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“It’s no good.”
With a hefty sigh you put down the watering can and lowered yourself to your knees, squinting keenly as if that’d make the situation any less grave. As expected, it did nothing to brighten up the wilting flora, which continued to look sad and wrinkly and brown and positively—yup—dead. You would’ve liked to swear at them instead, seeing as bouts of tantrums were more suited to your personality, but that didn’t seem any more effective.
“Great,” you continued to mutter aloud to yourself, shaking your head. “They’re going to murder me.”
It already seemed to be a great mistake on the Yamanaka family’s behalf to bestow the responsibility of their store onto you of all people. You owed them a favour, sure, after Inoichi had saved your raw behind during a particularly rough mission. But you’d expected this favour to be something a bit more… substantial than watching the store for a week while the clan leaders went off on some mountain spa expedition. Actually, filling in for somebody on an S-Rank mission might’ve been easier than trying to keep these damn flowers alive. Luckily, business was slow, so nobody was able to witness the disaster that you were inflicting upon Yamanaka Flowers. But it was only Day 1, and you were already at a complete loss of what to do for the remaining 6 days.
The first order of business was to revive what little life some of the flowers were clinging on to. You would love to be able to do a couple fancy hand signs and have them all spring back, but you didn’t know a jutsu for that, and resigned yourself to the prospect of trudging shamefully into the library to research.
You wished Inoichi had asked you to kill a man rather than accidentally murder his shop of stupid daisies.
It was a few hours before close, but since you didn’t have any respectable flowers to sell anyways, you flipped the sign and poked your head out of the door. There seemed to be a disturbance in the western part of the Land of Fire recently, so quite a few of the Leaf Village’s ninja were absent, much to your relief. You didn’t need ‘flower killer’ to be tacked onto your reputation by your peers, and you didn’t think the Yamanaka family would find it very funny for their business, either.
There were still a few people out and about in the sun’s golden hour, and your eyes caught on a figure as he passed. Nothing really stood out about him, so it took a second for you to even realize. Familiarity jolted recognition and you raised a hand before you knew it.
“Hey, Ten—!”
He turned and flashed a glare that seemed to suck the light out of your surroundings. You choked on your tongue, stumbling over the words. He was very serious about his new assignment and alias, even though there wasn’t anybody around to hear your muck-up, but you were fully aware of his powers (and temperament) and didn’t think today was the right time to cross him.
“—z-zto. Yamato, I mean.”
“[Name],” he greeted in return, tilting his head curiously as his gaze slipped behind you to Yamanaka Flowers. His eyebrow was raised knowingly as he began to put two and two together, and you nodded ruefully in return, believing he was smart enough to not need any further description of your predicament.
“That’s pretty funny,” he muttered to himself with a wry grin, just loudly enough for you to be able to hear. You knew he was teasing you, but embarrassment made your face flutter with tendrils of warmth.
“I-I’m not suited for this, all right?!” you defended feebly. Yamato’s composure broke and he laughed at you, a clean genuine laugh, which was pretty surprising coming from the stoic man. It dumbfounded you so much that you almost forgot what you needed to ask him until he brought it up.
“Can I help you with something?” He always did his best to be helpful, even if he was always spread a bit thin. Finally, you remembered why you’d reached out in the first place.
“Yeah, actually…”
Yamato was the one-and-only Wood Style user, and trees were close enough to flowers… right? He seemed to see the gears turning in your head and frowned when you asked, in a tone that implied that there was only one answer, “are you busy?”
“No,” he replied hesitantly. Now you were the one grinning at him.
“Great! I’m going to need to borrow you for a little while, then.”
---
You’d first met Tenzo—now Yamato—in the hospital, where most ninja file into at least once in their career. You weren’t a medical ninja by any means, but you still recognized how invaluable healing ninjutsu was to learn. Still, you never meant to learn how to save lives or knit bones under your fingers. ‘Jack of all trades, master of none’ was sort of how you lived your life. You just wanted to study up on how to clumsily patch up a wound in the case that you found yourself with an unwanted hole in your body. Your lifestyle didn’t work for everybody, but it seemed to be going swimmingly for you, until a half-dead man was dumped at your feet.
“We’re under-staffed. Give him preliminary healing until a surgeon can take him,” were your orders.
“Uh,” was your reply.
You didn’t get a chance to elaborate further on your statement because the doctor had already run off to tend to somebody else. So much for triage, you thought. The man on the floor was bleeding out steadily, already creating a formidable pool to splash around in. Living as a ninja got you exposed to lots of sharp, pointy things, so it was a waste of time to wonder what had gotten him into this state.
You dropped to your knees and pressed your hands into the wound. Chakra control wasn’t your finest feature, but you knew enough to close open arteries and veins. The man was wearing a bloodied but clearly identifiable ANBU uniform, so it wasn’t hard to discern the trouble you were probably going to get in just for knowing his face. Normally, ANBU came in masked and were treated by special surgeons that had been given clearance by the Hokage. Surprise, but you weren’t one of those special doctors. You were just a lame shadow assistant, and you were basically holding this guy’s heart in your hands. It shouldn’t have been a problem if he kept his mask on, hiding his face from you. But it had been lost on the way, and you saw every twisted feature on his pain-stricken face. He groaned, eyelids twitching as he drifted in and out of consciousness, a weak hand reaching up to knock away yours—which were clearly causing him pain but saving his life. The wet fingers curled around your wrist before slipping away.
After he was taken away, that should’ve been the end of it. But you were curious. You’d dabbled in playing God, saving a man’s life—a mysterious man, at that. ANBU were shadows. They didn’t have real names and their faces were meant to be kept secret under those blank animal masks at all times, and yet, you knew what kind of vulnerable face this man made when on the verge of death. Security was lax because of the business of the hospital, and by the time you had tracked his room down, he’d woken up and regained his consciousness.
“Do I know you?” he’d asked when you knocked on the door and peeked a head in. His hair was washed and clean now, soft brown in the sunlight. His eyes were dark and rimmed with suspicion, but his voice relaxed you in such a soothing way that you took another step towards him.
“No—well, a bit. See, I kind of saved your life. But I just wanted to see how you were doing. You looked a bit rough and all.” Knowing how awkward you sounded in front of him, you stuck a hand out. “[Name].”
“Oh, I see…”
You didn’t think he’d actually take your hand. Most ANBU officers were snobs or downright silent, judging from the very few you’d had to deal with before. But his grip was warm and rough with experience, and it enraptured you when he smiled.
“Tenzo.”
---
“So that’s why you have to help me fix everything!” you said brightly. “Since it was because of me that you didn’t die on the floor, you know?”
He already had his head in the hands.
---
The next day came by and when you went to the store to open, Yamato was waiting dutifully, leaning on the wall with the morning sun gleaming off of his protective headgear. Although you didn’t think that he wouldn’t keep his word, it made you happy all the same to see him there. He stood when he saw you coming and put his hands on his hips.
“Let’s get to work, I guess.”
You weren’t exactly sure what Yamato could actually do for you. The prized flowers, apparently bred through generations, were already as good as dead. There were very few jutsu that could bring the dead back to life, and you doubted any of that forbidden knowledge was meant for somebody trying to revive stupid plants. When you unlocked the door by putting the key through, Yamato surprised you by reaching over your head. His palm was broad splayed out against the door. You froze up, feeling (or maybe hallucinating) warmth at your back. For a tiny second time stopped and you were pinned up beneath him—and then he pushed opened the door, allowing you to realize that he was just impatient to get in around you. Your stomach fluttered back down and you hurriedly chased your feelings inside. What the hell was that?
You and then-Tenzo had never been that close, even though you’d done the whole ‘save your life’ thing. After he was finished in the hospital, he went back into ANBU service, and you were sure that you’d never see him again. Later, he was pulled out as a replacement for Team Kakashi, allowing him more freedom in the open world. The two of you had reconnected, seeing each other around, but he’d never given you reason to be… well, attracted. The village was tight knit, so you didn’t know any more about him than the next jonin. But you were looking at him as he knelt low to examine the boughs of brown, wilted flowers, and there was a broadness to him that made your heart thump.
Oh.
This flower shop really did have magic in it. Curse those Yamanakas and their nosiness in romantic affairs, being the main provider of bouquets. Even without any of them here, they were giving you goddamn grief.
“[Name]?”
He was repeating your name emphatically and you realized you’d been spacing out, staring at him while not really looking. His eyebrow quirked up in concern and you floundered for words.
“Y-yeah, what is it?”
“You’re overwatering them. They’re drowning. All you need to do is stop watering them and let them dry out. They should be fine after that.”
“Wait… that’s it? You’re serious?” You gaped while he got back up to his feet, brushing dust off of his knees. His chuckle was soft, deep in his chest.
“Yeah. That’s it.”
“Well—I guess—you should, er, be pleased! That makes both of our jobs easier, right?” You tried to laugh it off, but your neck tickled with embarrassment. You’d pulled the whole “I saved your life” card only to have him tell you that you were a bit heavy handed with the watering can. You felt like you’d knocked on God’s door just to ask Him what time it was or something.
“Why, I guess you’re right,” he replied good naturedly with a pleasant smile. But his voice was obviously choked by holding back a laugh. The floodgates burst, and you were rosy red in the face.
“Whatever, Yamato! I’ll never ask you for a favour again.”
“I never said you couldn’t. I’m glad I could be of help. I just find it funny that somebody as talented as you is so bad at something so simple.”
The compliment nearly flew over your head if not for the very gentle, very un-ANBU grin pulling at his lips. It wasn’t staged. He was smiling a genuine, comfortable smile with you, and your heart was going berserk in your chest. Had he always been this attractive?
“Well… come by again. I’ll have these flowers sold out though, you hear?”
“Right, right.” He then reached forwards, putting a large and warm hand on your shoulder. You felt it searing hot, burning through your thick jacket. The light squeeze felt like it was turning your world. “It’s a promise.”
When he left, you couldn’t help but watch him go in utter amazement. It was those damn flowers, cursing you with negative energy for screwing with them. That was why you felt so heavy. No other explanation for it.
---
Days passed. You took Yamato’s advice and quit watering the plants every few hours, and to your surprise (though you weren’t that surprised, considering Yamato was often right), they revived themselves quickly. People started coming by again, picking up bouquets for loved ones or to spruce up their homes. You were turning good profit, and a lot of your colleagues bought from you just to laugh at the fact that you of all people was stuck as a flower shop vendor.
Yamato, however, wasn’t one of them.
You kept the shop open longer than its hours, wondering if he might maybe just be held up at work. You opened earlier than you should, wondering if he might be offset by visiting during the day with regular customers. He didn’t come. On the last day, you bit down on your pride and finally asked if there was any news on his whereabouts. You didn’t know if you actually wanted to know, because if they told you that he was, in fact, in town and merely forgot about you, it’d be devastating.
“Yamato? Hm… I think his team went out on a mission. Doubt they’ll be back any time soon from what I’ve heard.”
So that was it. The relief was short-lived, though, because now you began to worry about other things. What if he’d been hurt on the mission and was dying in a ditch somewhere in a foreign land? You had flashbacks of having your hands in his warm insides again, trying so hard to hold him together so he could take one more breath. You were distracted, frazzled—so much so that people noticed and asked if you were well. And, honestly, you didn’t know.
It was the last day of your days at Yamanaka Flowers. You should’ve given up as soon as you heard that Yamato wasn’t in the village, but you kept the door open anyways. The air was cold and you were shivering foolishly, but you couldn’t bear to close the door until the very last second. You should’ve been more relieved that you were done. You’d hated it the whole time, after all. No more boring shifts of standing around, waiting for somebody to come in so you could harass them into buying something. No need to pretend like you knew anything about what flowers meant and how to take care of them. No more seeing other people carry gifts off to their beloved while you stayed behind in the shop, alone behind the counter.
Alone. Always… alone.
With a hefty sigh you got up and trudged to the door. That was it, then. The only time you’d see Yamato around was chance-luck in the roads. No more excuses to talk to him or see his smile. You were about to turn the sign from OPEN to CLOSED before the door jerked open, nearly battering you in the face. Reflexively you jumped back as a man barreled inside.
“Hey.” Yamato exhaled deeply, clearly exerted from a run. He straightened his back and then gave you a cheeky look. “Closed?”
“No,” you breathed, trying very hard and failing very hard to hide the happiness warming your face. “Welcome to Yamanaka Flowers.”
---
“…and then we came home.”
You whistled. After letting Yamato in, you’d closed up shop so that the two of you could catch up. His story had been so ridiculous that you had half a mind to ask if he was making it up, but you supposed that with Naruto, anything could happen.
“So?” he asked, looking behind him to check the array of flowers. His expression was neutral but had an unmistakably smug air behind it. “Did you do okay without me?”
“Just fine, thanks!” you snapped. “But my days selling flowers is over. I hated it.”
“Well, suppose you have one more customer.”
“Oh?”
He reached into one of his pockets to rummage and pulled out a few crumpled bills. You played along with his ambiguous act and put them into the register. You weren’t sure where he was going with it but didn’t say anything.
“Pick out anything you’d like then, sir.”
He got off the stool and wandered to the back, settling on one of the simple rose bouquets. You watched and grimaced when his back was turned. For a lover, maybe? Maybe he’d met somebody in another land. Or maybe there was somebody waiting for him, and you were the evil one keeping him away from home. Had you been pining for the wrong man this whole time? After all, nobody ever really knew the whole truth behind ANBU folk. For all you knew you’d been digging yourself a hole 6 feet under to bury yourself in.
Yamato walked back to the chair and sat, before handing the bouquet over the counter very casually. You felt your brow furrow, and in a considerably colder tone you muttered, “you already paid.”
“I know. It’s for you.”
“What?”
He shook it, allowing the petals to rustle. “Take it, [Name]. It’s for you.”
Wondrously, you did, accepting it gently with both hands. It was surreal, the way he was looking at you, and suddenly you wondered if you were in some sort of sick genjutsu. He scratched his head and averted his gaze.
“I always wanted to find you to talk. After you saved my life and all, remember? But I never knew what to say, so we just stuck with the same old… but I guess after facing off with death so many times, it’s made me realize that I don’t have any more excuses.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying you’re the best florist there is. And, if you’re off work, I’d like to see you a little longer.”
When had he gotten so bold? Yamato’s expression hadn’t changed, unwavering in his easy smile. He was always so serious, so strong—though you supposed you’d seen a lot of dimensions to him. Some many might not even know of. You knew how he loved to tease, how he came at you relentlessly with charming sarcastic energy—you knew how he looked weak at near death, holding onto life by a thread.
You hated flowers. They were wishy washy, temperamental and sentimental and weak. You were a ninja, well-versed in violence and death. You didn’t want to be surrounded by such gentle, quiet, individual life statements.
And yet here he was, carelessly planting a seed within your heart anyways. A seed of affection. Nurturing it would bloom love. Killing it would kill you. You inhaled sharply.
“You’ll pay for drinks?”
His eyes, dark, lit up softly like sweet golden tree sap in sun.
“Will do.”
You didn’t think you’d ever take on the flower shop again, even if Inoichi got on his knees and begged like a hound. But maybe it hadn’t been all that bad.