Chapter Text
Sayaka opens the flower shop at six o’clock every morning. At the time, the world is quiet; the world is her own. Nothing there but her hands reaching for the keys, and placing them in the lock, opening, what seems to be, what is for her, a little door into her own world. A place of serenity and tranquillity. A place of flowers.
The smell hits Sayaka as soon as she walks in. Whoever worked yesterday forgot to remove the lilies that are perched on the shelf above the counter – but it isn’t a big deal, she’s not upset. Everyone makes mistakes. Besides, the reason she arrives this early is so that she can take care of it all, make it all perfect.
She sets down her bag, taking care to lean it against the umbrella rack so that it doesn’t fall over, lest its contents slip out. She takes her apron off the hook behind the counter and puts it on – it’s not always necessary, but pollen is bright and stains clothes easily, the one from lily stamens especially so. Her hands reach up for the plant, secured in a colourful earthen pot, and bring it down with practiced ease. No dirt on the floor today, thank you, she thinks, smiling to herself at this small victory. She carries the plant pot outside, towards the compost bins where she removes the wilting lilies and their soil – once the pride of the shop, now just another piece of the gloom. Just like me… she thinks, the words sinking in before she can stop herself. It’s not entirely true, but it’s not entirely false either. Between the ages of sixteen and twenty, she’d been an idol. And not just any idol – the most popular idol in the country, with fame overseas too. She’d led her group to success, her angelic voice and sweet image attracting the best offers, the best opportunities. But it had all stopped. A member died in stabbing – a crazed fan taking things too far, and suddenly Sayaka had seen all the downsides of this career she’d chosen. Could you even choose something like a career at sixteen, truly? Sayaka doubted it. But how jarring the realisation had been. Idol professions don’t last forever – you are an hourglass, a ticking clock, waiting until the hour, the minute, when someone with too much time zooms in on a photo of you posted on a forum and comments ‘Is that a wrinkle?’.
No, Sayaka had thought. I shan’t let it happen. So she terminated her contract and stared at what was left of her life. No relatives – her father had died in car crash, driving while inebriated. No friends – she wasn’t on the best terms with her idol label mates, presumably because of her success. No qualifications – Sayaka had passed middle school with excellent grades, but had no high school diploma or other qualifications to show for herself. And no money – other than what she’d made as an idol which, after paying off the contract, was significantly less than she’d thought it was. She’d been so scared, so overwhelmed, so stuck. She had considered going back to her label, her agency, and begging them to take her back. But she hadn’t. She wanted something new, a fresh start. Something sustainable.
Being forgotten about when you’re an idol is surprisingly, or unsurprisingly easy. A few weeks of not leaving her home, a few interviews with leaders of idol companies, the debut of a few new groups… It was over. She’d ventured out of her home, not accosted by anyone, and seen less than four posters depicting her likeness. It was over.
When she got home that day, she cried for the first time in years. She wasn’t sure what she was crying for – what she’d lost? But that could be anything; her father, her idol friend, her job… And she’d gained nothing but the crushing realisation that she had nothing but her labour, her skill. And what skill was that? A decent singing voice and a cute image? Nothing that would help her now, surely. So she’d signed up for an online course – nothing special, just a high school level diploma. And, she’d thought to herself, feeling oriented for the first time in months, If I have that, I’ll have something.
Sayaka shakes herself out of her thoughts. She’s not this lily, she works at this flower shop, and it’s going to open soon. Seven twenty-five AM on the dot. She takes the pot back inside and places it in the store room. A vase is plucked from the shelf, filled with water and some long stem roses she cut yesterday – she was intending on drying them out, to use for either décor or to make tea, but they’d make a beautiful centre piece for the shop, and that’s what is needed now. She rearranges more things in the shop – her hands flit and fly with dexterity – the closest she’d ever gotten to this level of hand activity before was playing the piano, and even then her hands had felt clumsy. But now here she is, ordering the hanging vines about and making the shop resemble a little fairy’s store. She’s proud, and she clings on to the feeling, unwilling to let it escape. ‘Stay with me,’ she mutters softly, the words escaping without her notice. Stay with me.
In forty minutes, the store is done – Sayaka’s always pleased with her work, but today there’s a little more pride to be had. She’s added a new alcove, at the behest of her employer, which boasts a small collection of handmade teas. It had been easy to convince her hirer that this would be a prosperous venture – she’d simply suggested it, and he’d agreed. Maybe when he saw her he was reminded by all the other ways she’d ameliorated the shop – at first taking on this seemingly underqualified girl might have been an act of kindness, but now she was a part of the shop, as integral to it as its flowers. I’m proud, Sayaka thinks again, as she walks to the greenhouse. And what a wonderful feeling it is.
The greenhouse and the store room are both attached to the main room, the shop. The two doors on different sides lead to entirely different environments. The store room was cold and dry, filled with jars, vases and all manner of other things. Things that you needed for flowers, but were only half as pretty. Things flowers needed to survive, despite the lack of the item’s supposed beauty. And the greenhouse? Why, it was simply the most wonderful thing Sayaka had ever seen, all streaming sunlight and green tinged reflections, beautiful flowers that took her breath away every time she entered, sitting there paused. They looked so lifelike somehow – as if they would start talking as soon as she left. If I could, I’d never leave, thought Sayaka. And although she would have to leave soon – ten minutes to store opening, according to her watch, she’d could sit her a little while at least.
//
‘Hi, how can I help you? Maybe Sayaka had been wrong when she’d assumed that her skills as an idol wouldn’t come in handy here. The current customer was looking significantly more at ease than he had earlier, and that was saying something. As he explained the flowers he was looking for, a timid looking woman entered the store, the tense expression on her face changing softly into something akin to awe. It was a nice change to see, Sayaka thought. The woman looked much better without the scowl marring her features, and she had to force herself to return her focus to the customer’s words as the new person reached up to brush her fingers upon a jasmine flower.
‘Sure! And will that be all?’ The man said it was, and left the store, his coat trailing behind him, and finally, finally, Sayaka could turn her full attention to the new customer, the woman, without it being in the name of personal curiosity and instead being professional attendance.
‘Hello! What can I help you with?’ asked Sayaka, smiling gently to this person who seemed so sensitive, so easily affected by her surroundings. The reply was a murmur that she couldn’t quite hear. She caught the words smiling, and idiot, which did not bode well. But Sayaka wasn’t to get upset over that. She tried again. ‘Sorry, can you repeat that?’ At her statement, the woman seemed to come into herself, straightening out and making brief eye contact with her, before clearing her own throat.
‘Um, I was, um, wondering if you had any flowers that might be good with children?’ The woman had a pretty voice, low and soft – it made you quiet, made you want to listen. And want to listen Sayaka did.
‘Of course! I’m sure I can pick out something suitable. Do you have any children, Miss?’ Sayaka asked. I’m prying, she reprimanded herself. I’m prying and I shouldn’t be.
‘What?! No, of course not! How could you even…’ The response was exclaimed with so much surprise, that if it weren’t for the glaringly genuine (and just… glaring) expression on the woman’s face, she’d have thought she was acting.
‘O-okay. I’m sorry, truly.’ Sayaka replied sincerely, bowing slightly and hoping that she hadn’t upset the woman, who has now holding her single braid in her hands, and running her fingers on it roughly.
‘Seriously,’ the woman responded, sounding exasperated. ‘I only came here because it was the closest. If I knew it was also like… this, I wouldn’t have!’
‘Closest to where?’ Sayaka questioned. Silly girl. You don’t know what’s good for you.
‘What? Closest to my bookstore, of course. That’s where I work. We don’t treat our customers like this, though.’
We’ve slipped out of our roles, Sayaka thought. We’ve slipped out of our roles as employee and customer. But still, she couldn’t reign herself in. Why couldn’t she?
‘Oh, the bookstore! I know where you’re speaking of! Your seasonal displays are always beautiful…’
‘Wait, seriously? Are you… are you being genuine? You’re not making fun, are you?’
How did she even come to that conclusion? thought Sayaka. ‘Of course not!’ She lifted her hands in what she hoped was a placating gesture. ‘Honest!’
‘Oh…’ The look on the woman’s face was almost… disappointed? Did she genuinely think I was being mean? ‘Well, thank you. Sorry for jumping to conclusions, I guess.’ And then another comment, mumbled under her breath. ‘I like your displays too.’
‘Really?!’ Sayaka exclaimed, almost pouncing on the words. The woman flinched once, then twice, as Sayaka took her hands and held them in her own. ‘Thank you, thank you!’
‘God, what’s with you…’ said the woman, looking abashed and extricating her own hands.
‘Sorry, sorry….’ said Sayaka gently, before making a decision. She put out her right hand and looked the woman in the eye, making her facial expression stern and professional. ‘I’m Sayaka Maizono’
‘Jeez, why…. ugh.’ The woman seemed to make up her mind and put out her own, and as the shook she said ‘I’m Toko Fukawa. There, I’m not repeating it.’
Toko Fukawa… The name ruminated in Sayaka’s mind and she tried to place it. It sounds familiar…. someone I knew when I was an idol? She took another glance at the woman’s face. No, I would have remembered her… So I know her name but I haven’t seen her face? What sort of person… And then came the realisation, quick and lucid. A bookstore. Someone who’s name you knew but face you didn’t. ‘Oh my god.’
‘What? Are my hands sweaty?’ The words were accompanied by a tug, an attempt to take back her hand which was now clenched between two of Sayaka’s – the other had not been deliberate but it was there, holding down deftly.
‘Oh my god.’ Sayaka said again.
‘Seriously, is that all you can say? You’re gaping like a goldfish!’
At this, Sayaka shut her mouth, but didn’t release her hands. ‘You’re Toko Fukawa!’
‘I literally just told you that? What is wrong with this girl?’
‘But you’re like… famous! You wrote ‘So Lingers the Ocean’… you’re like my favourite author!’
‘Why are you so surprised? Are you upset? It’s only natural you would be, after seeing me… It turns out your favourite author doesn’t look the way you expected and you’re disgusted. It’s palpable.’
‘No! I mean… Miss Fukawa… I’m just very happy to meet you.’
‘Oh. Well thanks, I guess. And just Toko is fine.’
‘Cool! You can call me Sayaka, then.’
‘Okay…. Sayaka.’
Why is my heart beating so fast? Oh my god she said my name. Toko Fukawa said my name. Wait am I still holding her hand? Okay, stop doing that. Calm down. Flowers. She wanted flowers.
‘I’m going to get you your flowers, okay? Carnations are good long stem flowers for children – no thorns, but peonies and pansies are better for planting. You know windowsills, and all that? Do you have a preference?’
‘Um, pansies would be good. We need them for the children’s reading corner at the bookstore.’
‘Okay! I’ll be sure to choose plenty of bright colours, okay?’ Sayaka quelled her nerves and went ahead, choosing flowers that she thought would evoke joy from children. Vibrant colours and gentle smells that you weren’t likely to be intolerant to. When she’d selected what she deemed enough – and glanced over and saw Fukawa’s nod, she proceeded to the counter and began to package them gently. Perhaps she should have chosen something with a bit more resilience? No, these were a good choice, she reassured herself. Besides, Toko was happy, and wasn’t that what mattered? Customer satisfaction? Customer satisfaction, or the satisfaction of this customer? said a voice in her mind, tinged with cruelty. She inwardly told it to shut up.
‘Alright, here are your flowers! That’ll be two thousand yen.’ Sayaka said, waiting patiently as Toko took a plain black purse from her pocket and check for notes. Sayaka thought of her own purse, light pink with blue stripes, not to mention covered with stickers and blushed with shame. As she took the money, and Toko turned for the door, the thing she wanted to say made itself visible in her mind. Say it! Say it! ‘Hope to be seeing you again!’
Toko turned gently and looked in her direction before leaving. If she noticed the difference in the way she and the customer before her had been addressed, she didn’t comment on it.
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