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Haru Okumura was an incredibly thoughtful woman, Yusuke realised, just from the way she gingerly organised each and every single dish for him to paint. All of these were the pinnacle of her work, and she wanted to capture their beauty in permanence.
It was why she sought him out, with the promise of good meals and a shelter for him.
“There is no need for that,” Yusuke mentioned. “A simple space for me would suffice.”
But Haru merely waved him off. “Consider this compensation for the quality of your work. You deserve it, Yusuke, and I’m honoured to be your customer.”
Yusuke managed a mirthful smile, tinged with pride.
“Very well. I’ll make sure that the pieces I procure will bring out the aesthetic of your café,” he promised. “It has to be perfect.”
Haru giggled. “Of course. Take all the time you need. Just let me finish this up.”
He was in his final year of university, while she just graduated not long ago. She used to stay with Makoto, but when the girl entered the police academy, she approached Yusuke. If he could get cheaper rent and better living conditions by staying with a friend, who was Yusuke Kitagawa to deny himself of that opportunity?
Haru, he realised, also liked the company. Her father’s death, to a certain extent, did some good for her. Yusuke understood that feeling too well; it was the same with his own father-figure.
The artist found reassurance that he wouldn’t be alone; a second opinion was always valuable. While there were parts of her house that she found rather tacky and gaudy, Yusuke knew that it was also a treasure trove: the valuable pieces were found everywhere.
“Here you go,” Haru finished, lightly clapping her hands together. He waited until she snapped a photo before he took a look at the dish: a lemon and lime tart, flanked by french meringue and topped with gold leafs, tiny herbs and edible flowers; it was intricately arranged to look like a garden.
“Marvelous. Simply exquisite!” he exclaimed. “This would certainly do well for my portfolio.”
He didn’t miss the way she turned away, almost bashfully.
The Okumuras had a greenhouse garden, where Haru spent her time tending to the plants. Sometimes, Yusuke found himself there, wanting to do studies of nature. Other times, he found himself meandering through the forest in the backyard.
It was solitary, away from the crowd, but enriching in experience: the sounds of the birds were clearer; the crickets were louder, and the sound of cars driving were like a distant memory. Yusuke felt like he was in another place, another time.
Sometimes, Haru joined him in the silence with a cup of iced tea for the both of them.
His friend never rushed him to finish his paintings in a timely manner. Haru preferred to go with his flow, and never once chased him for it. It was so unlike Madarame, and so unlike the demands of school, that Yusuke found himself struck by the strangeness of it all.
And he considered himself strange too.
“Haru, why do you not have a deadline for me?” he asked.
“I feel that it’s better if you do things at your own pace. Pressure does no good for inspiration,” she explained. “Neither does the heat. How’s the iced tea?”
Yusuke’s eyes flickered to the lavender in his drink, standing proud and tall, wanting to be seen. He took another sip of the floral-infused beverage, and commented on the citrus assailing his taste buds.
“It’s a perfect balance of sweet and sour. It is conflicting in a pleasant way.”
Haru grinned. “That’s good.”
“What’s the theme you wish for your café?” Yusuke questioned. “I don’t believe I’ve asked that before.”
Haru took a moment to think.
“A garden of my own making.”
Yusuke understood instantly.
The paintings he’d been doing for her always seemed to have some earthy motif to it, such as leafs or ingredients that resembled branches. There seemed to be a herbal scent to a good amount of her dishes. At times, he felt as though he were scouring through a dark forest for ingredients unknown to mankind. Other times, he felt like he was running through a valley, touched by the morning rays.
Now that he lived on her compound, he understood exactly where she got her inspiration from.
The opening of Café Jardin was almost here.
Their friends turned up the night before to help Haru in preparing the café for opening: Sumire and Makoto made sure that the uniforms were in place; Ren reviewed the schedule for the next day, discussing with Haru about the finer details; Futaba was entertaining Morgana as they took a tour around the house.
In return, Haru made sure that the guest rooms were prepared for them so that they could have a good night’s rest. She also prepared an array of dishes for them to try out, much to Ryuji and Ann’s excitement.
Once everything was settled, the rest of the night was spent catching up with each other, until Makoto determined it was time for them to head to bed to rest up.
For some strange reason, Yusuke found that he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, before deciding that he needed to head to the kitchen. A cup of tea sounded like just what he needed
He caught a glimpse of Haru turning the corner on the way back to his room. He needed to satiate the burning curiosity of why his friend was awake, in the middle of the night, when she was supposed to be resting.
Haru was on the balcony. She looked like a goddess in the moonlight, and Yusuke dare not say that she wasn’t beautiful, because she was breathtaking. He held his breath, wondering whether she’d realise he was there.
She eventually did when she turned around.
“Why are you awake?” she asked.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Yusuke pointed out, and took a step closer. “Would you like some company?”
Haru merely smiled and nodded.
Yusuke fell into the empty space beside her, admiring the view before them: a bird's eye view of the garden. Rows of crops looked picturesque from above, and the sheer number of them reminded him of how hard Haru worked to make her garden grow.
He shifted his attention to his friend. What he saw was worry he hadn’t seen during the night, presumably hidden so that their friends wouldn’t worry.
“I was expecting a little more enthusiasm, but I’m hardly seeing it,” he remarked. “If you’d like, I’m willing to lend an ear.”
“Sometimes, I wonder whether I can live up to my grandfather’s legacy. At the same time, my father was indeed an expert at forming connections,” she commented. “He did right where my grandfather couldn’t, and vice versa. It feels as though it's impossible to have the best of both worlds.”
Yusuke wasn’t sure how to answer that. He barely knew the mechanics of business, but he did understand where Haru was driving: to combine the old and the new, but she was worried about the conflicts that came with it. Even after her father’s passing, the pressure still remained on her — it followed her throughout high school and college, and she persevered, well aware of the shoes she needed to fill.
Except this time, she wasn’t alone.
It’d do her good to be reminded of that.
“Perhaps that may be the case for your family, but I strongly believe that you can turn the impossible into the possible. We’ve done that before, haven’t we?”
She looked at him for a moment, and he took the chance to study her features and commit it to memory.
“You’re right. How could I have forgotten that?” she admitted. “It’s been so long. I miss those times.”
Yusuke chuckled. “I think we all do.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, basking in the pale moonlight. The stars glimmered above them, desperate to shine before they faded. They reminded Yusuke of the dreams of those who slept, and the hopes of those untouched by the corruption.
He prayed that someday, Haru will shine brighter than those stars, and that she’ll bloom like the fire flowers in the sky.
