11
part two
"Ah, Obi," Shirayuki inquires a short while later, arms full of bowl and snow and blanket, "do you have a water-skin, or a..."
She stops short in the doorway and peers at him, suddenly suspicious. "...What are you doing?"
"I—think I'm stuck." The shirt muffled the sound of his voice, but not enough to hide the subtle undercurrent of pain. He had tried to pull it off over his head, but the movement jarred his injuries and, well. Here he was—arms tangled up in dark fabric, trapped around his head, looking rather like a fool.
Feeling rather like one, too.
She hurries over, drops her armload on the table, and carefully frees him. "You could have waited, you know." Shirayuki gives the garment a shake, draping it over the back of a chair. "For me to help you."
Obi gazed steadily at the table, twiddling his thumbs, biting back a snide retort. No, now was absolutely not the time to say that.
"Water bottles are in storage..." he replies instead, helpful. "...the box on the shelf."
"Okay," she sighs, picking up the blanket and tossing it to him. "I'll be right back."
He plucks the blanket out of the air, arranging it around his shoulders. Oh boy. Miss was irritated at him. Again. The third time in less than one day, like he was going for some kind of bad record—what did she call it?
Shirayuki returns with the water-skins, and starts filling them with the snow she'd gathered from the balcony. It wasn't ideal, but it would certainly do in a pinch. She didn't exactly have many other alternatives.
Obi watches, while she silently works. "...Sorry," he says after a while; still somewhat sheepish, rubbing absent–mindedly at his shoulder under the soft blanket.
"Hm?" she glances up at him, continuing to stuff the makeshift compresses.
"For being surly."
"Th—that's—" she reddens, surprised and more than a little guilty. "Well, I don't blame you. Pain has that effect..." She sighs, "I just wish I had a stronger medicine to give you."
Shirayuki wraps the first of the finished snow–packs in a bit of cloth and lays it gently on his bandaged hand. "How's that feel?"
Obi murmurs with relief as the chill sinks into flesh and bone, chipping the sharpest edge off the ache.
"You're welcome. I made two more, if you need them."
"Actually, I wouldn't mind just laying out on the balcony," he grins, still reveling in cold snowy bliss. "Burrow right under."
She smiles at that. "Maybe later. Can I look at your side now?"
The bruises just starting to bloom across Obi's chest are... breathtaking, to say the least. Several shades of purples and violet, soon mottled with yellows and greens and reds—hues that would only intensify, until his flesh resembled a sickly flower patch.
"Is—are you sure nothing's broken?" Shirayuki inhales, a hissing gasp caught in slow motion, as she cautiously reaches out. Tentative. Hesitant.
But this time he doesn't shy away from her touch—he scarcely moves at all.
"...Well..." he drones, wincing ever so slightly and trying to drag out admitting to anything, " ...it kind of feels like one is maybe a tiny little bit cracked. Did you know that you have very sharp elbows, Miss?"
He doesn't miss the way she flinches.
"...And that was a bad joke. Sorry."
Shirayuki doesn't respond, intent on her work, and silence reigns supreme as she slowly examines each rib under the bruising flesh.
"Is it this one?" she presses ever so gently at darkest patch of bruise coloring his side.
"Tss, yeah, that's the one," he barely catches the painful gasp between his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to calm his ragged breathing once again.
When he opens his eyes, she's still frowning at the vibrant bruises, brows knit together.
"It's not your fault, Miss," Obi gently reminds her. "You were only defending yourself."
"That—I know that, but—it doesn't mean I don't feel bad about it, Obi!"
He blinks, but soon recovers:
"Still, I'm impressed. That would have dropped anyone else. I mean, you nearly dropped me! I'll have to congratulate Miss Kiki next time we meet." Obi laughs, and then nearly doubles over, clutching at the offending rib.
"...You're moving around too much. Stop. Take it easy," Shirayuki mutters, flushing red again. "And...and quit teasing..."
"I'm n—ouch—not teasing. I'm serious. Besides, I—" his voice softens, considerably, "I didn't know you acted out your dreams, Miss."
She stiffens, briefly, before reaching for a roll of bandages. "I don't—usually," she admits. "I have medicine for it. Back, in my room..."
"I would have gone and fetched it for you."
Shirayuki looks up, stunned. "Obi, it—the snow's up to my waist!"
"It is now," he scratches at his shoulder, "before it was only at my knees."
"Only…?" she echos, incredulous, remembering her own struggle to break a trail. "But, Obi, how would you even—"
"The high paths. Walls. Trees. Rooftops." He shrugs. "I've taken similar routes before."
Miss looks at him like she wants to protest, like she wants very much to protest, to tell him no, that it's too dangerous—but she's making a valiant effort not too. The internal struggle plays out on her face, and in her eyes.
"Just... be careful, all right?" is the answer she finally arrives at. "When you do things like that."
"I will, Miss."