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Sleep is one thing Aizawa’s been aching for. Travel leaves little room for his preferred sleep, curled up somewhere warm, having been soaked with sunshine with Grumpy curled up on his abdomen and Spoon kneading his legs. He rarely indulges in the preferred method, rather he's learned to settle for whatever's available.
Today, he's receiving a rare indulgence: a royal's study. Usually, he and his companions are given a room with a promise to bring food and wine. Toshinori offers them more, giving over his study and insisting that the group rest. He sinks into the cushy couch. Perhaps, later Toshinori will offer them a long uninterrupted soak and he can completely chase off the aching in his muscles. He tries, desperately to stay awake for a second longer to check whether Oboro can ask. He has a way of convincing.
Aizawa’s too tired, though, and sinks into a well-deserved sleep.
Hizashi watches his companion sleep, relieved that his skills are unnecessary.
Usually, he’s the one easing him into sleep with a poem or song. Everyone prefers the latter, claiming his singing could lull even the fiercest creature to sleep. He's tempted to sing now, a low lazy tune appropriate for naps.
Everyone is expecting him to relax, as though he's ever been skilled in that area. Usually, he and Nemuri have a ‘competition’ over who can lull the group to sleep sooner.
In his opinion, he has the advantage. Every single lullaby and poem and story is tucked into his mind, written in his worn leather-bound book, Even he, who struggled with sleep finds it tempting to slump over and snore while reading his own work. Nemuri has been gaining an edge over him, though.
She watches him with a smirk, one finger tapping on her chin as she whispers.
“Go to sleep. . .” Her voice is silken and warm. “You'll feel much better with sleep.”
Hizashi rubs his eyes and tries, desperately to stay upright. “You are gaining an unfair advantage now. I swear you are getting more powerful. Just one blink and you could knock down a whole village.”
People assume she's used to receiving praise. Nemuri’s skilled, too. Whether she's feigning a smile under the attention or attempting to lull someone to sleep. Men and women love coming up to her, whether she's traveling on the road or daring to unwind in a tavern. Nemuri usually leaves her long hair loose to cover her ears rather than deal with some stranger coming up, asking whether she's a real elf, a true one with two purebred parents. Praise is rarely heaped on her, and it's usually ingenuine rambling by drunkards. Praise by her companions is real and leaves her skin dusted pink.
“You should be offering gratitude for Desna. Without her, there would be no restful sleep or dreams.”
Hizashi’s determined to fire back that he does offer his gratitude. Maybe his expression is different, offering gratitude to her through his companions' work. Oboro shushes them, though.
“You're going to wake Sho and our beloved kitties. Need I remind you, that Grumpy will seek revenge?”
They giggle despite his warming. Grumpy is a vengeful creature. Interrupt his sleep and he's going to make waking you up his personal goal. It can go on for a week. It can last for a day or even a year. Oboro’s managed (barely) to avoid his wrath, usually by placating him with food reserved for ‘special’ occasions and never fussing when he's chosen as the cat's new bed.
Hizashi and Nemuri’s fun is momentary. Grumpy’s paw twitches and the two go rigid. Is he going to wake. . .? Hizashi tries to remember lullabies that can calm even the fiercest creature, otherwise, he's going to have to wake Shoto. Grumpy relaxes into the cushy rug, though and the room relaxes.
“Remember our rules: I give one warning and then? You're expected to deal with Grumpy. I offer no help.”
Hizashi can’t keep the whine from his whisper. “Can I have a warning and some help?”
Oboro fights a smile. He's tempted. . . Well, he's almost tempted to wake Grumpy and risk a claw for one purr and snuggle. He settles for Spoon, the far more snuggly one.
Spoon loves being held and snuggled, whether he’s sleeping or watching for danger during travel. There's no danger now, and he's settled for Toshinori’s desk. Spoon’s blazing orange fur is a shock against the dark wood, and he's completely oblivious to the papers being rumpled and ruined beneath his body.
“Spoon. . .” Oboro sing-songs. “Care to indulge a paladin for the evening?”
Spoon gives his paw one more lick and a long stretch, sending some paperwork scattering. Oboro watches and tries to brace for the leap and landing.
Unfortunately, tonight he's playing a common and cruel game. There he goes, giving the standard wiggle prior to a brave leap, and his tail twitches. Then, he plops down on the desk with a long and loud mew. Hizashi and Nemuri clap a hand over the other one's mouth, desperately attempting to muffle their respective cackles.
“I think someone’s stuffed from Toshinori's celebration meal. . . I don't want to believe our beloved companion would give such a cruel dismissal. I, personally, am too stuffed for dessert. Perhaps, Hizashi can offer us something other than food?”
They share one more muffled giggle and lie back on the cushy rug. Everything is peaceful and hushed, and Oboro is overwhelmed with love for his companions. It's rare that the whole group can indulge and relax. Even when the group goes to some tavern or inn, Nemuri, and Hizashi prefer that everyone else is cared for.
Even now, the latter is messing with Nemuri’s hair, removing the little tangles he stumbles on. Nemuri sighs deeply and smiles as he curls a strand around his finger.
“I know a story. . .” She murmurs. “Can you guess which tale I’d love to hear?”
“Is the tale embarrassing for Oboro? I think it could be when I had to save him and our friendship began.”
Oboro can't help smiling. It's a favorite tale among the group and one that is frequently shared with whoever is willing to hear the tale.
“I’m going along a path and minding my business. I completed some work and was eager to relax. . .” Hizashi pauses. “No one could imagine the devastating change that my path would suffer. I imagined a long uninterrupted soak complete with wine and too much food. Someone was shrieking for help though.”
Oboro’s never ‘shrieked’ in his existence. Hizashi loves giving a little drama to his stories. He gives a long pause for the scene to sink in and continues.
“I was determined to help. I would have given my soul to save the child, shrieking and attempting to fight off some dangerous animal.. . . There he was.”
No one is ready to remember the ‘uglier’ pieces.
Truthfully, the whole thing was relatively minor. Oboro ignored the doctors urging him to give his aching muscles and clearly injured leg another week to recover. Instead, he shrugged off the pain and limped home or tried.
He managed to go pretty far. . . Until he tumbled over a rock. Maybe he did shriek. He was in severe pain, though with his already mangled leg. Then a stone was wedged into his skin, further cementing that he would, in his pain-fueled mind, be forced to die there.
“I could never leave him. . . I knew there was one solution. Move him somewhere that he could recover.”
Oboro can’t conceal a laugh. Much as he loves recalling the tale? Hizashi loves to ‘forget’ his struggle with carrying Oboro on his back. They managed a whole one step and Hizashi decided it would be easier to limp together.
“Imagine my shock, when I managed to bring him to my preferred recovery area.. Nemuri, rather than being irritated I would interrupt her rare downtime was horrified to find Oboro injured. I was forced to the lumpy bed, watching you two share stories and laugh together. We had a mutual friend. Yet, there I was. . . Forgotten.”
Nemuri allows him to ‘mourn’ for a minute and then demands something new. Clearly, she misses the desperate look he gives Oboro. While it’s rare for Hizashi to give up the crowd's attention, he’s tired.
“I would love to share,” Oboro announces. “Is there a preference?”
They exchange a knowing look. Few can understand his love for a new book . . . Only the group knows the real reason he’s picking up more work.
Oboro would love a bigger house, somewhere that he can create a study with gigantic sturdy shelves. No more tiptoeing around his miniature library placed wherever he can find a space. Toshinori’s study is enviable.
Shame that he’s an honorable man. . . A lesser man might contemplate stealing a book from the shelves.
“Pick whichever one you're obsessing over.” Nemuri gives him that smug look. “You know. . . Ask and he might allow you to bring it back with us.”
“One should be grateful for the money. I can't ask him for more.”
In truth, he's tempted to exchange his payment for a book. There's one book he would beg for. . . Clearly, it's been well-loved by its owner. Its pages are wrinkled, and colored with age, and the spine creaks and whines when he attempts to turn a page.
Is asking for the book wrong? He's willing to give whatever the man desires, whether it's money, new literature, or maybe his soul. Oboro tries to come up with something that he can exchange and there’s little he can give. He can hear the man coming; Toshinori has an unmistakable gait, with a tap, pause, tap, and pause.
Everyone in the realm knows him. Toshinori used to be a massive, muscled man with booming footsteps, and the ability to take on any mission. Now, he's shrunken and skeletal with only a collection to show his previous work. There's kindness in his smile, though when he takes in the group, with genuine warmth in his eyes.
“I wanted to offer my gratitude again. Is the room comfortable? I can have someone bring more food or something to drink.”
Hizashi gives Toshinori that smile. It’s the one reserved for mischief and fun.
“Thank you, we’re completely stuffed on food and wine, though. There is something, though. Oboro, our lovely paladin. . . Our beloved warrior who carries us through difficult work. Something in this impressive library has managed to catch his attention, and he would be wounded to leave without it. Could I be bold and ask you to give up something precious for our beloved Oboro?”
Is grabbing one’s companion and. . . Well, Oboro can't decide whether he's interested in shaking him, dangling him over a cliff, or some other horrible thing. Is that wrong? Instead, he settles a stained voice and smile, his face going red underneath Yagi's gaze.
“I’m sorry. I. . . I would love the book. I would give whatever you ask for the book.”
He's gearing up to rattle off even more when Yagi offers him a smile, silencing his next panicked rattle.
“I’ll give you the book. . . What's it for, though? Usually. . . I have someone asking for gems or something else expensive. Few express interest in literature. . . I remember the group that came through with the book. They were a small group. . . I think the owner has unfortunately forgotten it.”
“Thank you. . .” Oboro manages a weak whisper. “Could I ask whether you've ever read the book?”
Yagi’s smile goes a little stiff, his cheeks coloring bright red. “Well, I tried. I couldn't understand, though. Everything was misspelled or bled together. Some pages were completely blank, too.”
Oboro could weep. Everyone watches him, concern evident as he goes through the book, now with arguably paternal love. What a useless, confusing book for Yagi? It's a massive win for Oboro.
“Thank you for watching over the book. These are difficult to come across. . . People rarely provide them with proper care, too.”
Hizashi waves, attempting to grab his attention. “Can we have an explanation? I know that you're excited .. . Care to help us understand?”
“Do you remember the magic I've been attempting to work on?” Oboro's too excited to wait for a response, and charges forward. “I can take the next step with this book! Everything right here. . . It's connected to my kind, my familial crest.”
Finally, he has somewhere to go. . . He has a reliable source for discovering new material.
Oboro rattles on and on, temporarily unconcerned with his slumbering friend.
Aizawa tries waking up and manages to look up for a second. Is there something going on that he should stay awake for? He glances toward Nemuri and receives a delightful scratch behind his ears. Damn her, she knows the precise area to make him melt, and he unleashes a rumbling purr.
“Go back to sleep, Sho. . . I think we’re going to hear a lot more from Oboro on this for a long, long while.”