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AnS Rimworld!AU, some of the cast who’s passed away
Lata was a jeweler and father to Obi, who legitimized him late in life and took his family in, and died in 5508 from a heart attack
Umihebi was a brigand and in the banditry business with Mukaze, bearing his child Torou, then dying under… chaotic circumstances in 5485, when Torou was still a toddler
Itoya was housecarl to Mukaze and married to his eldest daughter, Torou, and the father of her children. He was cut down and killed by bandits in year 5505
Kihal was a herpetologist and Zen’s first wife, mother to three children with him, until a stray bullet during an attack on the colony hit her in the head, killing her instantly. Died in 5507
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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This is a modern AU in which Mukaze runs a homeless shelter/house, Shirayuki grew up there, and basically everyone we know from the Lions of the Mountain live there. Itoya's wife and child are actually OCs from happybubbles' work Ever After which you do not need to read to understand this story, but you should read it anyway. Because it's fantastic. And then thank her for letting me abuse her characters.
AO3
The phone ringing caught her by surprise, the sun having just cleared the horizon, and she answered the call without checking to see who it was. “Hello?”
“Yuki? It’s Dad.”
“Oh, hi!” she said.
There was a moment, just long enough to be awkward, just long enough that she should have noticed something was off. For once, her intuition was quiet and somehow she had completely failed to notice how his voice was shaking.
He choked. “...Kala’s gone.”
~~~
Obi was waiting for her outside the House, leaning against the side of his car with his arms crossed over his chest. He was frowning.
He jumped up when he saw her approaching, concern hovering over him. “Shirayuki.”
She managed to work up a wane smile; her throat felt so tight. “Hi.”
They stood around awkwardly for a moment before he stretched out a hand and pulled her close, wrapping her up in his arms, and Shirayuki shuddered. She brought her hands up to cling to his shirt, sinking into the warmth of his chest. She needed this, just for a bit, just another moment to keep letting herself feel and then she would be strong. An errant tear or two slipped down her cheeks before she wrestled down the more overwhelming emotions, swiped the dampness from her face, and moved away, inhaling deeply. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.” Her fingers unclenched from Obi’s clothes, pausing to smooth the fabric against his chest, before dropping to her side as she stepped back, keeping her gaze on the ground.
His hands moved to her elbows, cupping them gently, and the whole of his frame was hunched over her, shielding her. “You okay?”
She didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded, swallowing, and reached down to grab one of his hands, turning to walk up to the House.
It was quiet inside, though it was still a little early. Looking around, it seemed just about everyone was awake, but all was still. The youngest children were all playing but they seemed to instinctively know to pick the quieter games, the softer toys. The older kids were subdued, docile, going about their chores and morning routines without really talking to one another. Most of them seemed okay, but the atmosphere that hung over the House seemed to cling to their ankles and weigh them down.
The adults were missing. Shirayuki heard the occasional muffled voice when she went past the offices on her way to the kitchen, but most of the parents seemed to either already be gone for work or in their rooms. Or with Mukaze, maybe.
Shirayuki trailed into the kitchen and found it mostly empty. A pair of children was at the sink, cleaning up the mess from breakfast, and Kazuki was sitting at the table, Mariko planted in his lap. The baby was stubbornly refusing to open her mouth to the spoonful of applesauce Kazuki kept trying to feed her and his rising frustration was etched in every line of his face.
“Kazuki,” Shirayuki said.
He looked up and deflated, shoulders sagging as his eyes welled up with relief and desperation. “Yuki,” he pleaded, sounding lost, frightened, like a child in the dark.
She hurried forward, sensing Obi following at her heels, and slid into the chair next to the two at the table. Obi went around to Kazuki’s opposite side, sliding the bowl of applesauce over and snagging the baby from his lap, taking over the task of convincing a one-year-old to eat. Shirayuki wrapped an arm around Kazuki’s shoulder and pulled him close as he began to shake.
It took a long time for her shirt to dry.
~~~
The flow of mourners seemed endless, a ceaseless river of paltry smiles, insincere condolences, and handshake after hug after polite kisses. Her feet were beginning to ache. She had been standing in the same place at the back of the room for at least an hour with hardly a moment ever passing between one guest moving down the line of friends and family members and the next one approaching. Barely a handful seemed genuinely upset. Obi stood just behind and beside her, had been with her from the beginning, and all Shirayuki wanted to do was lean back into him and rest. This was exhausting.
She took a free moment to look around the room, cataloging who was here, who was still missing, but a glance at the door made her freeze; one of Mukaze’s aunts was just slipping out of her coat and making her way into the room. There were a few other relatives and friends to greet between the two of them and Shirayuki took the following minutes to build up some steel in her spine; the woman was going to say something unpleasant.
“Aunt Nori,” Shirayuki said in greeting.
The older woman inclined her head respectfully. “Shirayuki. I am sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” she nodded.
Courtesies apparently finished, Ms. Nori’s mannerly timbre changed abruptly and her eyes bore into Shirayuki with rabid curiosity. “Your shower was supposed to be this past weekend, wasn’t it?” she asked, briefly turning to Obi in question.
Obi stiffened behind her and Shirayuki reached out to grasp his fingers in her hand, gritting her teeth. She pasted on another appropriately-sad smile. “Yes, we had to reschedule it.”
Ms. Nori seemed oblivious to her rising temper and continued on. “And your wedding is coming up soon, too,” she said, her tone so overly sympathetic it crossed into condescending. “It’s too bad. This was supposed to be such a happy time for you.” She looked down at Shirayuki with exaggerated sadness, almost sickeningly fake. “This must be hard on you.”
“It’s been a hard week for all of us,” Shirayuki said, attempting to divert the attention away from herself. “Itoya especially.” Obi’s thumb began stroking soothingly over her fingers.
“Mmm. ” Ms. Nori hummed, nodding sorrowfully, but not seeming to agree or disagree either way. “Well,” she said, and paused to smile pityingly, “I should give my condolences to the rest of the family. Goodbye for now.”
“Yes, goodbye,” Shirayuki said.
The woman glided away, head held high and an air of indifference poisoning her every step and movement.
Shirayuki quivered, anger turning her body stiff with tension and her muscles trembling. “That unfeeling, cold-hearted bitch,” she spat, low and quiet into the noisy room and barely loud enough for even her own ears to hear.
Obi heard, though, his fingers clenching around her own briefly before he tugged at her hand and pulled her through the crowd to the outside, around the side of the building and hiding them in a cluster of trees away from the lights of the parking lot. He turned Shirayuki around until she was facing him, holding her arms gently, so gently, in his palms. “Shirayuki?”
He was worried about her. This rage was not like her, but how was she supposed to explain it? Lady Nori wasn’t even the first mourner to bring up it all up - the wedding, the shower, their engagement - and none of the others had been sincere either. She was just the first to be so spiteful about it, as if Shirayuki was angry about it.
She stood there and fumed, fists clenching and unclenching on empty air, jaw grinding as she fought for words. “She was just so, so cruel about it,” she whispered. “Like she knows what I’m thinking. Like my spotlight’s been stolen or something. Like I give a fuck.”
Obi sucked in a breath, probably surprised by the venom in her voice. She was surprised too, honestly.
“Kala is-” her throat clenched and Shirayuki forced a painful swallow. “She died and everyone’s acting like I’m selfish enough to be bothered that our wedding is being pushed back. As if I could possibly care about that right now.” She finally managed to turn her gaze up to Obi’s face, wondering how he would handle her confession, wondering if he would be hurt that she couldn’t dredge up an ounce of regret over the postponement, any amount of happiness over their upcoming marriage.
His face held nothing but sadness. “Oh, Shirayuki.” A hand slid up her arm and nestled itself in her hair, pulling her forward to press her face into his chest.
She choked, the frustration and anger breaking free in a ragged sob, tears streaming down her cheeks and into the dark fabric of Obi’s shirt.
He rubbed his free hand up and down her back soothingly, murmuring reassurances and comfort. “You’re not selfish, love, the farthest thing from. Most of them just don’t...” He paused. “They don’t know what it’s like on your end.”
~~~
Itoya was so quiet. So still. The line of his back was stiff where he sat hunched over his knees, eyes on the floor and occasionally tuning out the rest of the world, breathing deeply. Just breathing.
The minister talked on, of love and family and a life of influence, and the first few rows were filled with shaking hands and tear-stained faces. Mariko quickly grew tired of sitting on Mukaze’s lap, her tiny arms and legs squirming for freedom, and Shirayuki leaned forward and tapped her father on the shoulder, silently holding out her arms in offering when he turned to her. She scooped the baby up and slipped out of the room, searching for a quiet place away from the other mourners for Mariko to play.
Shirayuki could handle this and let the others stay, they needed to be in the service more than she.
It’s not like Kala and I have ever been close, anyway.
If she repeated it to herself enough maybe it would make the ache go away.
~~~
Shirayuki had stayed at the House to watch Mariko until the last second, she hadn’t paid her respects before the service like the rest of the family. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. Just seeing the pale, still form from across the room made something thick and aching lodge itself in her throat. It was Kala’s grandfather that coaxed her forward with a gentle smile.
All she could do was stare, mind blank. Someone stepped up beside her.
“She looks like she’s smiling,” Mukaze said.
A sound broke free from her throat, something wretched and painful, before she swallowed it down. “Please don’t say things like that,” she choked, gaze fixed on the floor.
Mukaze wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “We’ll be okay, Shirayuki,” he whispered into her hair, his own voice just as thick and watery as her own. “We’ll be okay.”
~~~
Shirayuki gazed down at the tea set on the table, fingers dancing idly across the china rims and handles. It was the only thing of Kala’s she had, aside from whatever photographs existed. Someone had been missing on her wedding day, a cheerful laugh that was never heard, but the memories were good. Most days were good.
Once a month Mukaze and Kazuki disappeared for a few hours, bouquets in hand, expressions solemn and shoulders hunched. But they still managed the House and took care of the residents and their smiles slowly came back, as bright as before.
Itoya had moved back in, rooming with Mukaze and Kazuki since he couldn’t bring the baby to work and he needed a sitter. It took awhile, but he had started laughing again. Mariko was almost two and could recognize “Mommy” in any picture she was presented with, her joyous laughter so like Kala’s had been. It wasn’t the same, but it was just as good.
