WHISKERS
"But you already know it was them," Shirayuki sighs.
Her boots crunch heavily through fresh snow as she slowly weaves her way along Scholar's Street—around the shoveling crews and their snow-piled carts, amongst the children clamoring and clambering up the mountains still awaiting collection. Of course the skies choose to blanket the city with a midday storm when it's her turn to fetch supper from Pavilion Street. She clutches the basket closer to her side. It wouldn't do for their evening meal to get cold. But neither would it do to slip and land flat on her backside.
"Aw, but Miss—what I don't know is who drew the curly ones, and who did the scraggly ones."
She glances over her shoulder, at the source of the pensive whine.
Obi walks easily behind her, one arm full of her latest research materials, the other hand drumming a thoughtful rhythm against the weather-proofed wrapping.
Shirayuki sighs again, producing a puffy white cloud in front of her nose. Really.
She's surprised he's still sore about it. It's been nearly a month.
The celebration started innocuously enough, with hot food, good cheer, and congratulations passed all around. Then came a toast to the successful fusion of Olin Maris seed and glitter heat stone. Followed by another, to the absent Lata Forzeno. And another for luck with the coming negotiations.
And then another.
And another.
And another.
A tipsy Kazaha suddenly challenged Obi to a drinking contest before an equally tipsy Yuzuri could shush him. Obi, being Obi, downed the goblet he was nursing and declared that not only would he drink Kazaha under, he'd best the lot of them in single combat.
Things quickly spiraled into chaos from there.
Shidan was snoring before the first round was over. Kirito begged to take his place. Shirayuki finished the drink she'd sipped at since the first toast and bowed out, resigning herself to damage control. She quickly ruled Kazaha, and then Yuzuri out, so they delved into a drunken argument over which northern animal Ryu resembled most. Kirito begged to take their places, but Suzu elbowed him out of the way. Three rounds later he excused himself and curled up at his desk. Ryu blinked sleepily, a quill tucked behind each ear now. Yuzuri claimed he looked just like a snowy hare, while Kazaha insisted he was the spitting image of the greater tufted white owl. Shirayuki sighed. Shidan snored. Kirito begged for a turn at the table. Izuru ignored him, seating herself and opening their last bottle.
Neither managed to finish their drinks, so Shirayuki declared it a draw. Izuru nodded, kicked her feet up on the table, and yawned. Kazaha and Yuzuri leaned against a desk, clumsily playing at ro-sham-bo to reach a consensus about Ryu.
Obi swayed in slow circles where he sat, before tipping and sprawling across the sofa. Ryu, cheeks still flush with the small sips he'd taken during the toasts, climbed up next to him, slurring something about warm.
And then Kirito dove for the half finished bottle. As Shirayuki tried to wrestle it away from him, she turned her back to the sofa and, well…
"What difference does it make, who drew what?" she says, choking down her desire to laugh.
Because it was funny, in a way. Perhaps they thought themselves clever, getting revenge for all the pranks he'd pulled since transferring to Lyrias. But what they didn't understand was—Obi gave just as good as he got.
"All the difference in the world," he pouts, "if I'm going to get them back properly."
Better, even.
"...I should think it was obvious, though?" At least, she certainly thought so.
"Maybe that's just what they want me to think, Miss." Obi leans forward, his reply low. Conspiratorial. "They can deny it all they like, but they won't convince me that easily." He narrows his eyes, sun glare amplifying the mischievous glint.
Shirayuki bites back another giggle, pressing her mouth into a firm line. She has no desire to get tangled up in this fight. He teases her enough as it is.
But, more importantly—there is no winning a prank war once Obi involves himself. Only escalation, attrition, and embarrassment. Various degrees of loosing, if one expects a clear-cut victor.
So she faces forward and marches on, winding carefully around a slush puddle of questionable depth and more questionable odor.
"They're not going to admit it, you know." She tries to impart finality, but her tone is far too light.
"Oh, they'll fess up, Miss," he assures her. "Eventually."
And—they probably will, if only to stop the pranks. Obi is good at extracting information, and he's been laying it on especially thick lately.
"Well," he smirks, "that, and watching them squirm is fun."
Shirayuki grins, despite herself.
She'd never heard Suzu yelp quite so loud as the day he discovered every single quill in the pharmacy missing, a sprig of fresh Cat's Paw tucked in its place.
"But where did you get all of it?" She peers back at Obi. "The greenhouses don't produce nearly so much this time of year."
"I have my sources, Miss." He winks, oh so smug.
Shirayuki frowns. "Well, you still shouldn't have frozen all of Yuzuri's ink pots. She had three reports due the next morning."
"She shouldn't wait until the night before to write them, then," Obi retorts, fussing at his cape.
"Isn't that what you do?" Shirayuki stares at him, and he glances away.
She huffs. Kazaha wouldn't even set foot in the pharmacy without sending someone ahead to scout it out. Izuru just sent couriers. Shidan kept his office locked, for all the good that did.
"You're getting carried away, Obi."
"Me?" he scoffs in mock disbelief, gesturing wildly to himself. "They drew on my face, said nothing—and I spent half the next day drilling a flock of new recruits. Who also said nothing. Until practice was over."
Somehow Shirayuki maintains a straight face, remembering just how flustered he'd been after the fact—how he'd rushed into the pharmacy like a cloudburst, his cheeks red from more than a recent scrubbing.
"I thought you told them you lost a bet?" she says.
"I did." Obi grimaces. "Now half of them won't stop calling me Sir Cat. I keep finding balls of twine outside my chambers." He counts his other gifts off on his fingers – "Dried fish, a feather tied to a string, a frozen bird... Miss, do you need catnip? I have a lot of catnip."
"And so that's why you got Kirito stuck on the roof?" Shirayuki pauses to glare at him.
"The little squirt asked me how training went." Obi scratched stubbornly at the back of his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Kirito saw who did what, I know he did."
"It was mean, Obi" Shirayuki scolds. "He was up there all afternoon! I had to find a guard to help me get him down. Shidan was furious."
"He was fine!" Obi protests. "I was watching the entire time, making sure he didn't fall."
Shirayuki glares at him. Oh, they had had words after that stunt.
He mutters something under his breath, and tugs on his scarf. Then he sighs. "All that and still, the squirt wouldn't talk..."
Obi rubs at his nose, but he can't keep the admiration from of his tone.
"Too bad there aren't any other witnesses for you to intimidate," Shirayuki huffs, turning and continuing toward the Pharmacy.
"Only because you won't budge," he grumbles, half under his breath.
"I already told you. I didn't see anything—I was trying to keep the wine out of Kirito. He had it in his head that you said the rest was his?"
Obi makes a contrite noise, and they walk in relative silence for a moment.
"But, you do look like a cat." Shirayuki hums. "Even Ryu thinks so. Especially when you're sleeping all curled up like that."
"At least call me something cool, Miss." Obi whines. "Like panther, or lynx."
end