Sweet as Belladonna: Chapter II
An Akagami no Shirayuki-hime (Snow White with the Red Hair) fanfic
The little farmhouse stands out from the fields like a lighthouse. This is the first sign of people they’ve seen since leaving the inn two nights ago. Obi’s eyes narrow as he surveys the land around them. Eventually he nods and gestures for her to lead the way.
It’s a pretty little place, clean, though old and patched up in several places, and it seems like a nice place to live, if a little lonely. She keeps to the little dirt path all the way up, then knocks on the door. It opens, the painted wood perfectly framing the poised, middle-aged woman with a lined, tanned face. Her pink, flowered dress hangs loose, and one empty sleeve is pinned to the back. She frowns and looks between Obi and Shirayuki. “And who are you?”
Obi steps forward with his usual charming smile. “I’m Nanaki, and this is Yuki. We saw your fields here and hoped, considering the season, you might have some work for us.”
The woman purses her lips and looks them up and down. “As a matter of fact, I do, but I can’t offer more’n a meal and bed.”
“That’s fine,” Obi says, and Shirayuki can’t help her small sigh of relief. It’s only been two days, but that was sufficient to remind her how uncomfortable it is to sleep on the ground with only a cloak to keep warm. She doesn’t make a very good runaway.
The woman’s face softens, and she gestures for them to come inside. A pair of men’s boots rest inside the door, and a man’s hat hangs beside it, but otherwise, there is no sign of a second occupant.
“So, Nanaki and Yuki you said, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well my name is Tenka. There’s an extra bed for you in the attic. Not many blankets, but it stays warm up there, so you should be fine.” She goes over to the counter and pulls out several potatoes and a knife. “Have some supper, then bed. I’ll put you to work in the morning.”
“Oh, but we can–” Shirayuki begins, but Tenka cuts her off, waving the knife.
“I have a lot of work for you in the morning, so get up your strength tonight.” She points the tip of the knife at Obi. “You can take those bags upstairs.”
Obi hesitates, eyes darting around the room, before grinning and sliding Shirayuki’s bag from her shoulder. Tenka points out a ladder, and in a flash, he’s scrambled up it, into the attic.
Shirayuki steps forward. “I can help with supper, at least.” She glances curiously from the knife to the potatoes. She’s never tried to chop vegetables without a second hand to hold them steady. She probably could if she had to, but it would be difficult and slow. “Let me cut–”
“Don’t worry about these potatoes. I can handle them myself. Go stir that pot if you’re so worried about making yourself useful.”
She looks to the stove, and, sure enough, a large pot bubbles over it. As she stirs, she can’t help but glance over at Tenka, who sets one of the potatoes between several wooden pegs sticking out of the counter and begins chopping smoothly. Several more pegs are set various distances away. Shirayuki realizes her mouth is hanging open and shuts it with a snap, turning back to the pot.
“Fastest I’ve ever seen you cook a meal,” Obi says from her shoulder. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
“Oh, shush!” She aims an elbow at him, but he side-steps and ends up beside Tenka.
“We do appreciate this,” he says.
Tenka gives a decided shake of her head. “You just happened to come at the right time. Our hired hand quit recently. My husband went to town to find someone new, but the work around here don’t just stop while he’s gone.”
She scoops up potato slices and tosses them into the soup. “You seem to have it hard enough right now. I’m guessing disapproving parents–” Shirayuki frowns. Disapproving of what? “–and you don’t gotta explain, but a young, friendly couple like you, there’s only so many things that chase you from home, and newlyweds always make me sentimental.”
Shirayuki leans further over the pot, hoping the steam will account for her burning face. Just thinking about Obi politely asking her father for permission to marry her, and her father denying it . . .
A laugh bursts from her lip, and she clamps her hand over her mouth. The whole thing is ridiculous, especially since–
Now she really can’t stop laughing. Obi’s staring, probably wondering if she’s going mad. She’s wondering the same thing. “Oh, we’re just like my parents!”
Okay, she didn’t mean to say it exactly like that. Maybe Tenka had a point about the long day.
Obi looks stricken for some reason her sleep-deprived brain won’t explain. “Miss!”
She covers her mouth again. She’s made a mistake somehow. “Sorry.”
Tenka isn’t paying attention to Obi, instead tossing in some carrots (when did she chop those?), and taking the spoon from Shirayuki. “Seems they’d be more sympathetic then. Sit.” Shirayuki obeys. “I don’t understand forbidding young love like that anyway. Seems a sure-fire way to make the kids elope.” Neither Obi nor Shirayuki have a response to that.
Obi’s quiet through the meal, and that’s when Shirayuki realizes she’s not the only one who’s tired. They finish the meal quickly and help clean up, then Tenka sends them to bed.
The attic is warm, and it makes Shirayuki even sleepier as she searches out her nightgown. She goes back down to find the washroom, and when she climbs back up, she finds Obi lying on the ground, one of the threadbare quilts folded up beneath him.
A week ago, she would have told him to get up, that the bed was big enough for two, but–
Lips hot, insistent against hers, fingers pressed into her sides
–Maybe it’s good to keep a little distance at the moment.
She whispers good night as she climbs into bed, but no answer comes.
When she wakes up the next morning, Obi is already gone. She dresses quickly and finds he isn’t downstairs either. Tenka comes outside, carrying a small basket with several eggs and sets it on the counter. “Nanami’s outside working. He didn’t want to wake you yet.” Shirayuki frowns, but says nothing. Tenka gestures to a dwindling loaf of bread. “You can have some of that for breakfast, and there’s some milk too. How are you with animals?”
“Umm . . .” She grew up in a tavern, not a farm. She likes animals well enough, but she’s not confident in her abilities with them.
“Hmm. I’ll find other things for you then.”
After breakfast comes a torrent of cleaning, harvesting vegetables, and cooking, which gives her a lot of time to think about what this new life will look like. She doesn’t see Obi until she’s sent out to bring him lunch, by which time she’s perfected her arguments.
She doesn’t find him with the livestock, or in the fields, which confuses her at first, until she hears the rhythmic thumping and follows it into the woods. Obi’s there, chopping wood . . . without a shirt. Right. Well. It’s hot out, and he’s been working since early this morning, and he’s out here alone.
Besides her.
“I brought you lunch!”
Thunk
“Ah, thanks, Miss.” He lets the ax fall into one of the logs before coming to her. Sweat runs from his hairline, down his neck, and down his chest (she’s not staring, it’s just an observation), so she hands him the water first. He downs it in one go.
She takes the cup and hands him the sandwich, keeping her gaze firmly on his face. “You shouldn’t call me that.”
His brows furrow as he takes a bite. “Then what should I call you?”
She takes a deep breath. “I need a new name.” His eyebrows shoot up, but he continues chewing in silence. “You have other names. Lots of them, you said, because you don’t want people to find you, right? Well I can’t have people find me either, so I need a new name.”
He swallows and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “An alias can also be dangerous. People pay more attention if you slip up.”
She yanks on the end of her ponytail. “I’m already memorable enough as it is. Something needs to change.”
He stares at her, face impassive, until he finishes his sandwich, then shrugs. “Pick something close to your real name to make it easy to remember. Tell me what it is when you decide.”
She watches him pick up the ax and keep working. She wonders what the first name he picked was, and if it was close to his given one.
That night, she crawls to the end of the bed and stares down at him on his pallet. “Obi? What changed in Lyrias? I mean, why did you have to leave after so long?”
He doesn’t bother to open his eyes. “Try asking ten different people for their ideas of revenge, then give them about ten years to fight it out. See how many times they change their minds.” She rests her chin on her arms and watches his chest rise and fall as he breathes.
“Go to sleep, Miss.”
She’s collecting water for the washing when she spots the walnuts. Or, more accurately, she steps on one and almost rolls her ankle. She picks it up and is about to toss it aside, when she remembers her conversation with Obi the day before. She tucks it in her pocket.
It’s not a decision. She’s just . . . keeping it. In case.
She makes several trips to fill the washtub, and by the end, her arms are trembling and her pockets are full of walnuts. She’s done plenty of washing in her life, but clearly she’s become to used to spending her days studying.
She decides the washtub can wait a minute, and goes inside to find Tenka. “May I use a pot?” That’s not necessarily a decision either.
“In the cupboard.”
There’s no mortar or pestle, but rocks washed in the stream work just as easily to grind the walnut shells. Tenka watches in silence as she puts the powder into a pot with some water and sets it to boil.
“I used to work as an herbalist,” she explains, though she knows that’s not why the older woman is watching.
The washtub is set right outside the open door, so it’s no trouble to keep an eye on the boiling pot as she works. After the clothes are done, she comes inside to find that Tenka pulled the pot off the stove to cool. Tenka stirs it a couple times, then gestures to a chair she pulled out. “Sit.”
This is a decision. Now that the time has come, it’s easier than she expected, even easier than last time. She sits.
Tenka has a comb, basin of water, scarf, and what looks to be gardening gloves already laying out. “Thank you,” Shirayuki says. She’s never done this before, and she’s sure she would have made a mess of it.
“Mmhmm.” The ribbon tying back her hair pulls, and her hair spills around her shoulders. A blanket wraps around her.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t think–”
Tenka waves away her concerns. “The blanket’s old, and I don’t like it anyway.” Shirayuki bites her lip and doesn’t protest again.
The water is warm, and Tenka’s hand working through her hair feels good. She closes her eyes and lets some of the worry from the past few days drift away.
“Does your Nanaki know about this?”
He–he’s not hers. He doesn’t belong to anyone. The words settle as a warmth in her chest anyway.
“No.” She hasn’t given much thought to what he’ll think, but she starts to worry now, just a little.
“Hmm.”
She doesn’t look when Tenka finishes, just lets the older woman wrap her hair in the scarf, tucking it all up to let it dry and keep it from touching everything else. She goes back to the laundry, hanging the soaking garments, and letting the sun dry her hair along with them. She feels off-balance every time she moves, and reaches up to adjust the scarf. She prefers ponytails.
She fixes supper that night, using one of her Opa’s old recipes, and welcomes the memories and stray tears. Everything is changing, once again, and she clings to the past, to every one of her old homes and the people attached to them.
Obi appears right as she finishes cooking, and somehow that’s what makes it click: he’s done this before. She doesn’t know much about his past, about his jobs before he met her and Zen, but clearly not all of them were so dangerous or illegal.
She wonders what made him leave.
He casts an odd glance at her scarf when they sit down to eat, but doesn’t bring it up. She doesn’t either.
She’s still wearing it when she goes to change into her nightgown. She’s never considered herself to be a vain person, and when she cut her hair before, she never gave it another thought, but now, it feels terrifying to let Obi know what she’s done. She–she wants him to approve somehow.
She tugs on one corner of the scarf, and it all comes tumbling down. She stares at her reflexion in the tiny mirror. She likes it. She does. So why can’t she make herself go upstairs?
She’s tired. She needs sleep, and she’s being stupid. She forces her feet to move, forces herself up the ladder, and finds Obi sitting on his pallet, waiting for her.
“Is everything–” His eyes widen. “Miss.”
She runs a self-conscious hand through her now-dark auburn hair. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.
He stands up and crosses to her, and for a moment, she’s sure he’s going to run his fingers through her hair like . . . like before, but he stops, with plenty of room between them. And he keeps staring at her.
“What did you do?"
The words feel like cold water thrown on her. She takes a step back. “Do you–is it that bad?”
“Why?”
It’s not an answer, and she doesn’t know why her heart sinks. “I told you, my hair was too recognizable. It’s better now.” He looks so pained, and anger bubbles up in her, forcing itself out in the tears pricking her eyes. Why does everyone care so much about her hair? She thought Obi at least wouldn’t. “Do you hate it that much?”
Surprise crosses his face, and he shakes his head. “No, that’s not . . . You shouldn’t–you shouldn’t even be here. You shouldn’t have to give up . . . just because of me . . .”
Oh.
Oh.
She steps forward and grabs his hands, tightening her grip when he flinches. “No. I decided to come, remember? I chose this. I chose to leave, to dye my hair, all of it.” He won’t meet her eyes. “I want it darker, actually, but Tenka said it would take a few more times to get it the way I want.”
He pulls his hands from hers and steps back, but slowly his eyes drift back to hers. “It’ll look good.”
She smiles and runs her hand through it again. “I like it.” He doesn’t look like he believes her, so she says again, “I like it. It’s different.”
One side of his mouth quirks up. “It’s certainly that.”
“And I’m glad I can keep it long this time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Until I left Tanbarun, I always wore my hair long, so it’s nice that I don’t have to cut it again.”
His brow furrows. “Have to? You didn’t want to cut it?”
She shrugs. “Well, I guess I kind of did, but only cause I was mad at Raj and wanted to make him mad too.”
“What?”
She doesn’t see what’s so confusing about it, but–
Oh. Oh no.
She can’t remember ever telling Obi why she left Tanbarun. He never asked, but somehow she always assumed someone else had mentioned it.
“Miss, I don’t understand. What about the prince?”
She had been surprised, considering how protective he was of her, that he hadn’t been worried about leaving her alone with Sakai and Raj. Now, she supposes it makes sense.
“When I left Tanbarun . . .” He nods. He’s worried now, and she feels guilty. She just really doesn’t want to make him mad right now. “It was because Raj wanted me to be his concubine.”
Silence hangs in the air like glass about to shatter.
“He what?" No, he’s not mad, he’s furious. “Miss, please tell me–” He drags a hand down his face. “And he made you go back?” She doesn’t have to ask who he is. “And I just let . . .”
She folds her arms. “I went back because I wanted to.” He opens his mouth, then clamps it down hard. “I did, and I didn’t tell you all that just to make you mad at yourself.”
“Too late,” he mutters.
She sighs and clenches her fists. “I’m not–I’m not your responsibility anymore. I’m not a princess, and you’re not my bodyguard. We’re just . . . us. So let me be here with you. Let me help you and make my own choices.” She bites her lip, then bursts out, “And if you wake up first, wake me up too!”
His mouth hangs open through her speech, then snaps shut. He nods once, and she deflates. “Good. Then . . . I’m going to bed.”
Besides that night at the inn, she can’t remember him ever touching her hair. Even when he gave her the pin he won, she remembers only his fingers on the metal of the ornament, not her hair.
He never touches her either, unless absolutely necessary, which only serves to make those few occasions stand out in stark detail. He keeps up the pattern here, skirting around her in close quarters in that way only he can, but–
Ever since their conversation after she dyed her hair, it seems her hair is fair game.
She doesn’t understand what changed, but he tugs her ponytail like a schoolboy, brushes her bangs out of her eyes, and ties it back for her when it gets in the way.
And every time her brain stops working.
The worst part is he knows exactly what’s happening and he thinks it’s funny. It’s cruel, is what it is. They’ll be in the middle of a conversation, he’ll tug on a strand of hair next to her face, and she’ll lose her train of thought. He’ll wait, innocently, patiently, for her to collect her thoughts again, but she sees his lips curling into a smirk, and she knows he does it on purpose.
So she decides to give him a taste of his own medicine.
“Good morning!” she chirps to Tenka as she comes downstairs for breakfast. Just as she asked, Obi’s woken her every morning when he gets up. He’s halfway through breakfast now, but she catches him staring. She turns her head so he can’t see her grin.
“It’s pretty,” Tenka says, bypassing the small talk.
Shirayuki smiles and tilts her head to show off the ornament better as she taps the orange bead. “Thank you. I think it looks much nicer in the brown hair than the red.” She’s not one to fish for compliments, but she can’t resist turning to Obi and asking, “don’t you think?”
His face is blank as he takes the last bite, chews it, swallows, then says, “I didn’t know you brought it with you.”
Her smile slips away. “Of course I did! It’s important to me.”
He doesn’t meet her eyes or speak again as he carries his dishes to the sink and washes them. Then he slips out the door without another sound.
Tenka pats her shoulder. “Don’t worry too much. Boys can be oblivious sometimes. They miss what’s right in front of them.”
Shirayuki frowns and doesn’t say, not Obi. Not him.
Next chapter coming soon!