Zen lost track of how long he held his best friend before he managed to coax her back inside, but it was shortly after she admitted to not eating anything in almost two days. Zen wasn't much use in the kitchen, so he let Mitsuhide handle cooking. Instead, he sat Shirayuki at one of the tables scattered around the taproom, pulled up a chair next to her, and let her lean against his shoulder.
Then, he listened.
He listened while she talked about her grandparents: their lives, their illnesses, their optimism, their funeral, their smiles, their support, and their love. He listened while she whispered and laughed and wept and ate and when she finally fell asleep, exhausted by her tears, he listened to her breathe and felt an intense relief that he could be by her side.
"Poor girl looks like she's been through the mill," Mitsuhide commented sadly.
"Yeah," Zen agreed, reaching up to carefully tuck Shirayuki's hair behind her ear. It certainly was a pretty color, but he much preferred being able to see her face.
"Why don't you put her to bed?" Mitsuhide suggested, turning back to cleaning the kitchen. "Then we can get some work done while she's asleep."
"Good idea," Zen agreed, shifting so that he could slip one arm under the crook of Shirayuki's knees and the other around her shoulders.
"Don't get any weird ideas while you're alone with her," Mitsuhide called with a wicked smirk as Zen reached the stairs. The young man instantly flushed a brighter shade of red than Shirayuki's hair, his head jerking back to level what he hoped was a death glare at his snickering friend.
"You are so lucky my arms are full," Zen growled at him.
"Yeah, yeah, you'll get me next time. Now hurry up. We have a lot of work to do."
.oOo.
Over the next two days, Zen and Mitsuhide did all they could to help Shirayuki get back on her feet. They helped her clean her home - sweeping floors and dusting shelves and generally tidying up - sort through her grandparents' things and put them into storage, sell the tavern's alcohol stock and the extra tables she wouldn't need to other local establishments, organize the mounds of books, instruments, and herb stock she had inherited from the previous herbalist, and in general prepare the tavern for its transformation into an herbalist's shop. She didn't feel ready to convert her grandparents' bedroom into a guest or sick room yet, but Shirayuki assured them that she could get help from her neighbors when she did.
On the morning when they had to leave, Shirayuki and Zen got up before the sunrise to visit someplace special, up the hill at the edge of town.
The young man knelt quietly in front of the pair of headstones bearing the names of Shirayuki's grandparents. Thank you, he thought silently as he prayed. Thank you for rescuing me, for teaching me, even though it was only for a short time. And thank you for raising her so well. I promise that I'll do my best to look after her now.
"Sometimes, I feel guilty," Shirayuki whispered beside him.
"Hm? What for?"
"I feel like I failed them. Like somehow it's my fault that they died, because I couldn't save them," she replied, tears welling up in her eyes once more.
"No. No, Shirayuki, that's not right. You may not be as experienced as the previous herbalist was, but you did everything you could to help them. Nobody expects more from you than that," Zen countered her firmly, gently gripping her arm. "You're already so talented and so wise, and I know that you'll make this into an experience that pushes you forward and motivates you to keep learning and improving. That's the kind of person you are. You're… an inspiration," Zen admitted, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly at the startled look in her warm green eyes. Then she smiled and glanced away, her cheeks coloring a little as well.
"Me? An inspiration? For the person who picked himself up after a terrible childhood trauma and works so hard to improve the lives of the people around him?" she murmured. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment."
Her smile when she looked up again was the most brilliant one he'd ever seen on her. For some reason, it made his breath catch in a way he'd never experienced before. "Uh," he gaped intelligently, his brain going blank even as he grasped for something to say. Shirayuki giggled at his expression and climbed to her feet.
"Come on. I want to show you something," she smiled, reaching out to help him to his feet.
"Okay?" Zen frowned curiously, taking it and allowing her to lead him along the hill ridge to where the brook left the forest and spilled down the hill towards the city. "What are we-?"
"Now," Shirayuki grinned, pointing out towards the valley.
Zen turned just as the sun appeared over the mountains, illuminating the city in an instant and shimmering on the thin layer of mist dancing across the grass. "Wow," he whispered, awed by the sight.
"The best view of Shenazard," Shirayuki smiled. "I told you I wanted to show it to you someday, didn't I?"
Zen blinked at her, then smiled as he remembered their first few letters to one another. "I guess that means it's all on me now," he mused, and Shirayuki giggled again.
"No, you're off the hook. You made the trip to Tanbarun after all. It's on me to travel to Clarines."
Travel to Clarines. Zen's heart seemed to beat a little faster at the thought, although he wasn't certain why. "Shirayuki?" he began impulsively.
"Yes?" the red-headed herbalist smiled at him, her eyes bright and gentle and encouraging.
Zen hesitated, suddenly nervous, but he knew this needed to be said. If not for her sake, then for his. "I just… I need you to know: if you ever want it, you will always have a home in Clarines."
Shirayuki blinked, taken off guard, then smiled, gently squeezing the hand that he only now realized she had never let go of. "Don't worry, Zen. I know."