Chapter Text
Obi gritted his teeth and smiled until the door latched closed behind Zen, then let his face lapse into the snarl he kept for when he was alone. He'd earned all Zen’s teasing, many times over if he were honest, but he just couldn’t shrug it off the way he wished he could. A log snapped in the fireplace, and Obi pictured clearing his desk, shoveling armfuls of regulations, requisitions, and reports into the fire. The flame would be fast and bright, and all it would do is make more work. He might feel better, but everyone would be so disappointed.
It would be as much as they deserved, putting an opportunist like him in a position like this. He knew nothing about leading, nothing about rules or supply lines or anything useful. He could read, write, sneak into anywhere, and kill a person in more ways than he cared to count. None of that made him qualified to be a Captain. Shikito and Shirayuki were the only things standing between Fort Laxdo and a complete breakdown. His only success so far was keeping the pay on time.
He eyed the fireplace again, wishful, then papers ruffled as he sank into his chair with a sigh. Zen trusted him. Zen was counting on him. The pen weighed far more than any feather should.
Maybe three pieces of paper later, the noise level in the courtyard started to rise. Surely someone would come get him if he was needed. He read another line. On the other hand, disputes among the men tended to resolve themselves when he showed up. He leaned back in his chair, reaching to unlatch the window and letting it swing open.
The voices were all too familiar. When his boots hit the cobbles a few paces from the fracas, idiot Tanbarunian nobles and guards alike were too occupied in arguing to even notice. “-You have no right!” Shikito’s voice rose above the melee.
The leader of the troublemakers turned to Obi, dismissing Shikito now that a higher authority had arrived. “Sir Obi! We caught a spy for you. He was lurking in the forest, doubtless gathering intelligence. But we caught him and brought him here for you.” All six of them were there, from Tarrik, Viscount Something, down to what’s-his-name, the second son of Baron Whatever. Every single issue in the refugee camp, what little was left of it, had these six at its center. If they weren’t trying to recruit an army to march on Tanbarun, they were diverting supplies. Climbing the walls. Setting traps for unwary travelers.
“I was on the road,” growled someone in the back of the crowd. A slim, blonde figure making up for his height with the vehemence of his scowl pushed through his captors. Surprise flickered in his eyes when he recognized Obi, to be immediately replaced by an even greater annoyance. “Coming straight here. I’m here on official business to see Shirayuki, and she’d better be here.”
Sighing yet again wouldn’t be professional. “Untie him,” Obi ordered. “Li, please go inform Medical Officer Shirayuki that Kazuki is here to see her.” She’d be happy to see him, and that would make one person. Trying to summon the memory of the most unimpressed authority figure he’d ever known, he turned to the idiots. He had nothing to say beyond telling them to go away and stop harassing travelers, because nothing he’d ever told them had worked before, but a familiar hand fell on his shoulder as Zen stepped up to his side. The six Tanbarunians dropped to a kneel, one letting out an audible gasp.
“I couldn’t help but overhear.” Zen turned to Obi. “Mind if I?” He tipped his head toward the idiots.
“By all means,” Obi replied.
The full force of the glare of the Prince of Clarines was not to be trifled with. Obi, a connoisseur of disappointed faces, discerned some of the king and a whole lot of Haruka in the look. “I’ve been hearing far too much about you.” Eyes darted to Obi, then back to Zen. “You haven’t accepted any of the places we’ve offered, and now you're kidnapping people off the king's roads. What do you intend to do with yourselves?” There was no noise in the courtyard but the wind. “Are you going back to Tanbarun?”
Feet shuffled, eyes darted from face to face, until in some sort of silent agreement, the six young men nodded.
“Then that’s just what you will do.” Obi’s eyes met Mitsuhide’s. They’d heard this voice before, the moments where there was no question whose brother Zen was, no forgetting he stood merely one step from the throne. He paused, and the air snapped with tension, nobody daring to speak until he finished. “Sir Obi, see that they are provided with an escort to the border. They leave now.”
Obi was as speechless as everyone else, eying the sun where it stood just a few fingers above the wall. It was near shift change, and green squad wasn’t due back from patrol until dark. “Right away, Master.” The slant of Zen’s eyes at that meant he saw the humor in all of this, the scared eyes of the teenaged nobles, Kazuki’s dropped-jaw stare, and Obi’s confusion. It was sudden, summary, but in truth it was always going to end this way. The idiots were determined, and no softer treatment had deterred them. He should have found a way to get through to them long before now, before it was too late. “It should take an hour or so to get ready, enough time for them to go get their belongings.”
He nodded to the boys, who looked to Zen. A light of panic was kindling in some of their eyes, but Tarrik, the leader, was unflappable as usual. He might be a noble son, but he had a career criminal’s calm countenance under pressure. “May I ask a question, Your Highness?” Zen raised an eyebrow, enough invitation to continue. “When the Orphans of Tanbarun have dealt with the usurpers, will you support Prince Raj to come take his rightful throne?”
Zen’s other eyebrow rose to join the first. “Orphans?”
Obi interjected an explanation before things could get any more complicated. “Them. That’s the name of their mischief club.”
“Our secret society!” The tall one with the fancy sword argued, but Tarrik shushed him with a look.
“The Kingdom of Clarines is at peace with the Republic of Tanbarun.” That cost him, Obi could see it in his breath. “Prince Raj has made no such claim, and Clarines will not support any activities that will lead to war.” He took a breath, but restrained himself from anything further, turning his back.
“He had to say that,” one idiot whispered to another in the back of the pack, and Obi gritted his teeth. Another hour and they weren’t his problem anymore.
The guard tower door flew open with a bang, and Shirayuki tripped through the doorframe right into Kazuki. He caught her without stumbling back, staring down at her in surprise. It wasn’t clear whether he was more staggered by her sudden entrance or the fact he was a head taller than her now. He was still striking even with his hair cropped, all pretty face and tasteful dark clothes, and the looks on the spectators’ faces were priceless as Shirayuki pulled back, then burst into tears.
“I’m so glad you’re all right,” she sobbed. His letters had been her only tie to her home for so long, and her only source of information about him since Tanbarun’s fall was one she couldn’t admit to anyone. “How did you find me?”
“The long way.” Kazuki smiled, but there were tears streaking his cheeks as well. “Mukaze said he knew you were safe, but he couldn’t tell me any more than that, so I went to Wistal, since that was where your last letter came from. They turned me around and sent me back here.” He looked up at the walls, smile fading. “It looks like a prison.” Too late, Obi wished they’d gotten Kazuki away before he had to witness a Clarinese prince expelling Tanbarunian nobles. Sending back the troublemakers wouldn’t win them any favors.
Obi turned away to shoo away the extraneous guards. If they had time to gawk, they had time to make themselves useful, so he sent them off to wake up Yellow squad and prepare them for the border, and he was just about to go find himself something to do when Kazuki’s tone of voice changed.
“I wish I were just here to visit.” His words were low, hesitant, as though he were about to say something he’d rather not. “But Mukaze is sick. The doctors can’t find the problem, and he wanted to see you one more time. Before-” His voice trailed off, and Obi didn’t need to see the pain on his face to understand what he meant.
She shouldn’t have to deal with news like this alone. He was beside her in a second, in time for her to fix him with those determined eyes, already decided. He knew before she even opened her mouth. “I’m going.”
“Then we’re going.” She didn’t ask herself if her father deserved anything from her or if it was worth the risk, she just ran to the rescue. He’d seen her do this enough time to recognize it, benefited from it enough not to complain. Shirayuki forged ahead, Obi watched her back. That was the way they worked, and he loved her for it. Arguing with her would be wasted effort.
“But-” she started, looking from Obi to Zen, who had paused as well at the news. “What about Laxdo?”
Zen backed up, hands raised harmlessly. “You think I’d try to keep him from following you?”
Her lips tightened and she looked back to Obi, accusing. He stepped into her circle, close enough to speak privately. “This is why Shikito’s here. Everything will be fine without me.” Better, even, he didn’t add.
“She’ll be just fine with me, I can keep her safe,” Kazuki protested. “If she doesn’t want you to come, just stay here.”
“It doesn’t work that way, kid,” Obi answered, and smirked as Kazuki bristled. The kidnapping may be many years water under the bridge, but no way was he sending her off alone with him. He could feel his back curving into his most insolent slouch, hear the provocation in his voice. “Where she goes, I go. Even into a hostile country. It’s not the first time.”
Kazuki still puffed up like a bird when he was angry. “Tanbarun’s not hostile! To him maybe,” he added, nodding toward Zen, “but not to her! And who are you to make decisions for her anyway-”
“My husband,” interrupted Shirayuki, her voice echoing from the walls like the report of a dropped book. “He makes decisions with me, and we have decided we will travel together.” She paused, onlookers silent with surprise. Nobody argued with that voice. “Come and tell me more while I get the infirmary ready. I want to hear all about his symptoms.” She took off for the stairwell, and Kazuki trailed quietly behind. Nobody spoke until the door swung closed behind them.
***
Zen had a hundred questions for Obi, but he waited patiently as the last few guards drifted away under Obi’s glare and Shikito’s pointed reminders. At last he was alone in the courtyard with Obi and Mitsuhide. “Well, this puts a damper on our plans.”
“Maybe not as much as you’d think. I didn’t have any really good candidates,” Obi said. “I’ve tried, but there’s just something missing.”
“Why not me?” Mitsuhide’s voice was so soft they barely heard it, but when they turned to look he was rigid, head down and fists by his side. “Why not me?” he repeated, louder, meeting Zen’s eyes now with a look he couldn’t parse, something that might be disappointment or anger or hurt. “I’m not your secretary. I’ve done that for you, because that’s what you’ve asked of me, but it’s not what I am! Use me, Zen!” He fell to one knee, hand on his sword hilt.
The courtyard was still empty, but windows ringed the upper walls. While most of Laxdo had at least some suspicion of why their prince disappeared every time he came to stay, some secrets were more open than others. Obi stood back, hand over his mouth and eyes wide. A flash of red was Shirayuki at the infirmary window, solemn and concerned. Kazuki and Kiki looked over Shirayuki’s shoulder, then disappeared back into the dark of the room. Zen looked back down at Mitsuhide, an angle he hadn’t seen in years. “Get up, you don’t have to-”
Mitsuhide met his eyes, and now there was no question but that it was anger on his face. His very hair seemed to bristle with the force of it as he got back to his feet. “You’ve been taking me for granted, Zen. Do I have to prove my skills to you again?” He drew his sword, and Zen fell back a step without conscious decision.
He drew his own in return, fingers cold and coat pulling at his armpits. Mitsuhide was a master swordsman, there was no question about it, he’d never once beaten him when they sparred- but when had that last been? He dredged through his memory, trying to remember the last time he’d fought Mitsuhide. He couldn’t. He’d seen Mitsuhide’s menace before targeted at Atri’s family, at Touka’s mercenaries, but to face it himself wrapped tendrils of fear around his spine. It made him want to retreat, made his heart beat faster. He grinned.
Reflex was all that saved him from Mitsuhide’s rush, sword barely overhead for the block. Boots scraped across the sandy stones with the force of the blow, and his wrists burned. He’d sparred too long with Obi, all misdirection and pinpoint attacks, and fought legions of half-trained and uninspired Tanbarunian soldiers. Mitsuhide would take his head off if he didn’t adjust.
Swinging his weapon back around into a comfortable guard, Mitsuhide let Zen fall back to gather himself. Irritation started to boil beneath Zen’s skin. He wasn’t a student anymore, to be given a handicap. He set his foot for his own rush, but the corner of Mitsuhide’s mouth curled and he faded sideways instead, circling. He wasn’t the hotheaded child Mitsuhide had taught so long ago. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Mitsuhide stooped like a great hawk, sword closing in a graceful arc, poised and powerful and deadly. Zen parried and closed to make the point, throwing his body against Mitsuhide’s and pulling his dagger. He’d prove to him how his style wouldn’t work in Zen’s life, and he’d understand-
The dagger fell from his hand as Mitsuhide tore the sword from his grasp and slammed his elbow. One arm and a hip trapped him, Zen saw sky as his feet lost purchase, and then he was a painful heap on the ground, breathless with Mitsuhide’s boot on his chest and swordpoint at his throat. His sword landed at last, coming to rest against the stones with a forlorn clatter. “I can protect you, Zen. Give me the chance.” Boots scraped on the stones as Mitsuhide stepped back to where he’d started, sheathing his blade.
Zen’s dagger lay just past the tips of his fingers. Mitsuhide never took his eye off him as he rolled to his side to collect it, wiped the grit from the blade, and put it away. He trapped a groan between his teeth, standing, and limped to go pick up his sword as well. There was a new notch in the blade he’d have to have repaired.
Cleaning the sword gave him an excuse not to talk, working in silence and flexing his elbow gently to determine just how deep the bruising went. He’d never seriously considered Mitsuhide. Nothing about him said stealth or secrecy, his honesty and straightforwardness were such an integral part of who his was. But he certainly could fight. Zen brushed dirt from his coat. He certainly could fight.
There was nobody in the world Zen trusted more. “All right.” He tried to look as in control of the situation as he could with pain in his bones and dirt in his hair. “Next time, you accompany me.”
Obi caught his arm, pulling, and he tried to yank it away. Zen was one long stretch of soreness and bruised pride now and being grabbed around the elbow wasn’t helping anything. Obi refused to be shaken off. “Now that that’s settled, I have an issue for you to come take a look at. Good luck, Mitsuhide.” He hustled Zen off at a quick trot. “Keep moving, keep moving,” he mumbled, eyes forward.
Risking being tripped and dragged, Zen craned a look over his shoulder. Mitsuhide was retreating, hands raised in placation. Kiki stalked across the courtyard, footsteps light but eyes blazing, and it was a wonder the stones themselves didn’t shake in fear. Both men picked up the pace, nearly scurrying for the exit, but Kiki’s voice carried in the echoing quiet. “Are you an idiot?”
Even Zen knew there was no right answer to that, but Mitsuhide’s voice remained quiet and sincere as always. “I don’t understand, what do you mean?”
There was a grunt as she punched him in the gut, then Obi closed the door on the silence that followed.
For a moment of stillness, the two men huddled against the guardroom door, neither brave enough to look back outside. When she didn’t follow them, they relaxed again, nearly in unison. Obi poked at the back of Zen’s head, inspecting the bump now rising on the spot, and Zen swatted him away. “My head didn’t hit hard, he mostly just knocked the breath out of me.”
“It was really something to watch. Mister doesn’t flex his muscles like that too often.” Obi grinned appreciatively.
“Stop making that face, that’s disgusting.” Zen jostled him, and he grinned bigger.
“Make me.” Obi pushed back.
Obi won the ensuing wrestling match. He always won. It wasn’t fair, anyway, Zen was already injured. The two men sat shoulder to shoulder against the wall, breathing heavily and grinning. “Are you going to be heading back to the castle now?” Obi stretched his legs out, relaxed.
“Ehhh,” Zen groaned. “Not until I have to. Brother’s being impossible. I love Haki and all, and I’m happy he’s so happy, but he’s decided that by contrast, clearly I must be miserable. He’s pulled out the marriage files again, and this time I think he means it.” As long as he could keep busy and preferably away from Wistal, Izana couldn’t force him into any marriage meetings. Maybe some minor crisis would pop up and rescue him for a while longer.
“Anything out of Tanbarun I should know, now that I’m apparently going back?”
Zen frowned. “Nothing solid. The government’s been quiet and the army’s been active, but I don’t know what’s behind it. It doesn’t feel right, though.” He jabbed Obi with his elbow. “You could always take a look around while you’re there.”
“I’m retired, remember? If I have to go look Mukaze in the face and tell him I’m not that man anymore, I want to be telling the truth.”
Zen grinned at him for a moment, oddly proud, then remembered another Tanbarun issue. “That imposter’s been sighted again, too. He’s been popping up all over the capital, so far just stopping petty crimes and being a nuisance, not blackening our name, but still-”
“Your name.”
“Half of what made the Snowdrop work was you. You don’t get to give it away that easily.”
Obi grunted. “It’s behind me now.” He looked a bit lost, and Zen had to bite his tongue to keep from pressing him. He could win Obi over if he begged, bring him back if he couched it in terms of needing him, but that wouldn't be fair, wouldn't be right. He let it go.
“I guess we’ll stay around Laxdo for a little while, even with you gone. See if I can get Mitsuhide to climb a wall, put some disguises on him.” He thumped his head back against the wall. “This is going to be so hard.”
“I’m sure you’ll have Sir in skirts in no time.” His shoulder shook against Zen’s with suppressed giggles. “Make sure Miss Kiki gets to see. I’m sorry I’ll miss it. Instead I’ll be off eating road dust and sleeping on the ground.” He sighed.
It had to be said. “You do realize this feels like a trap.”
“It does. But Shirayuki would never believe that, Mukaze wouldn’t risk her, and to be perfectly honest, Kazuki is not the one I’d send out with the bait.”
“Me either. But be careful.” Obi stood, and Zen followed.
“I always am.” That wasn’t reassuring. “Now I just have to survive a week on the road with Kazuki. Any idea what I should pack to stuff in my ears?” They laughed together, heading up the stairs.