Chapter Text
The bar looked the same as always. It was a comforting sight after years and years on the road. The brown of the wood and the black tar shingles never changed despite the years that had passed since her first memory at five years old. The only thing that changed were the plants filling up the windows and porches. The ones she mailed to her grandparents for safekeeping with explicit instructions on how to plant and care for them.
She always sent a satchel of extras to save for when she returned for good just in case they killed them on accident. She was the herbalist, not her bar-owning grandparents. Judging by the look of the forest outside the door to the residence above, she needn’t have worried.
With her key, she unlocked said door and stepped inside. Her boots were discarded on the shelf to her right where only two more sets awaited, another pair of boots and her house slippers. It was odd that her grandmother didn’t leave her shoes by the door, especially since she was always harassing her grandfather about tracking dirt into the house. Maybe she was helping her sister the next town over and decided to stay the night.
Padding down the hall in her slippers with her travel bag over one shoulder and her apothecary satchel bumping against her hip, Shirayuki was about to open her bedroom door when a knife suddenly slipped under her chin and a large arm banded around her shoulders and arms.
“You picked the wrong house to ransack.” A dark voice rumbled against her back.
“I’m not ransacking,” she snarled back, “I live here!”
The knife immediately dropped from her throat. She was roughly turned to face a really tall figure. Gold, cat-like eyes roved over her face, as if he could see her in the dark hallway. Which was impossible, even she couldn’t see in this darkness. The only reason she knew where she was going was by memory. If it weren’t for his glowing eyes, she wouldn’t have even known he was there.
“It’s you!” He breathed in surprise. “It’s really you, Miss!”
Those large arms encircled her again, this time in a more gentle hug than the hold he had her in earlier.
“I assume that makes you Obi,” she chuckled tiredly. The adrenaline of having a knife to her throat had worn off. That combined with her exhaustion from traveling meant she was bone tired. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from my grandpa’s letters.”
A noncommittal hum was his first response. He backed up, but kept a hold of her shoulders. “I hope only good things were said about me,” white teeth flashed in the night from his grin before it disappeared, “but we can talk about things in the morning. There’s much to discuss, Miss.”
Her yawn nearly cracked her jaw with its intensity. “Sounds good. Good night-er- or good morning, Obi.”
“Good night, Miss. Sleep well.”
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The clanking of pots and pans was her greeting when Shirayuki wandered into the bar’s kitchen at mid-morning. It looked like she slept right through the bar’s opening for the day.
What shocked her more was finding a tall man with olive skin and messy black hair. Obi, she assumed since he was about the same size as the man from last night. He was much more handsome than her grandparent's letters led her to believe. When he turned to face her, face flushed from the heat if the oven, she noticed the tiny scar near his hairline. Kairi, the barmaid, was also in the kitchen with him prepping for the day.
Shirayuki’s grandfather was nowhere to be found. Nor had her grandmother returned from her trip. Maybe her grandfather went with her. Those boots from last night were most likely Obi’s and there was only the one pair next to her house slippers.
“Good morning, Miss! Hope you slept well,” his gaze shifted to the barmaid currently sweeping the floor, “can you give us a minute, Kairi?”
“Don’t ya think tha gal should hear it from someone she knows? Not some stranger she met in tha middle of tha night?”
A shout of her name from the bar was the answer she got to her question. From what Shirayuki could hear, there were only a couple people getting an early meal or some regulars looking for their liquid lunch. With a withering look shot at Obi, Kairi yelled back to the man telling him to hold his horses.
Despite her brash nature, her grandparents refused to get rid of Kairi. The older woman started there when Shirayuki was about seven years old. She stuck around, even when times were tough due to a recession. Eventually, she became part of the bar’s personality. After a while, people came just to hear how she sniped at ornery old men or the ones who were so drunk they grew loose with their lips and, even worse, their hands. Kairi destroyed many a serving tray bashing men’s fingers or skulls with them. Her grandparents always had a large stock of them for those days that men didn't take no for an answer. A “worthwhile investment if it kept those boys’ hands to themselves” her grandmother always said.
There was also how Kairi took on the role of a mother to Shirayuki. Shirayuki practically grew up with her kids, Haku and Hina, who were respectively two years older and a year younger than her. When her grandparents were busy or she needed an adult’s opinion that wasn’t two generations old, she went to Kairi for advice. Sometimes she just needed to vent. Especially in her awkward teenage years before she started her travels around the world.
“Have a seat, Miss,” Obi waved to a stool by the kitchen counter, “I’ve got some glazed buns with your name on them.”
How did he-of course he knew her favorite foods. Half the menu was dedicated to Shirayuki’s wandering palette. The sweet rolls were the first thing she craved when she returned home. It was also the first thing in the oven in the morning so they’d be nice and warm when Shirayuki awoke. Her grandfather always made sure she had her favorite morning meal when she returned.
“Gotta say, that portrait-thing you sent doesn’t do you justice,” Obi bent to take a pan out of the oven with six massive glazed buns decorating the top, “you’re much prettier in person.”
“You mean the picture?” at his grinning nod she continued, “isn't it cool? Just a click and you have a piece of paper with whatever scene you were pointing at. Of course you have to develop the pictures in a dark room with certain chemicals for it to come out right. If there’s any light before they’re developed, they just come out as a white blur or black square instead of the picture you want. The one I sent was actually the fourth one because I failed developing it the first three times-
“Oh-ah-“ her cheeks heated up, “I’m sorry for rambling-“
Obi cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Don't be sorry. I’ve been waiting years to hear about your adventures from more than a letter. Some of the stuff you wrote about was very interesting.”
It was then that she remembered how the conversation came about. “So why am I prettier in person than the picture?”
She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer. It was always the same compliments: what beautiful hair you have, I’ve never seen a shade of red so bright, your hair is so pretty. It got old, to the point where Shirayuki spent a majority of her travels with a scarf tired over her hair. Sometimes she even put a charcoal stain to dye it. Her favorite place in her travels was Deshmeru where it was common for women to cover their heads with scarves. She blended right in other than her pale skin.
“Ah,” Obi reached up to scratch at the back of his head, “it was actually your smile. It seems more genuine now than in the picture.”
That brought a relieved grin to her face. “Thanks Obi. That’s very nice of you to say.” Her cheeks heated again. She shook her head in an attempt to get her blush to go away.
She decided to change the subject when that didn’t work. “By the way, when are Grandpa and Grandma coming home? I’m surprised they left and didn’t close while they were gone.”
Obi’s cheerful grin froze. His whole body tensed. It was like he went from casually leaning against the counter to a stone statue. She’d seen plenty of carvings in more relaxed poses than Obi’s attempt at staying composed.
He took a deep breath in before letting it out. “I don’t know how to say this-“
“Obi just say it.”
Shirayuki hated when people tried to treat her like some fragile damsel. Over the last eight years she helped fight bandits and got herself away from a kidnapper. There was even a time where she jumped out of a tower to save an endangered species of bird. Shirayuki was far from delicate. Whatever Obi wanted to say, she could handle it.
“Miss, your grandparents passed away a couple years ago.”
Shirayuki could handle anything. Anything except that.