Wishes
An Akagami no Shirayuki-hime (Snow White with the Red Hair) Fanfic
Three wishes.
At least, that’s what the fairytales say. She doesn’t know if that applies to goblins or just fairies and genii, but she’s desperate, and if this goblin is going to keep insisting she’s not his bride, well . . . she might as well take the opportunity.
“I need a job.” The words tumble out, far from the usual respectful tone she would usually use with a ghost.
His gold eyes widen, darting away, and–
That’s backwards. Shouldn’t she be afraid of him?
“Chicken shop,” he says. “Ah, I mean, look for a chicken shop.”
She can work with that.
*
This is the last chicken shop on her list, and she braces for the rejection she knows is coming.
The owner asks a few polite questions, like this is an actual interview, and she didn’t just barge in begging for a job, but the place is empty besides the two of them, and from the woman’s complaints, this is usually the case.
“Hmm.” The owner tosses her auburn hair over her shoulder and swings her hip to lean against the table. “You’re cute.” She taps Shirayuki’s nose. “You’re sure to bring in customers.”
“O–oh.” Shirayuki clutches at a lock of hair. “Um–”
“Your face,” the owner clarifies as she tucks a hat over Shirayuki’s hair. “The hat’s required.”
She’s not wearing a hat, but Shirayuki doesn’t argue.
“I need a safe place to live.”
“Safe?” The goblin’s eyebrows furrow. “Are you in some kind of trouble, Miss?”
Raj’s face pops into her mind, unbidden, but she doesn’t want to complain about her landlord to a stranger. “Oh, ah, no!” She waves her hands as though the movement might erase her words. “I meant, um, quiet?”
*
It’s funny how similar her goblin and her boss are. 2 for 1 coupons clutter the counter, and she imagines the goblin taking one. A job and a safe place to sleep. Two wishes for the price of one.
When she lays on one of the booths and folds up her hoodie as a pillow, though, she can’t be upset. In Touru’s restaurant, she feels the safest she can remember since her grandparents died.
*
(She didn’t even think to ask for a place she could be happy, but weeks later, as she sits on a comfy couch, surrounded by her textbooks and listening to her goblin and reaper in the kitchen arguing over spices . . .
Well. It’s nice she didn’t have to.)
The last one is the hardest. “I–I want a boyfriend,” she mumbles into her scarf.
It’s . . . it’s silly. She knows it’s silly, but is it that bad just to want one person to care about her?
“No.”
That’s the only one he’s argued against, and the surprise sends her eyes flying up to meet his. “Wh–what?”
He shakes his head, carefully avoiding her gaze. “Changing fate always causes problems. Trust me.” His shoulders curl in and she imagines smoothing them back out under her palms–but of course he’s not looking for comfort from a near stranger. “I just don’t want you to regret it.”
*
“You only gave me two wishes,” she reminds him, nudging his hip with hers as they walk down the street. “You never did get me a boyfriend.” She feels comfortable teasing him now, and she expects that slant of a smirk as he leans into her space.
“You’re the one always insisting we’re married. Or are you cheating on me already, Miss?”
She can’t quite hide her shiver at the low purr in his voice, so she focuses on maneuvering her straw between ice cubes to reach the last couple sips of her coffee. “Well you said that was never going to happen.” She lifts her chin and skips a couple steps ahead, proud when her voice remains steady as she says, “I just thought I’d explore my options.”
She can’t quite resist glancing back to see him staring open-mouthed after her.
*
If she didn’t know better, his slow, steady breathing would make her think he was asleep.
She doesn’t let it stop her, though. She feels warm and safe tucked into his side like this, and she wishes it could last.
She traces her fingers down his cheeks, down the tracks his tears had left the night before. She can still feel the phantom remnants of her own. The only sign that he notices is the twitch of his foot where it lays across her ankles and a slight flutter of his eyelashes.
Her hand slides down to lay flat against his chest, where she can still see the ghostly glow of the sword that killed him. She still can’t touch it. Small blessings, she supposes. They have a little time. More, now that he’ll finally stop running from her.
A hand curls around her wrist, drawing it away from his chest, and she finds herself staring into gold eyes.
He studies her face for a long moment, tracing it with his gaze as she traced his with her touch just a moment before. Then, finally, his voice breaks the silence. “I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. For telling her the truth? For waiting so long to tell it? For saving her life all those years ago? For allowing her so close?
She doesn’t have words to answer him right now. She’s angry, hurt, scared–but through it all, she loves him and doesn’t want to waste any more of their precious moments together, so she tucks her head into his shoulder and closes her eyes, just breathing him in.
*
“I–I told you,” he gasps, and she wants to scream at him, to tell him not to waste his breath on something like this. “You’d regret it.”
She shakes her head, tears clogging her vision as she presses tight to his wound. Blood pools, no longer staunched by the sword. Her phone lies beside her, still on the line from when she called an ambulance. She knows it won’t reach them in time.
He hadn’t even hesitated to protect her, as he’s done over and over since even before she was born. Hadn’t hesitated, though he’d known it would kill him once again.
“I don’t.” Something in his face tightens, though she doesn’t think it’s from the pain.
So she promises, “I won’t regret it. Not ever.”