Chapter Text
Kohane still remembered what An had said that day, although she didn’t remember when it had happened. The skies above could’ve been clear and brilliant for all she knew, alluding to the warmth of summer days long gone. Or, perhaps the skies had opted instead for offerings of cloud and clamor, bringing forth all of winter’s solemn harshness.
An insignificant detail? Sure—to some. Kohane found that for herself, the opposite was true. Not being able to remember certain facets of her memories was quite troubling, actually, as clinging desperately to them had been a mechanism she had developed while drifting aimlessly within the sea of her apparent indifference, and she had never been able to truly let it go.
Things were different now, though. Kohane had found a partner to call her own, and although she was still learning to find her steps in a new, fast-paced world dyed in vivid colour, she had someone to rely on now.
At last, a fabled purpose seemed to be within her reach.
For now, she would settle for ambiguity, as she couldn’t seem to extract any additional clarity from her memories. With slight difficulty, Kohane forced herself to move on to what really mattered—the talk she and her partner had had.
They had been sitting side by side in Crase Cafe, envelopped by the warming fumes of coffee and conversation. An had been mid-sentence, retelling an anecdote from her childhood. Her eyes had seemed to sparkle, and her face lit up as she did so, which Kohane had decided right then that she loved. She would eventually attempt to bring this life that rested so wonderfully upon An’s features back many times, with various levels of success.
“—she led me through and behind an alleyway, next, until we arrived at a massive, open field. Waaay different from anything else in Vivid Street. I didn’t even know it existed, but it’s no surprise that Nagi-san did, really…” An had trailed off, and Kohane had wished that she had been able to take her camera out and snap a picture of her smile, which bore the warmth of many reminiscences past.
In hindsight, it wasn’t really needed, as this, at least, remained firmly ingrained in Kohane’s mind.
“Anyways, maybe it was just because I was so young, but it was huuuge. Like, this big,” An had motioned with her hands, knocking lightly against the cup of mint tea that sat on the table before her. “Oops.” Thankfully, it didn’t fall or spill, and Meiko, who remained a calming presence in the back of the cafe as always, appeared unperturbed.
“And the best part wasn’t even the vastness of it all,” An had continued, voice rich with wonder. “The whole thing was occupied by the most beautiful sunflowers I’ve ever seen. Massive, towering stalks that reached up to touch the sky, and the most brilliant blossoms imaginable. They were all facing the sun, and yet they seemed warmer than even the sun itself.”
Then, Kohane had found herself smiling too.
“I remember getting lost and playing amongst them for hours, until the sun set, under Nagi-san’s watchful gaze. I was the child, of course, but while watching me, she seemed just as carefree as I was.” An had ended her story with the same expression that she had initially assumed.
“That sounds wonderful, An-chan,” Kohane had said, and she really had meant it. “Are the sunflowers still there?”
An had nodded. “Yeah! I doubt anyone here would want to cut them down, and I’m pretty sure that there are many residents here who don’t even know they exist.” She had had the air of confidence of someone who had lived her whole life amongst the very streets she spoke of, and it was times such as this where the manner in which An had been shaped by her environment was most evident. To have a community fueled by a singular passion, and to know its components so well to the point of being capable of identifying desire… Kohane had felt a pang of jealousy graze her chest, knowing that such a thing would have saved her years of aimless existence.
She had truly been nothing at all, back then.
An’s eyes had grounded her, forcing her into the present. Sometimes, they resembled stars, but right now, they were more akin to twin suns.
“We should go see them someday,” Kohane had proposed.
An had giggled. “I’d love to take you, Kohane. Maybe when Nagi-san returns from America, we can all go together. I still dream about those flowers… so beautiful.”
Kohane had nodded. “For sure.”
The memory ended there, on a note of promise and longing. Kohane found herself back in the present, sitting within her room, with the morning’s dappled sunlight streaming carefully through the windows and Count Pearl wrapped carefully around her arm. Count Pearl’s eye caught her own, briefly—a dark orb amidst a sea of pale scales. Although she obviously couldn’t understand, Kohane liked to think that the snake was listening.
As if in response, Count Pearl shifted slightly, brushing lightly against Kohane’s forearm. “Hmm? What is it?” It really did seem as if the snake was trying to tell her something, though she hadn’t the slightest idea as to what. She had already fed Count Pearl earlier, so hunger couldn’t be the issue…
“Ah!” Kohane was interrupted by a gentle nip to her skin, and she pulled away, slightly. Count Pearl turned to face her with beady eyes. “What’s up with you, today?” After hurriedly putting the snake back in her enclosure, she thankfully found that the wound appeared to be a dry bite, as her skin had not been punctured. It was evident that Count Pearl had meant her no harm, which made the whole situation even more perplexing.
Thankfully, though her father wasn’t home, Kohane knew that he kept first aid supplies nearby in case of emergencies. She often suspected that a lot of her anxious and overcompensating tendencies had come from him. After all, Kohane had always been someone incredibly shaped by the few people she held dear.
Now, those people included the residents of Vivid Street, but more than anything, An. Since gaining such a wonderful partner, Kohane had truly found her own voice, and gained the confidence to stand beside those whom she admired most.
When she looked back at her old self, Kohane sometimes found that she no longer recognized that Kohane at all. Shy, shaky, and indifferent, that Kohane would never have dared to find pleasure in the position this Kohane was in now. And yet her efforts could not completely be discounted, as she was the one who had stepped out of her old world, aimless yet familiar, and onto a new stage.
Sometimes, Kohane had to remind herself that she wasn’t alone anymore. Her partner’s presence was the most valuable part of this new world she found herself in by far, and not a day went by where Kohane was not warm inside and full of gratitude.
While tending to her arm, Kohane’s thoughts wandered back to Count Pearl’s unusual behaviour. This was a clear shift from her usual nature… perhaps the snake had been attempting to indicate that she needed to change, too? Though… change in what way? She wasn’t sure in the slightest. Her growth delighted her, but sometimes it felt as if change was all she did, and the unease it provoked on An’s face was hard to ignore.
Kohane’s thoughts were quickly drawn back to the previous memory. Her partner’s smile that had rested so perfectly upon her face continued to linger so strongly still within Kohane’s own mind… How she yearned to see that smile again.
Perhaps she could aim to bring it back, in some way. There was no reason that An’s smile had to remain confined to her memories, or the photographs she loved to take in order to conserve them. Why could she not draw them into the present, instead?
Kohane’s heart seemed to swell, threatening to burst from her very chest, as she assumed a new sense of resolve. Yes, she decided. She would find a way to prompt such a radiant smile from An once more, no matter how long such a thing would take.
As the idea of her partner became the sole focus of her world, melting effortlessly into the crevasses in her mind as it had done so many times prior, Kohane found her reminiscences to be the strongest yet. An had spoken of a love for flowers so intense that Kohane could not help but begin to love them too.
At the very least, they made her beloved An-chan happy, and even if she could not hope to understand them in the same way, she could understand the manner in which they made An smile like nothing else…
They did make her smile, Kohane realized, the full implications of her thoughts taking a moment to sink in. Surely, then, would bringing An's most cherished memories back to her not have the same effect?
An unforeseen urgency tugged at Kohane's heart, willing her forwards, and she spared only a fleeting glance back at Count Pearl's enclosure before heading down and into the warm sun.
The florist shop wasn't far.
It took Kohane longer to reach than it should have, though, despite being within walking distance from home. The issue lay in the fact that Kohane had never visited this florist shop before, and spent a few minutes searching before stumbling across a quaint and unassuming entrance. She had never had a reason to visit a shop like this, previously, though having a partner had changed that too.
A greeting from what Kohane assumed was the shop owner met her as she entered, and she nodded politely in response despite not being able to tell its source's exact whereabouts. Various floral notes met her nose all at once, and though the scent was lovely, Kohane couldn't help but begin to feel mildly overwhelmed.
It didn't help that the variety in selection was staggering, especially to someone as unknowledgeable as she was. Kohane had always admired them from a distance, but never to the same extent that An did. Her eyes jumped from blossom to blossom, varying greatly in colour, size, and shape, but never landed on any plant for longer than a few seconds.
Just as she was beginning to despair, Kohane felt a gentle tap from the shop owner upon her shoulder.
"Excuse me, miss, may I assist you?" It seemed that Kohane's panic was more obvious than she thought.
"Y-yes please," she conceded, with mild hesitation. The shop owner's voice was melodic, and despite being worn, it still carried a certain softness. Kohane turned to come face-to-face with an older woman—initially unremarkable, though with a very kind face.
"I haven't seen you around before," the woman observed, though not in an unfriendly manner. "What exactly are you looking for?"
A shadow of doubt fell over her features. "I'm not sure."
The woman laughed. "I suppose that's to be expected. Who are the flowers for, anyways?"
Kohane's cheeks flushed slightly. "They'll be for my… partner." The word rolled smoothly off her tongue, although she wasn't used to saying such a thing quite yet.
"How lovely." The woman was smiling as she spoke, now. "Are they for any special occaision in particular?"
Kohane shook her head. "Not really. It might be kind of silly, but… I really want to see her smile again."
The shopkeeper nodded, and Kohane could feel the same sense of overwhelm beginning to creep over her again. The woman's features appeared to blur slightly as she began to point out different flowers.
"We've got pink chrysanthemums here. These ones are really full, and in season, too. Very great for a gift."
"Mm." Though the blossom was certainly beautiful, Kohane wasn't sure about it. Somehow, it felt incredibly different from the sunflowers that An had described in her memory. Sure, Kohane hadn't actually seen them, but An was able to describe the warmth of their essence well enough, and this didn't feel that way. Kohane was confident that it couldn't possibly elicit the same brilliant smile that An had displayed on that day. "Maybe something else?" she squeaked, trying to keep her tone as soft as possible.
The shopkeeper had already moved on, sensing her indifference. "Perhaps some dahlias, then. We have orange, pink, all of these right here. Or maybe asters. They're quite nice, you see…"
Kohane's underlying dissatisfaction hadn't ceased. She didn't just want to get nice flowers for An, but something truly special. Something to represent her own blossoming admiration for her partner, and to overcome the inadequacy that ran so deep within herself. Though it often subsided, it had never completely gone away, and Kohane wasn't sure it ever would.
She brought the memory to the forefront of her mind once again, and sighed. "These aren't quite right either, I'm sorry. " What was she doing? An would surely appreciate anything she brought with a thanks and a grin, and though she knew it was completely irrational, Kohane still felt as if she was letting her partner down, in some way. Desperately, she asked: "Um, do you happen to have any sunflowers? I think something as radiant as possible would be fitting."
The shopkeeper frowned. "I fear not. This late in the year really isn't as ideal of a time for them as early summer, say." Though they were inside, she gestured with one arm as if to indicate the lack of warmth.
Kohane's stomach sank with disappointment. Oh. Her surroundings seemed to shift slightly, and not in a good way, like they did when she sang with An. "Th-that's alright," she said, knowing that whatever she bought wouldn't be the same. "How about those?" She pointed to her right, though she was hardly able to make out the form of the blossoms.
"White lillies, hmm? We don't usually have these this time of year, either, but I guess these ones were an exception. Very sweet, almost innocent, in a sense…"
Kohane nodded absently. "Those sound great, thank you." She tried not to show any signs of sadness on her face. This, at least, was something that she had always been better at than An.
Kohane hardly spoke as she completed her transaction, softly uttering her thanks once more as she left. She gasped as the cold outside air hit her like a slap to the face, and clutched the lillies in her arms as if they were a fickle desire at danger of being blown away in the breeze. Her world seemed to spin, changing just as it had when she had stepped into Vivid Street for the first time, and though it sang of love, it was clear that Kohane had not yet found her feet.
Kohane brought the flowers to Weekend Garage to give An after practice.
She had cared for them with the utmost tenderness over the course of a few days, checking almost obsessively to ensure that she was providing adequate light and water, and keeping them in the best possible condition.
At last, the day had come. Akito and Toya were practicing together for a while, wanting to work on their harmonies as a duo, leaving her and An alone. An bore a grin, exhausted, but content after a session of hard work.
"That was some good practice today, partner!" An beamed, radiant as ever. She lingered on the last word a little longer than the others, just enough to prompt a smile of Kohane's own. The idea of partnership was still novel to her, and she figured that she would always be learning knew things about what it meant to rely on someone and be relied upon, to work together while pushing each other to new heights, and to finally feel complete.
Though difficult at times, it was truly intimate in a way that rivaled naught else, and as she came face to face with the dazzling girl with stars in her hair, Kohane knew that there was no one else she would rather have by her side.
"I thought so too, An-chan," Kohane agreed. Her cheeks had begun to flush again, and the warmth was almost dizzying. "You sounded really nice today. I mean, well. You always do, but now especially. When we were singing that last song together, my heart was racing so fast. It still is." Eyes wide with wonder, she placed her hands gently over her heart, as if to cradle it.
An didn't hesitate for a second. "Kohaneeeee~!" The next thing she knew, An's arms were thrown around her shoulders, pulling Kohane into her partner's ready embrace.
"An-chan…" Kohane sunk perfectly into An's arms, and sighed. The weight of An's form against her own felt so right, and for a few moments, she was able to breathe as her surroundings stilled. "This feels nice," she murmured, to which An pulled her even closer.
Perhaps this too, was partnership. Allowing yourself to let go of any semblance of control, even for a mere moment, and to place your whole world in the hands of another. Allowing yourself to be seen in your entirety, stained by your myriad of flaws and failures, and to be accepted not despite it all, but because of it all.
Kohane wasn't sure how long they remained as they were, but when she finally dared to pull away, she found herself missing the fullness at her sides. An stood before her once more, gaping, and yet traces of warmth lingered upon her features all the same.
It wasn't enough. Kohane needed to see more. Perhaps she was more selfish than she had thought.
"An-chan?" she inquired. "I have something else for you."
"Oh?" An perked up instantly, eyes widening ever so slightly like they always did when she was interested. Kohane loved it. "A gift from Kohane? Hmm, I wonder what it'll be~" Her tone was playful, displaying clear intrigue, and Kohane was more hopeful than ever.
"Yeah! … One moment." Kohane darted out of the main area where their practice had been held, and into one of the spare rooms to the side, in which the café reserves were stored. In a moment, she had the lillies held behind her back (not as discreetly as she would've liked), and stepped out into the light.
She presented the bouquet to An with an awkward flourish. "For you." She felt heat begin to blossom in her cheeks.
An took the lillies in her arms, mouth agape. Steadily, her surprised expression was replaced with a smile that Kohane had so longingly pursued. Though it disappeared right after, it was there, for a little more than a fleeting moment—! And Kohane desperately grasped it, reaching for the smile as if it were a fragment of a star, distant but bright, to catalogue carefully within the atlas of her mind.
"So lovely…" An murmured, voice oddly subdued as she caressed one of the petals between fingertips.
"The flowers? I'm glad you like them, but to be honest, they weren't quite what I was—"
"They're very lovely!" An said, again, and Kohane found herself within An's embrace once more. "A lovely gift from my even lovelier partner." Her breath brushed against Kohane's ear, and she shivered.
"Then…" Kohane didn't dare say the following part aloud, but she wanted more. Needed more. Instead, she settled for: "I'm happy you're here with me right now, An-chan."
It wasn't a very good response, really. Though it was true, it didn't convey more than a sliver of what Kohane felt, and she assured herself that she would seek a bigger and sweeter smile once more.