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Wormwood, Zinnia
Absence, bitter sorrow; thinking of you
To say Shiemi's status quo was a little rustic and primal—if not utterly monotonous to the average patron of Futsumaya—might have been an understatement. She would have liked to believe that everything she'd been through ever since she'd stepped out of her little garden had prepared her for her future as Shemihaza. But as far as new experiences go, ascending into the Garden of Amahara was a lot more than she bargained for.
Before Amahara, she'd had time to ease into new challenges as though she were gingerly sliding into a hot bath. This felt more like she was being chucked into a boiling hot spring without warning.
Starting in Cram School, moving through boot camps and fieldwork, graduating into a full-time student of True Cross Academy, gradually unlocking all of the strength she and Nii shared. She used to be so utterly frightened of that sort of life, but she adapted to it like the stubborn weed Izumo insisted she was.
The Uzai Clan is like a hurricane, sweeping in and flocking to her, clucking over her skin and hair and clothes until she's perfect, perfect, perfect. Even the budding wildflowers of her weed-like nature shy away from their invasive and suffocating presence. They pinch her skin and tug her locks and swarm her frequently to make sure she's healthy then send her on her way to Shemihaza, who smiles at her with her grandmother's face.
"You might be a little overwhelmed, at first," Shiemi's grandmother tells her, her worn and weathered hand squeezing Shiemi's shoulder. Overwhelmed didn't even begin to cover it.
Not surprisingly, this is what Shiemi's breaking point is.
She doesn't remember running, doesn't remember any footfalls or the sound of her grandmother's voice echoing over the green to beckon her back. One moment she's standing in the menacing light of Shemihaza's crystallized form, the next she finds herself secluded within a vast meadow, weeping over a gathering of fat flowers with vibrant petals.
Shiemi doesn't much like crying anymore. To be frank, she's done an awful lot of that lately and would like to be done with it.
But she cries anyway.
She cries until her throat is raw and her eyes are puffy and red. She cries until the reservoir inside her is all dried up and she has no more tears left to cry. Then, she lies down in the patch of flowers and pretends, for just a still moment, that everything is okay. She lets the colors of the garden wash over her, reminded of a gentle sunset—of the last sunset she watched…
…with Rin.
Pain swells in her already aching heart. Izumo's words ring clearly in her mind.
"You really love him, don't you?"
Yes. Yes, she did.
She loved his energy and his attitude, his warmth and his contagious joy, his bright smile and his gravelly voice and his funny expressions. She loved his rough edges and short temper and endlessly caring nature. She loved all of him. Even just stealing a few seconds of his presence for herself comforted her in ways that nothing else could.
And now, it'll very well be months, possibly years before she ever gets to see him again.
Shiemi feels the ache in her heart worsen.
Rin had been by her side since the beginning. He'd torn her free of the chains of her fear, unshackled her, and let her loose into the bright and lively world she hadn't wandered into for so long. They faced so much together—the little ghost child, the unbreakable prison, the mysteries of the academy, the dark, metal veins of the Illuminati's headquarters.
Her biggest challenge now stands before her, more terrifying than anything she's ever had the fortune (or misfortune) of confronting. This time, without Rin. Without her dearest friend. Without his pearly smile to keep her going.
She shudders, her breath crystallizing in her lungs. She wonders, briefly, how long she has to lay here for the garden to grow over her.
'Moron,' a voice whispers in her ear, its accent and admonishing tone agonizingly familiar. 'You're really just gonna give up? I snapped those roots for a reason, yanno.'
Shiemi's eyes fly open, her breath whooshing back into her lungs as she bolts upright. She knows, deep down, that the voice is generated by nothing but her own subconscious desperate to be by his side. But she's strangely comforted by the shimmering visage of Rin hovering over her with his grumpy face and slouched posture. She giggles at how clearly she can envision him like that.
'Are you just gonna undo all your hard work? I thought you wanted to catch up with us.'
"I do," she breathes out. "I want to be strong, like you… Rin."
'Then get up, dummy. Come join me.'
Shiemi inhales one icy, determined breath. Her legs shake like jello as she stands and marches back toward her grandmother, stone-faced and quite possibly ready to crunch this new obstacle underfoot. She has to try, anyway, if she's ever going to see him again.
Wait for me, Rin…
Rainflower
I love you back, I will never forget you
It's almost anticlimactic, how quickly everything happens, how quickly the Illuminati suffer defeat. Satan definitely won't stop wailing about it from the depths of Gehenna for a few millennia, that much is certain. But Shiemi cares neither this nor that for Satan because her eyes are drawn toward one devil and one devil only.
Rin's flames diminish to embers that glow around his feet. They're so at ease and withdrawn around him, not deigning to singe even a petal on the white and pink flowers now devouring the landscape where curling tendrils of rot and hellish miasma once thrived.
There's just them, in that single, solitary moment. Shiemi, with her hair long and loose and flowing down past her hips. Rin, with his brand-new exorcist's cassock and pin. Amaimon is somewhere around here too, no doubt being a pain, but Shiemi has all the faith in Nii to keep him buried under a mound of vines for the time being. At least, until she has something better to do with him.
Faintly, Izumo's voice sibilates in the nearest parts of her memory, gradually flowing in with the stream of euphoria pooling into her body. She's teasing her again, asking if she likes him. The answer is yes. Still yes. Always yes.
Go to him! Her body screams at her and she obeys, breaking into a dead sprint. Tell him!
Rin's arms open and catch her in a warm, bracing hug and spin her around in several frantic circles until he falls backward onto the ground, all the breath knocked out of him. They spend several minutes laughing and panting and crying, deluged by emotions and tears and proximity neither have experienced since Coal Tar Lord Koks hurled them down a rotting house's foundation.
Something soft and warm balloons up in Shiemi's chest as she stares at Rin with a little more intensity than might be socially acceptable and draws her voice up and out of her lungs.
"I LIKE YOU TOO!" She blurts out.
A nervous chuckle bubbles out of Rin's chest and into the air.
"Like a friend, right?" He rasps.
"Like more than a friend," Shiemi corrects, stumbling over her words yet forcing them out at near tongue-tying speeds. "I like like you. I… I want to be with you."
The confusion blooming across Rin's face pauses for a moment, like a winter frost nipping her flowers in early December, before making way for a tentative grin.
"You mean it?" Rin asks, his voice sounding oddly thick. Shiemi smiles and nods. She can feel her insides light up like a beautiful, rising sun peeking over the mountain tops. The corners of his eyes well up with tears and a sob drags out of him. "Argh! I wanted to be the one to confess!"
"You did, silly!"
"Well, yeah… I guess… but I-"
Shiemi cuts him off, unable to control the sudden swell of laughter that pours out of her. Tears bead in her eyes and pour down her cheeks, warm and gentle in contrast to the bitter salt of the ones she shed in the garden. She loves him, she loves him so much she can't even express how much her heart hurt in his absence. So instead, she leans down, her hair casting a sunlit curtain around her head.
"It's okay," she replies, already knowing how to finish his sentence. "I didn't forget you. I'm not leaving again."
Perhaps she hopes to cheer him up a little bit or at the very least put him at peace with himself. The last thing she expects is for him to break down in tears. The first sob draws out of him, breaking and wet. He all but squeezes the soul out of her in a bone-crushing embrace. It's the stab to the heart she both needed and didn't need and it's very quick to worm its way into her. Before Shiemi knows it, she's crying too. Again.
This time, she doesn't feel quite so sick of it.
"I'm so relieved!" He wheezes. "I missed you!"
Shiemi sucks in a breath, burrowing her head into the crook of Rin's neck. She absorbs his warmth, eager to bask in it, comforted by his pulse.
"I missed you too."
Aster, Queen Anne's Lace
Symbol of love; sanctuary
Rin's really not all that versed in the way of dates. Flowers? Hand holding? Love languages? It's all gibberish to him, more so than German—which Mephisto bemoans his attempts at sound like garbled yelling. That isn't to say that Rin, inexperienced and nerve-shot to the core, isn't a little bit of a romantic at heart. After all, what young teenager hasn't spent time dreaming of a place where they're accepted, loved, and cherished with no prerequisites? A place that feels safe and is gentle on the soul like a beam of light in a dark and dusty lonesome?
A sanctuary.
And for Rin, some kissing and cuddling thrown into that sanctuary would sweeten the deal.
Not that anyone in his life, past or present, bothered to convince him that he was worthy of all that. Between the harsh whispers of his classmates in school, the acrid verbal lashings of every authority figure in his life save for Father Fujimoto, and the gnawing vacancy of acknowledgment or love, Rin found it was much easier to validate himself by pushing everyone else away.
They couldn't hurt him if he hurt them first. And if some ruffian from school grounds wanted to pick a fight with the weak, he could always feel justified hurting them back.
Shiemi, though…
The pressure of yearning and desperation pushes against his eyes and clogs his throat in a palling clump. He scrubs his face with a little more vehemence than necessary, earning him a weird look from his partner.
Shiemi has never wanted to hurt him. She's always been soft and understanding. She's never derided him for trying to push her away—though because of that, he notes she tends to lament her own weakness instead of his stubbornness and that's something he might have to bring up in conversation. Maybe. Not right now, though. They're on a… on a… date.
"Rin?" Shiemi's high voice floats into the air. "Are you okay?"
It still doesn't feel real. They singled out a little cat café—quaint with potted plants hanging from the ceiling. Rin watches in slight amusement as a calico makes a swipe at a batch of bright orange flowers, their petals shaped like exploding stars.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just a little tired."
He presses for a soft smile, unaware that the dark circles underneath his eyes do a little too well in convincing her of that.
"You should go home and sleep!" Shiemi bursts out suddenly. "Drinking coffee when you're tired isn't good for you!"
"But I didn't order coffee…"
"You need your rest," Shiemi continues, ignoring the fact that Rin slept twenty-seven hours and ate enough to feed three Lord Hachirotaro's after he kicked Satan's ass. He's only tired out of a habit more than anything but his partner doesn't seem to care. "It's not good for you to be awake for so long!"
There's a beat of silence, half of the café patrons do their best to pretend they can't hear them arguing over the most arbitrary thing. Then, a chuckle escapes through Rin's chest without his permission. It starts slowly but rapidly gains volume until it snowballs down into a volley of raucous cackling that sounds a bit like a chinchilla having a screaming match with a parrot.
"You're really that worried about me?" Rin asks between breaths, fully expecting for her cheek to puff up and give her the disposition of a chubby chipmunk.
"Take your health seriously!" Shiemi nearly shrieks. "How dare you? Not taking the necessary precautions for your body-"
"Excuse me?"
Rin and Shiemi turn at the new voice, instantly falling silent. A sweet-seeming server stands at their table, prim and proper as she balances a tray with two drinks in her hand. The façade of customer service she puts up has a couple of chinks in them.
"Your drinks?"
"Yes!" Rin and Shiemi pipe at the same time, twin red blushes spreading out across their faces as they realize they've drawn more than just a bit of attention. The woman makes no motion to scold them, however, and instead provides Rin with his brown sugar boba tea and Shiemi with her hot matcha, then daintily glides away. Rin and Shiemi's gazes slide to meet each other, their drinks raised halfway to their lips. Rin manages to take a sip before he chokes on a wave of giggling and both he and Shiemi start anew.
Snapdragon
Graciousness, strength
The rest of the month crawls on—the world gradually accepts the presence of demons, the Vatican cracks down on the corners of the world most prone to demonic activity, and Mephisto remains as tone-deaf as ever. He congratulates the exwires on their graduation into fully-fledged exorcists, throwing around far too much confetti and streamers than a room could possibly hold, then proceeds to kill the mood by reminding them that True Cross Academy will proceed with the school year on time.
Suffice to say, once Rin is done with finals, he's going to hurl a glass bottle at Mephisto's head.
That is if Shiemi doesn't give him a concussion first. For all that Rin bitches about the Grigori and the occasional nutcase that stops by to give him a hard time about Satan, he reluctantly admits that Shiemi's training has done her some good.
It starts with them harassing Yukio, who runs on spite and canned coffee anyway, over not getting enough sleep because he's a headcase worse than any of them. After two minutes, he decides he's had enough, turns the tables on them not studying for all the upcoming tests, and shoos them out of the dorm before anyone gets any bright ideas about flaming swords, anti-demon firearms, or demon king summons. Shiemi soon offers her place to study, figuring they can continue with Yukio after they've finished their advanced kanji guide. They diligently look over the assignments for about approximately two-point-three-seven seconds when Rin drops studying in favor of goading Shiemi into a sparring match.
In hindsight, it probably wasn't among Rin's brighter ideas. But he also hasn't heard Shiemi's jubilant shouting and enthusiasm in about two hours and studying takes all the energy out of him. So, sparring it is.
Shiemi is nimble on her feet, even more so with her quick and precise jabs. Shura put countless hours into force-teaching Rin blocking techniques and his reflexes have since skyrocketed in speed. Combined, those two make for a strange, choppy dance that involves Shiemi darting circles around Rin searching for an opening.
She aims twice for Rin's head. One blow lands, the second is seized midway by his fingers locking around her wrist.
"You're in for it now!" Rin exclaims.
Shiemi merely offers an eager simper in return. "Am I?"
Rin has less than a flash to prepare. His arms twist, the ground falls away from underneath his feet, and the world blurs around him, spinning like a record player. His face slams right down into the ground. Shiemi doesn't give him a chance to recover. She climbs over him, his hands trapped in her grip as she pins them above his head.
"Ha! Take that!"
All the breath in Rin's lungs evaporates as he takes her in. The sun soaks her skin in a radiant glow and washes over her wild, golden hair where several spears of flowers—all orange and pink and purple—form a halo on top of her head. Her perfect smile shines down on his breathless form like a goddess granting their most loyal follower a boon of the greatest fortune.
Shiemi then forgoes standing and flops down on the ground next to him, her fingers lacing through his. A single breath moves through her, carrying her chest up and down. She kisses the tips of her first two fingers and places them gently against Rin's lips.
"I love you."
The words flow through Rin, warm and comforting, a balm on his weary soul. Hilariously, and fabulously enough, the only thought running through his short-circuiting brain as Shiemi snuggles up to him is: "such girlfriend much pretty."
Coherent thought does not exist here, clearly. But to be fair, he's been short-circuiting since he first met her.