Chapter Text
Wolfwood turns a corner and comes face to face with a very narrow alley. He glances at the piece of paper in his hand and sighs. It’s difficult to fit through, he knocks into the metal grate covering a window and barely steps over a heap of trash. When he makes it to the other side he sees an open door. He trudges over, brushing the dirt and dust off of his arms along the way.
He doesn’t knock. Wolfwood squeezes in, standing in the foyer and looking around. It resembles a living room more than a shop, with stacks of books and trinkets, stray clothes hanging on hooks, and picture frames tucked along window sills. There is a large, wooden table in the middle with chairs, and what appears to be a kitchen on the far end of the space.
What catches Wolfwood’s eye is the wall of flowers in the back: jars and pots of all sizes lined floating shelves, housing more flowers than he’s ever seen in one place. They’re bathed in sunlight, the normally harsh rays filtered by a colored panel of glass on the wall.
It’s strange, seeing this much flora in a city as industrious as July.
“Hello!”
Wolfwood nearly chokes. He brings his hands up out of reflex, ready to fight, only to see a lanky man step into view.
“I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I-I’m fine,” Wolfwood mutters. He falls back into a slouch, but keeps on guard. The man looks him up and down, his gaze lingering on Wolfwood’s clenched fist. “Are you the Seer?”
He blinks, taken aback. “Sorry, the what?”
Wolfwood grits his teeth. “You… find people, right?”
“Oh! Well, I guess I do that,” he replies. “I’m also a florist!” He motions broadly to the flowers behind him, as if to prove it.
He’s certainly dressed more like a florist than a “seer”. Wolfwood had an image of dark cloaks or ominous turns of phrase. But he looks fairly ordinary, with a simple black shirt and pants, and a red apron dusted with soil.
A loud, insistent part of Wolfwood tells him to leave and cut his losses, that this man won’t be able to help. But a quieter, more tired part convinces him to say:
“I’m looking for my brother. Can you find him?”
The man’s eyes soften and he walks over to the table between them. “I might be able to. Please, sit.”
Wolfwood meets him in the middle, pulling out a chair. “I don’t have a lot of money.”
“We can discuss payment after, if I can even find him.” He scoots the chair in and rests his elbows on the table. “Do you have anything that belongs to your brother?”
He does. Without prompting, Wolfwood takes out a worn, metal lighter from his jacket pocket. It was originally Wolfwood’s, he’d won it off of someone in a game of cards, but loaned it to his brother years ago. Just before they went their separate ways, his brother snuck it into Wolfwood’s bag. He wants to return it to him - to Livio.
The man watches as Wolfwood drifts, getting caught up in a memory. He clears his throat to get his attention.
“I’ll need to hold your hand, along with the item. Is that alright?”
Wolfwood glances at him. This florist is difficult to read, with his laid-back attitude and cozy room of flowers and ridiculously round glasses. But he’s so tired. And he’s been looking for so long. Wolfwood extends his hand, along with the lighter, and the man gently places both of his hands over top.
“Thank you.”
The man closes his eyes, and it’s so subtle Wolfwood almost misses it. Thin, white lines gently extend across his skin, from the corner of his eyes to his temples, and arching the apple of his cheeks. There’s a faint glow to them, and if Wolfwood squints, he can almost make out a pulse of energy flowing through. They fade just as quickly as they appeared, and the man opens his eyes, smiling.
“I know where your brother is.”
Wolfwood inhales sharply. He pulls his hand away, turns, and rummages through his bag until he takes out a frayed map.
“W-Where?”
The man unfolds the paper carefully as Wolfwood produces a pen. There are dozens of scribbles on it already, circles with strikes through them, cities crossed out with frustrated ink. He runs his gloved finger from their current location out into the middle of nowhere, coming to a stop in a barren square of the map. He takes the pen from Wolfwood and draws a small ‘X’.
“Here,” he says, turning the map around and sliding it over.
Wolfwood stares. There’s… nothing there. No city, no meaningful landmark. He glances up and the man offers the same smile.
“He’s there, I promise.”
Wolfwood sighs, it’s not like he has a better lead. He’s been methodically going from city to city, across the country, and hasn’t seen a sign of Livio so far. If he’s desperate enough to chase a rumor he heard at a bar, about a “Seer” who could find anyone, it’s not too much of an ask to travel to a seemingly random location on a map. At least this guy proved he had an ability, that something otherworldly coursed through his skin.
“I said I don’t have a lot of money,” Wolfwood repeats. “But if you need something done, I could do that as payment. Retrieving things, punishing someone who’s wronged you–”
“Oh my gosh!” he exclaims. “No, I don’t need anything like that,” he says frantically, waving his hands. “Um, but maybe you can bring me back something? If you happen to see it.”
He gently drags the map back and circles an area near the ‘X’ he’d drawn.
“I heard that there’s a rare flower that grows around here. If you could find it and bring me one or two - carefully! - I’ll take that as payment.”
The man says he doesn’t know what the flower is called, but he draws the shape of it on the corner of Wolfwood’s map. It has five petals, and he says it’s predominantly white, with blue pigment on the inside.
Wolfwood watches as he finishes his drawing. “I may not return if I find my brother,” he says honestly. No matter how grateful he is for the help, he wants to be upfront. “I can give you some money–”
The man shakes his head. “If you come back to July, I’ll accept the flower as payment.” His eyes flicker again to Wolfwood’s hand, and he clutches the lighter in his grip out of reflex.
“I wish you safe travels, sir.”
At that, Wolfwood coughs. He’s never been one for formalities. “It’s uh, Wolfwood.”
“Wolfwood,” he repeats softly. “I’m Vash.”
He holds out his hand, delighted when Wolfwood takes it, shaking lightly.
“Travel safely, Wolfwood.”
—
Vash tiptoes, rotating a potted plant on his highest shelf. “I’m sorry Tonis, but you’ll have to try catching that bug on your own,” he says. “My ability doesn’t work that way.”
Tonis, a young boy barely coming up to Vash’s hip, frowns. “But mama said you find things!”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” he says with a laugh.
Tonis plunks himself onto the chair, a bug net and a spare cage resting on the table. Vash continues moving and watering his flowers, pretending to ignore the boy’s grumbling.
“Tonis?”
He sits up. “Mama!”
An older woman wanders into the main room, hands on her hips. “What have I told you about bothering Vash?”
“It’s ok Rosa, we’re just talking.”
She sighs. “Well, it’s time for dinner. C’mon, let’s go upstairs.” Rosa waits as Tonis slides off of the chair and gathers his things. She glances at Vash.
“Have you eaten today? You’re welcome to join us.”
Vash smiles. “Thank you, but I’m alright. I’ve still got a lot to do.”
Tonis runs up to him, bumping against his thigh. “Can I come over tomorrow?”
“Tonis,” Rosa warns.
Vash pats his head. “Of course! You can visit me whenever you like. But I still won’t help you find that bug.”
Rosa quickly steers her son through a connecting door, bidding Vash goodnight. Vash laughs, listening as they make their way up to the main house. Once it’s quiet he returns to his flowers. He sits the watering can in the sink and waits for it to fill.
And then Vash hears the sound of the front door swinging. People don’t normally stop by at this hour.
“Be right there!” he shouts. He turns off the faucet and grabs a dish towel to dry his hands. Vash walks back into the main room and lights up.
“Wolfwood!”
Wolfwood stands awkwardly by the door, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He manages a wave, muttering a greeting in return.
Vash motions him to the table. “It’s been a while. How are you?”
“...Good. Tired.” Wolfwood takes a seat at the table and Vash does the same. “That area on the map? It’s now a small town. Hasn’t been there for too long, but I found him. My brother.”
Vash smiles. “I’m glad. Is he doing well?”
Wolfwood nods. “He’s helping build the place up. He tried writing to me, but I’d moved around so much the letters never reached me.”
“I see,” he says. “Why didn’t you stay with him? You’ve only been gone for a month or so.”
“It’s not my place,” Wolfwood says. “Livio, my brother, he has a purpose there. Knows the people and wants to support the community. I just wanted to make sure he’s ok.”
Vash folds his hands on the table. “Then, where will you go now?”
Wolfwood glances around. “Might stay in July for a bit. There’s plenty of odd jobs to do. I can always send money to Livio now that I know where he is.” He clicks his tongue. “Speaking of money…”
Wolfwood fishes in his bag and then pulls out a small jar, placing it on the table carefully. Inside is a white flower, with bits of blue along its petals, and bright yellow stamens.
“Payment,” Wolfwood says simply. “Are we even?”
Vash’s expression softens. He lifts the jar, nodding. There’s some dirt at the bottom, enough to support the stem and perhaps some roots. From the flecks of water along the walls, it looks like Wolfwood took care of it along the way.
“Thank you, Wolfwood.”
He gets up and heads to the back, opening the jar and getting ready to create a permanent home for it. Wolfwood ambles over, running his hand along the countertop. His eyes go to the wall of flora, from one flower to the next, to the vines climbing up the ceiling all the way to the large-leaf plant potted under the sink.
Wolfwood watches as Vash picks out a slightly larger container, turning it this way and that to figure out if it’s the right one.
“Why do you grow them?” Wolfwood asks.
Vash hums. “I’ve always liked flowers. They’re beautiful, don’t you think?”
“You have just as many flowers now as you did when I first came in.” It’s a guess, but Wolfwood goes with his gut. “Why put so much effort into something no one buys?”
“It’s not just about selling them,” he says. “I place them around the city, too. It brightens up the place.”
Vash repots the flower, gently packing fresh soil around the stem. He wipes the excess on the apron he’s wearing, then reaches for his watering can.
“When I water the plants in the city, sometimes I see people admiring them. July is bustling, but it’s very… sterile. Everyone deserves to see something beautiful in their day.”
Wolfwood glances at the flower he brought. It is pretty, but it didn’t make him feel anything. His eyes drift to the watering can, to Vash’s slim hands, and up further to the warm smile on his lips.
Vash looks at him, and Wolfwood looks away.
“Well… I guess it keeps you busy.”
Vash laughs. “Yes, it does!” He puts the watering can down, then picks up his new flower. He mumbles a quick, ‘Excuse me!’ to Wolfwood, shuffling to a rare empty space along the counter. The container barely fits, but already looks comfortable in its new home.
Once Vash is satisfied, he turns to Wolfwood.
“If you’re staying in July, maybe we’ll see each other now and then.”
“...I suppose.”
Vash smiles. “I hope you like it here. And, you’re welcome to visit anytime.”
Wolfwood shrugs. “I’ll keep that in mind, blondie.”
—
A couple weeks later, Wolfwood walks out of the store, slinging his bag of tools over his shoulder. July is never short on odd jobs. For how industrious it seems, there is a lack of people willing to do manual labor. Every other day Wolfwood finds work adjusting plumbing, running new wires, or repairing housing. He never thought learning how to do all of those things in the orphanage as a kid would pay off.
Today, he’s earned more than enough to justify a drink. He slips a cigarette between his lips and heads to Rosa’s bar; she usually fixes a plate for him if he’s charming enough.
“I’m really sorry, but I can’t help you.”
Wolfwood looks up.
“S-Stop! I’m serious.”
He pivots. Of all the people milling around, he doesn’t see anyone who needs help. Maybe it was coming from a radio?
“You have to find her. Please. You have to–”
“I can’t!”
Wolfwood hears it. He jogs off the main road and onto a side street. When he turns a corner, he sees Vash putting distance between himself and another man. The man grabs Vash.
“She needs me,” he insists. “I’ll pay you anything, but you have to tell me where she is!”
“I’m sorry, but you don’t have a bond with her. I can’t–”
“I do. I do! She loves me!”
Wolfwood steps in just as the guy throws a punch. It clips the bottom of his jaw and his teeth crash together, drawing blood. He ignores the pain, snatching the man’s arm and twisting it away.
“What the hell are you doing? Harassing a florist in the middle of the day?!”
The man struggles, taken aback by Wolfwood’s interference. He yanks out of Wolfwood’s grip, pointing at Vash accusingly.
“He knows where she is! My lover… he knows and he won’t tell me!”
Vash grimaces. “That’s not true.”
“It is. It is. You lot… you think having special powers makes you better than the rest of us? That you can lord your abilities over our heads?!” He inches toward them, ready to lunge, but Wolfwood blocks his way. He purposefully drops his tools to the ground, their loud clang startling the guy.
“You need to cool down,” he grits out. “And I’m not going to say it again.”
When Wolfwood takes a step forward, the man quickly backs up.
“Leave the florist alone. Fix your own damn problems.”
The man’s eyes dart between the two of them and he grumbles, realizing he’s at a disadvantage. He storms off, back to the main road, cursing them along the way.
Wolfwood waits until he’s out of sight, then spits out his cigarette, along with some blood. What a waste. He reaches up to touch his jaw and winces.
“Ah!” Vash hovers near him. “L-Let’s go back to my place. I can patch you up.”
Wolfwood bends over to pick up his bag, nodding at Vash to lead the way. Surprisingly, Vash takes a route similar to the one he would have to get to Rosa’s bar. It’s only when they reach their destination that Wolfwood realizes Vash lives in the same building. His front door is on the backside of the bar, near the emergency exit.
“You can put your bag down anywhere,” Vash says. “I’ll be right back.”
Wolfwood does as he’s told, leaving his tools in the foyer and locking the door for good measure. He takes a seat at the table as Vash dips out of sight, eventually coming around with a small medical kit. He pulls a chair up next to Wolfwood.
“Take off your jacket.”
“Blondie, I’m fine–”
“Take it off.”
Wolfwood sighs. He shrugs off his jacket and even turns so that Vash can get a clear view of his chin. But when Vash finally has a bottle of antiseptic ready to go, he looks at Wolfwood’s face in surprise.
“Oh, wait, was it the other side?” He gently cups Wolfwood’s cheek, maneuvering him as he pleased. His jaw is blemish free, save for a bit of dried blood, and a little stubble, which lightly pricked Vash’s fingers.
“Told you it’s fine,” Wolfwood says. “You’re not the only one with a fancy ability.”
“You have–? Oh… accelerated healing?”
Wolfwood shrugs, a soft blue gleam flitting across his eyes. “Something like that.”
Vash brightens, fascinated. “W-Wow! That’s so handy.” His fingers carefully skate across Wolfwood’s skin, rubbing where there should have been a cut or bruise. He’s never seen anything like that.
And then he flushes when he realizes he’s still touching Wolfwood’s face for no reason. Vash abruptly lets go, busying himself by stowing the medical kit.
“Um, in that case, do you want some water? Or tea? I can make you tea!”
“Tea?”
Vash hurries off to the kitchen. Wolfwood had said it more out of curiosity than desire, but he supposed tea would be fine. He couldn’t find it in him to tell Vash ‘no’ after he’d so valiantly tried to patch him up.
A few minutes later, Vash brings over two steaming mugs. He scoots his chair back to give Wolfwood space.
“Thanks,” Wolfwood says.
“I should be the one thanking you for stepping in.” Vash folds his hands in his lap. “I would have been fine if you hadn’t. That man,” He sighs. “He’s not the first one to demand I find someone.”
Wolfwood turns the mug in his hands. “How do you know when to help someone?” he asks. “You helped me, but you couldn’t help him.”
Vash’s expression dampens. “I can’t find just anyone,” he says. “My ability lets me see the close bonds someone has with others. They look like threads to me.” He holds up his hand, wiggling his pinky finger. “The bonds have to be reciprocal. That man… he’s been here before. He’s infatuated with a woman, but she doesn’t feel the same way. So, there’s no thread for me to see.”
Wolfwood glances at his own hand. Vash had seen a thread connecting him and Livio, so he told him where to go. It’s a useful ability. Cities around here are hundreds of miles apart, Wolfwood wouldn’t mind being able to pinpoint where his siblings were, just to know that they’re ok. July has a large population, plenty of potential clients, Vash could make a decent living doing this.
But Wolfwood only found Vash through a quiet rumor. It doesn’t seem like Vash advertises what he can do. He stays hidden in this back alley, growing flowers and freely placing them around the city for others to enjoy.
“Wolfwood?”
He snaps his head up.
“Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” he takes a sip of tea. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Wolfwood supposes it’s none of his business. He’s met plenty of people like him, people with abilities, who are hunted for their powers or persecuted for having them. Maybe Vash has been through something similar and wants to keep a low profile. He just saw an example of someone trying to take advantage of Vash today.
“How are you liking July? Living here I mean?”
Wolfwood goes along with him, changing the subject. “It’s fine. There’s plenty to do and I found a place with cheap rent.”
“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you more before today,” he says. “I spend a couple hours every morning watering the plants and don’t recall seeing you.”
Wolfwood hums. “You’ll never catch me around sunrise. I can’t be bothered to wake up that early.”
Vash laughs. He says he keeps a regular schedule for his flowers and that sleeping in would ruin it. Apparently, the best time to water is in the morning.
“You’ve been looking for me then?” Wolfwood asks.
“N-Not really.” Vash takes a big sip of tea. “I don’t know, it’s nice seeing a familiar face, I guess.”
Wolfwood sees Vash’s gaze dip down, sheepish. He grips his mug. Wolfwood doesn’t usually make friends, and even more rarely maintains friendships, but there’s no harm in being on good terms with someone like Vash. His ability is useful, and he knows a lot about July. Now that Wolfwood knows Vash lives almost literally in his favorite bar, it wouldn’t be much trouble to see him.
“Most of the jobs I find are in the city center – on the notice board. Not a day’s gone by where I haven’t been in the thick of it.” He picks up his cup, pointing to the back wall. “Think I’ve seen some big plants there, like the one under your sink.”
Vash turns to look. “Yeah! Those don’t need a lot of water, they’re very low maintenance. But you can get just about anywhere from the city center, so I’m there often.”
“I haven’t been able to find a decent lunch spot there. Got any recommendations?”
Vash smiles. “Sure, what do you like to eat?”
—
By nightfall, Wolfwood’s slipping his jacket on and picking up his bag of tools. He also has a list of food stalls that Vash suggests he try. Most sound too fancy for him, but he can spare a few double dollars to give them a shot.
“Sorry for keeping you so late,” Vash says. “I didn’t realize what time it was.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m a big boy, I can get home by myself.”
Vash laughs. “Thank you for today, Wolfwood. It was good seeing you.”
He offers a salute in return. “Until next time, blondie.”