Work Text:
Ryuu enters the room timidly, juggling in his arms are numerous jars of herbs. Shirayuki examines what ones she can see; among jars of remedies already mixed there’s passionflower and chamomile, lavender, valerian… She can see the boy’s line of thinking, can see how he has turned over in his head the many different ways one could pair each medicine, how they might help their friend. However, she thinks, looking down at Obi, who is fighting off sleep and pain and failing at it, they probably will not help.
Obi is buried under blankets, wrapped in bandages, and full of enough painkillers and sedatives to make his world spin even when he is still. Shirayuki is seated carefully next to him on the bed, leaning on pillows bunched up behind her while Obi lays next to her, face occasionally tucked against her thigh and occasionally facing away from her each time he shakes himself awake and settles in a different position.
The older doctors had sent Ryuu away initially, not wanting a boy only as old as fourteen to see them hold down one of his closest friends, nor to see him howling and fighting as they try to help. Shirayuki could do nothing more than cling to his shoulders and hold his head against her collar bone, desperately murmuring that he was safe now, that he needed to hold still. Ryuu had frozen at the sight of the gore; he was an herbalist, one who simply made medicine. The boy did all in his power to keep away from the patients when he could.
Obi was easily one of the only ones he wanted to treat personally, but this was just too much.
It has been a full night since then, the sun is rising slowly through low and hazy clouds, turning the atmosphere orange and red. Ryuu has peaked in once or twice through the night, saying nothing, but now here he stands, armed to the teeth with depressants and sleep remedies.
“How do we fix this?” he asks her, voice small, watching as Obi stares with glassy eyes at the ceiling, then jerks his head hard to the side to keep them from sliding shut. He takes a few shuddering breaths, body trembling against Shirayuki’s. She runs a hand through his hair soothingly, not saying anything at first as she thinks of what to say.
“I’ve got some different mixes, raw plants, even,” Ryuu continues after a moment with a new edge to his voice that Shirayuki never wants to hear again. “For sleep—anxiety too. Some might not go well with the painkillers, but what he’s on isn’t working. We need to…there has to be something—”
“Ryuu,” Shirayuki begins, voice gentle. “We’ve done all we can at this point. Any more medicine will just hurt him.”
“I—I know but…for later. He’s safe now. He can sleep, but he won’t.” Ryuu looks at Shirayuki questioningly, eyes wide and watery. He clings to the jars like a lifeline. “Nobody’s ever fought so hard.”
Ryuu is old enough to understand, she thinks. He’s taking slow steps toward adulthood each day, reaching as far as he can, placing his feet in Obi’s footprints as they walk through the snow. They fill a little more each winter.
“Have you seen the scars on Obi’s body, Ryuu?” Shirayuki asks, holding Ryuu’s shaky gaze. He nods slowly. “Do you know why they’re so thick and ragged looking?” Ryuu’s response is immediate:
“They weren’t treated properly,” he practically blurts the words out, he’s so full of tension. “But what does that, what does it have to do with…” Confusion clouds his features and he tries to look anywhere but at Obi. Shirayuki wishes he’d put the jars down so that she can easily draw him into a hug. Instead she nods head and continues.
“Yes, nobody was there to treat them” she murmurs, feeling icy hands on her heart. “Obi had to survive on his own. He won’t sleep now because back then he couldn’t.” She want’s to take the words and put them far away in the basins and shelves of the furthest store room and hold both Obi and Ryuu for dear life, make sure neither one is so alone or so frightened again.
“I know you want to help, so does Obi, but sometimes scars reach deeper than just flesh and blood,” Shirayuki tries to explain further. “Even if he knows he’s safe, his body doesn’t.” She turns back to Obi, who, despite his eyes being wide open, has not shown even the slightest hint that he can hear what they are saying. Ryuu’s eyes widen to saucers, understanding.
“It can’t be fixed,” Ryuu states, eyes falling. “He can’t help it.”
“There’s no fixing anyone. We mend injuries; hearts are different,” Shirayuki responds. Obi’s hair is thick with dried blood and damp with sweat under her fingertips. “We can’t help him as herbalists right now—“ Ryuu flinches at this; the jars clink in his hands. ”—but we can help him as friends. Stay with him like this.” She motions to how she has her legs along his body, her hand in his hair. She’s with him in the only way she can be at this point.
“He’s going to sleep eventually,” she murmurs, more to herself than to Ryuu. Obi’s eyes are closed now, but his brow is furrowed and he’s breathing shallowly, loosing his fight with exhaustion. He’s been fighting since late into the night when the guards dragged him home, bleeding from the scar in his chest and unable to comprehend that the fight was over.
“Ryuu, have you slept?” Shirayuki questions, catching Ryuu as he’s turning to leave. He doesn’t respond. “Ryuu, put the jars away and come back here, okay?” He nods, not looking at her.
He takes his time returning, wondering in after twenty minutes or so. He stands a respectable distance away, but Shirayuki reaches out, beckoning him closer. She pulls Ryuu against her, tucking his face into her shoulder and rubbing a hand up his small back. It’s a little awkward; Ryuu has become too tall for hugs where Shirayuki is sitting down. He sniffles all the same and winds his hands around her back.
“He’ll be okay, right?” Ryuu whispers. “He’ll live?”
“He’ll be fine Ryuu.” Obi is made of tough stuff, she knows, but he’s only human. “He just needs to rest. You should know this.” Ryuu nods.
“It’s hard,” he says. Shirayuki kisses him softly and nods.
“It is. Now sleep.” She lets him go, wiping her thumbs over his cheeks as he pulls back. He leaves, but returns with his bedding moments later and tucks himself away in a corner with both Obi and Shirayuki in his line of sight.
Shirayuki watches as the sun rises, feels the tension leave Obi’s body as he finally falls asleep, then closes her eyes and lets herself succumb to sleep as well.