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As of late, Tuesdays had become Ougai Mori's favorite day of the week. There was nothing particularly special about it-- in fact, it was an arbitrary selection that didn't harbor much significance-- but he had given it meaning of his own volition. When he took on the mantle of being the leader of the Port Mafia, he had resigned himself to never having another free day for as long as he lived. Every second he spent needed to go towards something for the good of the group, making time for himself rare and deeply cherished. Stolen moments with Elise, the silence that accompanied deep evenings, and the soothing aroma of tea after a hard day of work helped each day go by, but Tuesdays were different. Tuesdays were selfish. Tuesdays were the only day he purposefully set aside a block of time solely for his own desires and refused to allow anything to interrupt it. Tuesday mornings were reserved for romance.
Tuesdays were the days that he brought Yukichi Fukuzawa flowers.
It was a routine that he had started about a year ago that he never failed to follow. He woke up about an hour earlier than normal and started the day off with a cup of Fukuzawa’s favorite tea. It wasn’t a preference that they shared-- Mori’s taste tended to be much more expensive-- but it helped to set the mood for the day. The way it smelled reminded him of Fukuzawa and the way it tasted made his tongue remember the first time they had kissed. There had been blood-- they had been soaked in it-- and the drink had been prepared to help them wind down after a job well done.
Sometimes, Mori bit his lip until it bled to add that iron thrill and complete the sensory memory.
Once he had satisfied himself with the initial indulgence of tea, he donned himself in his street clothes and took to the streets of Yokohama. They both loved that city with all of their hearts and would sacrifice anything to see it flourish, but in the early morning light, thoughts of violence, trickery, and were distant from his mind. He could breathe in the crisp, cool air and let it out peacefully, simply enjoying existing in the moment.
This particular day was no different. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply through his nose and sighed blissfully. The morning was so lovely; it was a nice contrast to the murky rain that had been tainted the past few weeks. Regardless of the weather, he had always come out; Tuesdays were the days that he brought Yukichi Fukuzawa flowers, rain, shine, or otherwise.
By his side, Elise looked up at him, lips pursed. “I don’t get why you always have to leave so early. It’s not like he’s going anywhere,” she protested, kicking a stray pebble down the sidewalk.
Mori tucked his hands into his pockets and opened his eyes once again. Looking out at the horizon, he could see that the sky still harbored a hint of orange, the sun still working to rise into place. “Whether I have to worry about him leaving or not has nothing to do with it,” he mused. “I would much rather start off the day on a positive note than wait for something to potentially ruin it. Besides, the city is so lovely like this. It’s soothing, don’t you agree?”
“No,” she answered, but he had expected nothing less. She couldn’t hope to understand the kind of sentimentality that came with a quiet morning stroll, the first task of the day being to demonstrate his affectionate regard.
Every Tuesday, he followed the same path to the same florist shop and saw many of the same people on their morning commute. If someone truly wanted to find him during his personal time, it would be easy, but most members of his organization knew better than to bother him during his weekly flower run. Civilians who stopped and spoke to him never kept him for too long and he had learned a handful of useful names and faces over the past year.
It was almost hard to believe that it had been an entire year since he had started this romantic routine. The idea had come to him spontaneously-- he knew that Fukuzawa enjoyed little gestures like these, for he had become especially soft in the heart with his age-- and following through had been one of the best ideas he had ever had. There was no better way to show how he continued to value the other man despite their differences and he knew that Fukuzawa had no choice but to accept.
As they approached the florist, Elise tugged on his arm. “The President of the Armed Detective Agency is calling,” she announced, showing Mori his own phone. Sure enough, the screen was alight with that easily recognizable name, the ringtone the loudest part of their surroundings.
Mori put up a hand. “He can wait,” he replied. “I’ll get to him eventually. Just let it ring.”
Elise seemed displeased by the command, but she obeyed regardless. It wasn’t as if she wanted to talk to the president of the rival organization, anyways; in fact, she was rather displeased that Mori continued to maintain contact. Nothing she said seemed to change his mind, though. At the end of the day, he was the one who made all of the decisions, so she let the phone ring until the president was booted to voicemail. He would be calling back soon and, if she was right, he would be promptly ignored again.
Upon entering the flower shop, the pair was greeted by the smiling face of the florist herself. “Good morning, sir. It’s nice to see you again.”
Mori returned her smile with one of his own. “It is a good morning, isn’t it?” he mused in agreement. “Much nicer than last week. I was so afraid that the arrangement you made for me wouldn’t make it to its destination without being crushed.”
“My flowers are resilient little things,” she replied. “Should I assume that you want the usual?”
“Not quite,” Mori answered, pulling a folded up piece of paper from his pocket. “This one must be special. Today marks a full year since I start delivering these flowers; he deserves something extravagant.”
The florist whistled quietly in appreciation as she accepted the paper. “Has it really been a year already? Time certainly does fly. I hope this man of yours knows how lucky he is to have someone like you.”
“You flatter me,” he chuckled. As the florist looked over his requests for the arrangement, he arched a brow. “It’s not too much, is it?”
Looking back up, she shook her head. “No, not at all. I should have this done in about thirty minutes.” Her gaze softened. “I will say, you definitely know your way around flowers, sir.”
Mori hummed thoughtfully. “I know very little compared to your expertise, I’m afraid, but I have had a year to practice. I should hope that I picked up on something .”
Truth be told, he had been planning this particular arrangement for over a month. Flower language wasn’t something that he had spent much time on before this, but he was beginning to understand the importance of it. They acted as a means of communicating things he could never hope to verbalize; surely, it was something that Fukuzawa would appreciate.
Red carnations, pink roses, white chrysanthemums, and a bit of garnish. They sent a powerful message-- one that came from deep within his heart-- and he prayed that they fit together as well as they did in his head.
As the florist prepared his bouquet, he meandered throughout the shop, looking at a number of premade displays. They were so lovely and perfect for a man in a pinch, but Mori had nothing but time. Even if he was late, he knew that Fukuzawa would be waiting for him.
Fukuzawa had always been there for him, even when he wasn’t. If there had been one constant in his life, it was the man who had protected him; loved him; loathed him; completed him. Even after so many years-- even after what Mori could only call a messy breakup-- that fact still rang true. No amount of fighting between their organizations could ever hope to change that.
After a few minutes, Elise nudged him and held up his phone. “It’s the president again,” she said. “You know that he’s just going to keep calling until you pick up. You should just get it over with.”
Sighing, Mori shook his head. “Not yet. I’m not ready. I’ll speak with him soon. Just let it ring.”
Though she pouted, Elise did just that, sending the president to voicemail for the second time in an hour.
It wasn’t much longer before the florist was calling them back to appraise the bouquet she had arranged. The colors meshed well and it was nicely balanced, no one flower overwhelming and distracting from the others. Knowing what it truly meant only made him infinitely more pleased with the outcome.
“Beautiful as always,” he complimented. “They are absolutely perfect.” Fishing around for his wallet in his pocket, he arched a brow inquiringly. “Now, how much do I owe you..?”
The florist put up a hand. “Nothing at all. These are on the house,” she insisted. “You have been my best customer for a year now. Consider it an anniversary present.”
Surprise flashed quickly across Mori’s face only to be replaced by gratitude. This truly was a lovely morning. “You are too kind,” he replied, accepting the gorgeous arrangement into his arms. “You’ve just made this old man’s day. Thank you.”
He would repay her in other ways, then. He had already decided that no trouble would ever come to her for as long as she lived-- not if the Port Mafia could help it-- but perhaps there were other ways to show his appreciation. All of the tools were right there at his disposal, after all; all he needed was the whim.
Leaving the shop with the bouquet in hand, his heart started to pound a little harder in anticipation. Despite seeing him at least once every week, traveling to where he knew Fukuzawa waited always made his heart do silly things. Normally, he dismissed things like sentiment and emotion as little more than folly distractions, but he had learned to appreciate his love a little more over the past year. It was something he should have done beforehand and he knew it-- so many years had gone down the drain because of this-- but it was always better late than never, yes?
It was a twenty minute walk from the flower shop to where Fukuzawa always waited for him, but it felt like an eternity. He felt like he couldn’t arrive fast enough despite already adding some kick to his typically leisurely stride. Elise didn’t like him moving so quickly-- Slow down! You’re too old to be walking so fast! -- but he didn’t pay her much mind. She could keep up; she just liked causing problems.
When he finally stood before Fukuzawa-- his Fukuzawa-- a small, genuine smile tugged on his lips and he sank down on one knee.
“Hello, Yukichi,” he greeted, using the man’s given name to give a sense of intimacy between them. “I brought these flowers for you. They’re a new arrangement I designed. They’re quite lovely, don’t you think?”
Fukuzawa didn’t respond.
With a soft sigh, he handed them over. “I put a lot of work into it. Do you know the language of flowers? I’ll admit, I had to do more research than I had anticipated, but I find the result to be stunning.”
Fukuzawa remained silent.
A lump swelled up in Mori’s throat, making his voice sound thick as he spoke around it. “Can you believe that it has been an entire year since we started this game? The florist I go to is such a delightful lady; she called these our anniversary gift . Cute, isn’t it?”
Fukuzawa remained as stony as ever.
Closing his eyes, Mori bit the inside of his cheek for a moment before speaking again. “I have had a lot to consider over the past year, particularly about you. It wasn’t until I remembered that I love you that I discovered that I am lost without you. One year is hardly enough to make up for all of the bad blood between us, but I hope that it will eventually begin to patch things over.” He opened his eyes and looked at Fukuzawa. “I don’t seek your forgiveness, but I do want you . You will have to forgive my forwardness.” The final statement was half of a joke, but the humor wasn’t properly reflected in his tone.
Fukuzawa didn’t say a word.
Down on his knees, Mori was at eye level with Elise, who showed off his phone to him once again. “ Rintaro . He keeps calling! Just answer already; he’s annoying me!”
Drawing in a deep breath, he released it in a long sigh. “You will have to excuse me, Yukichi. I need to take this.”
Finally accepting the call, he held the phone up to his face and forced a thin smile. “Hello, there. I apologize for the delay. How might I be of service?”
As the man on the other end started to scold him for ignoring his calls, Mori shifted his position on the ground so that he was sitting properly. Normally, he wasn’t a fan of sitting in the grass, but he could make an exception this time. Being careful not to crush the flowers he had gifted, he leaned back until his shoulders rested against the cool marble headstone.
“You’ll have to forgive me, President Kunikida. You called me while I was very busy and I couldn’t spare a single moment. Not while I was visiting an old friend. Don’t fret; you have my full attention now.” Mori’s eyes widened slightly at the president’s next words, heart doing a strange lurch. The thin smile faded into something a little softer as he tipped his head back, resting his head affectionately against Fukuzawa.
“Yes, of course. I’ll let him know that you all say hello.”