was what she was going to do now that he was here. She crawled out of the niche, hips aching with the movement after so long, and he offered her a hand up. He teased her about a lost sprig of koko grass clinging to her uniform as she locked up the pharmacy and it was even better than hiding in Ryuu’s spot for feeling normal again.
The hallways were busy at this time of evening. She walked by Obi’s side, listening to him chatter about his day. He had a new Snowdrop story, how the masked hero had rescued Lady Yasmin and her daughters from the execution squad and spirited them out of Tanbarun. Obi was a huge fan. The Snowdrop, master of stealth, deadly with sword and knife, rescuer of nobles and sworn enemy of the Republic of Tanbarun, was swinging from a rope with the two little girls clinging to his arms, when Shirayuki saw a knot of guardsmen coming down the hall in the opposite direction. Almost without thinking, she slowed, sliding in a step behind Obi and halfway hidden by him. Maybe they wouldn’t notice her.
But Obi noticed, slowing himself to match her so she ended up even closer to his back. He watched her quizzically, twisting awkwardly to continue talking to her. Finally he trailed off, stopping and taking in where she was pointedly not looking, eying the group of guards, then looking back to her. “Is there a problem with them, miss?” His voice was quiet, but clear, not a whisper but pitched only for her. It was a voice that tended to precede someone’s destruction by knives or words.
She had to answer, before he got any more protective. “Not them specifically.” There were familiar faces, but nobody she knew by name and thankfully none of the men she’d learned to avoid at all costs. “It’s just been . . . a hard day. First Lord Haruka, and then another patient refused me.”
He went still at Haruka’s name, then frowned. “They shouldn’t get away with that. You’re the best pharmacist there.”
“I am not,” she hissed, scandalized but too afraid to be loud. Someday she hoped to be worthy to be mentioned in the same sentence as Garrack Gazelt, but that would be no time soon.
The guards passed, and Obi encouraged her back next to him with a touch on her shoulder as they started walking again. She wanted to ask what was going on with Zen, but didn’t know how. It seemed disrespectful fishing for information like that, but his behavior today had her frightened. They were all the way back in the east wing, Shirayuki listlessly watching Obi cut up an apple for her, before she was ready to ask. “Is everything okay with Zen?”
His knife stuttered just a fraction in the apple peeling, a hitch anyone could have made. But this was Obi, it meant something. “Master? He’s been very busy. His Majesty has been asking a lot of him.” There was no joke, no deflection, no praise of Zen or reassurance that Zen loved her, no matter what he was or wasn’t doing at the time. That wasn’t his style, so she persevered.
“He’s not angry at me? I haven’t done something?” She knew she hadn’t, really she did, but she couldn’t help asking, maybe even hoping she had. If it was her fault, she could apologize and maybe things would get better. If it wasn’t her doing, what could she do? “It’s not that I’m . . . “
“No!” Obi interrupted, appalled. “It’s not that, miss. And you haven’t done anything, either.” He looked pained, passing her a plate of apple and cheese.
“Then what is it?” She snapped at him, suddenly angry. She was being kept out of things again. She needed her friends and they were shutting her out. She’d thought they trusted her. That at least someone did.
The look in his eyes was trapped. His mouth opened, then closed, as he clearly wracked his brain for what to tell her. He’d seen that look before when he was pinned between orders. “You can’t tell me, I get that.” She started to turn toward her room, but stopped halfway. “At least tell me where you were?”
“Laxdo.” The answer was just a hair too fast, even for Obi’s reflexes. Years ago, in Lyrias, Shirayuki had asked Obi how he was so good at bluffing. He’d walked her through a number of tells for a lie, and while Obi was a very accomplished liar when he wanted to be, sometimes she had managed to catch him. And she remembered. He’d just done it. He’d just lied to her face.
She finished turning and headed to her room, unable to let him see her disappointment. “Good night,” she mumbled, not looking back. She couldn’t count on anyone but herself. She was on her own.
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