Work Text:
Yukina had received the seeds from Kurama as a gift, so she planted them with care in a handful of pots provided by Shizuru.
Each day, she waters and watches, waiting for the first glimpse of green sprouts. And when they emerge, she marvels at how tiny they are. Her small garden is so different from the icy landscape she was raised in, a monotone white stretched in all directions, stifling anything that wanted to grow.
Here, she can stick her hands in the dirt and feel its warmth.
Yukina delights in seeing green stems grow taller and new leaves unfurl. Each day is another step closer to a bloom. When Yusuke and Keiko visit, she proudly shows off the plants’ progress, and they are proud to see her hard work pay off.
But not every day is a success.
Weather creates chaotic conditions. Wind batters their small frames and downpours threaten to drown them. Sometimes the plants will begin to wilt or she'll discover little puncture holes in the leaves, as if insects had a feast the night before.
On these days, she worries that maybe she'll never get to see the flowers. But encouragement from Botan and Kazuma (and some practical advice from Kurama) gets her back on track.
And then finally, after what feels like an eternity of waiting, she wakes up to find a rainbow of color in her garden. Oranges, pinks, reds, purples, and more. Every petal is bright and dazzling. She gently touches each one, appreciating its mix of frailty and the stubborn willingness to exist.
Hiei is watching from a nearby tree that day, and she beckons him to come closer. He frowns at being caught, but drops down by her side. They sit in silence, but Yukina is content.
The flowers persist.