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(pink carnations, blue freesias, white lilies)
Kazuha knows his customers pretty well, so whenever unfamiliar people walk into his shop, he naturally assumes they are visitors or new to town. There is nothing different about this man—he seems unfriendlier than most, lips pressed in a displeased slant and gaze focused on the screen of his phone—until he hands him a printout of Ajax Tartaglia’s online order.
"I'm picking up for him," he explains. Kazuha stares down at the slightly crumpled paper in his hands, confirming that it is indeed what he emailed Ajax Tartaglia last night, and nods.
"I'll be right back."
He prepared his bouquet just half an hour earlier, a pretty combination of blue freesias, pink carnations and white lilies wreathed in bright cream-colored ribbons. He wanted something to brighten the hospital room of his wife whose about to give birth, and to welcome their twin baby boy and girl in advance. Kazuha expected him to come himself, not send a surly acquaintance, but he supposes the man waiting by the counter will do.
He carries the bouquet back out, clearing his throat when he doesn't notice his presence. The man finally looks at Kazuha, and for a second their eyes meet. His widen a fraction before he stares down at his phone again.
"Thanks," he says, or at least he assumes that's what he says. The syllable is too quiet for Kazuha’s ears to pick up. Then he seems to realize that Kazuha is waiting for him to take the bouquet, and with another uttered word (this one sounds less pleasant) he reaches over the counter and accepts the bundle of flowers, taking care to avoid Kazuha’s hands.
Kazuha watches him leave the shop, wondering why he's never seen him before and if he'll be back.
(yellow chrysanthemums, purple asters, sunflowers)
He does return—the next day, actually. Kazuha is sorting coins in the cash register when the bell above the door tinkles and Ajax Tartaglia's friend from yesterday walks in.
"Hi, can I help you?" He's meeting Kazuha’s gaze this time, he notes. At least for the moment—he looks away again, his eyes flickering to the floor. Shy, perhaps.
"I'm… looking for something for my sister," he says. "She just graduated uni." The florist must look confused—it's only April—because he corrects himself. "I mean, she's going to graduate."
He has a nice voice; it was hard to tell yesterday when he barely spoke at all. Kazuha beams, happy that his first visit to his flower shop prompted a second.
"Sure, do you want suggestions?"
"Uh… okay."
Kazuha launches into a quick overview of popular congratulations bouquets, mentioning the various occasions people usually purchase them for. He speaks for half a minute before noticing the puzzled crease in the man’s brow.
"… You haven't heard of most of these flowers, have you?" When he shakes his head, Kazuha bites his lower lip to contain a smirk. "Would you like me to pick for you?"
"Yeah."
He ends up with an arrangement of brightly-colored flowers set around a smiley face balloon, a card tied to the bouquet with a note in it. "Congratulations –Kunikuzushi" it reads in his messy scrawl.
"That's it?" he can't help asking as he plucks his credit card from the man’s fingers to swipe. His last name is Raiden; his card expires in two years and three months. "I mean, I can get you a 'congratulations' balloon if you want and you can write a different note."
"She won't care," he says. He leans forward and gives the flowers in his arms an experimental sniff, and it suddenly occurs to him that buying flowers a month in advance makes no sense.
Kazuha once again watches him go, wondering how old he is and if the bouquet really is for his sister.
(violet gladiolus & blue hydrangeas)
There's something curious that always seems to happen: Kazuha can go through his entire life without hearing about something, and then all of a sudden it is everywhere. One day last year Heizou mentioned Luke Skywalker to him in a conversation, and by the next week he heard the same name repeated four times by various people.
Which is why he isn't really too surprised when the next day, shortly after lunch, the door to the shop opens and Raiden Kunikuzushi walks in.
"Hello." As the saying goes, third time's the charm—if customers buy something from him more than twice in a short span of time, he can start to consider them regulars, and he's always chattier with the regulars. "How are you?"
He blinks at Kazuha as if not registering his words, then straightens. "I'm good…?"
The way he trails off makes Kazuha think he must want his name. "You know it," he says. At his blank stare, Kazuha prompts, "The name of the shop?"
His mouth opens, then closes. "You're Kazuha?"
"Yes. I started this shop myself five years ago." Kazuha props his hands on his hips and smiles at the memory—it was a lot of hard work, but completely worth it. "It took a while, but now I've really gotten into the business. You can order online, you know, and have bouquets and gift baskets delivered. You don't always have to come in."
The man shrugs and slides his hands into his pockets, pulling out a sheet of paper and unfolding it. His fingers are slim, knuckles slightly bruised, his motions quick and precise. Kazuha shakes his head when he catches himself staring.
The paper is just a product page from his website, printed in black and white: condolences it reads across the top. It's one of the get-well-soon bouquets, clusters of hydrangeas adorning stalks of gladiolus.
Looking at it, Kazuha realizes if he was browsing his website then he totally could have just ordered from it too. "You know, if you live nearby we deliver for free."
Kazuha watches red creep up his neck as he nods, and he can't help wondering if he already knew that but decided to visit anyway.
(red lisianthus, orange hyacinths, alstroemeria)
None of his customers have come more than three days in a row, so Kuni (as he's taken to calling him in his head–he thinks it’s pretty cute–though he hasn't formally introduced himself) breaks the record by walking in just before Kazuha’s about to go on lunch break the next day.
"Can I see a catalog?" is the first thing he says. He's not that great with starting and ending conversations, Kazuha noticed, but he doesn't really mind—it's interesting. He finds Kunikuzushi interesting, even though he always seems a bit fidgety and unwilling to smile back at Kazuha.
"Sure thing."
Kazuha hands him one and he leans against the counter, flipping through it idly. Kazuha checks his computer for orders later that day and thinks he ought to start preparing one as he waits for Kunikuzushi to make a decision, maybe trim the stems on a few flowers some customers—another new one included—will be picking up later, but he finds himself studying Kunikuzushi instead. He looks stern at first glance, but he's actually very good-looking: his features are quite symmetrical, his eyebrows fine, his lips full, his purple hair shiny, and his nose—it isn't fair; such a nose is wasted on a man.
He's staring again. Kazuha tears his gaze away and turns back to his flowers.
A minute ticks by, then two, then five. Before Kazuha can start to wonder if he's just going to stand there all day, his stomach rumbles quite audibly. Most people would pretend not to hear, but not him, apparently. "There's a sandwich place that just opened down the street," Kunikuzushi says. "If you want…" He pauses, as if realizing his faux pas in acknowledging it, but continues anyway. "… you could go there for lunch," he finishes.
"Thank you," Kazuha says, trying to sound casual. He can feel himself start to blush anyway and he silently curses for being stupid. He’s usually not so easily embarrassed.
Kunikuzushi clears his throat. "Um… I'll take this friendship bouquet thing."
Kazuha watches him pay, signing the receipt with a quick fluorish of the pen, and he wonders if he was about to say something else and if he likes sandwiches.
(cyclamens)
When Kunikuzushi enters his shop for the sixth consecutive day, Kazuha has to ask.
"Do you actually need all these flowers?"
That makes him stop in his tracks. Kazuha wishes he could take the words back, but at the same time he really wants to know. He tries to give him a reassuring smile, and it could be his imagination but Kunikuzushi’s indigo eyes seem to soften a tad.
"Not really?" He makes his answer sound like a question.
"So you're here because…?"
He somehow manages to look both irritated and embarrassed. He mutters something under his breath that Kazuha can't quite make out, but it could be "you know why."
The florist props his elbows on the counter, unable to hide a grin. "Enlighten me."
He does not respond right away, scratching the back of his neck and staring at the floor like he wants it to open up and swallow him whole. Kazuha gives him time, fiddling with the decorations on display and tapping his fingers against the cash register, but he keeps his eyes on Kunikuzushi and in the end he mutters under his breath, "Oh, what the hell."
Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he pulls out a single pinkish-purple flower. "I'm shit at this so… here."
The way he hands it to Kazuha reminds him of a little boy handing a Valentine's card to a girl he likes. He takes the flower gently, grin blossoming when their fingers brush and he gives a start.
"I know your name, but you've never introduced yourself."
"I'm Kunikuzushi," he says quickly.
"Kunikuzushi," he says.
"Yeah?"
"This is a lovely flower and if it's your way of asking me out, I totally accept, but just for future reference, cyclamens usually symbolize departure—something you'd give a friend who's moving away or retiring. Or something you'd bring to a funeral."
He almost feels bad for saying it, but Kunikuzushi’s expression is too hilarious for him to regret it—like he wants to kill someone and melt into the floor all at once. "Someone else ordered for me because I don't know anything about this stuff," he explains, his voice calm though his cheeks are nearly the same color as the flower he is holding.
Kazuha inspects the flower more closely and this time he has to press a hand to his mouth to hold in a chuckle. "Kunikuzushi?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you… buy me a flower from my own shop?"