Chapter Text
Before white lilies are displayed, florists often remove the pollen bearing anthers. Their golden pollen stains clothing, skin, and tablecloths with surprising ease, and once it does, it's remarkably difficult to remove.
The bell above the shop door gave its familiar little chime as Atsushi unlocked it. It was a small sound, almost swallowed by the quiet of the street, but it was enough to make the flower shop feel awake.
Outside, dawn had only just begun to wash the neighborhood in pale gold. The bakery across the road was still dark, its shutters closed tight, while the café on the corner had only one employee dragging chairs onto the pavement with sleepy determination. Somewhere further down the street, a delivery truck rumbled past before fading into the distance.
Morning always arrived gently here. Atsushi liked that. Suppressing a yawn, he flicked on the lights. The shop brightened all at once.
Buckets lined the walls, waiting to be filled with fresh flowers from the cooler in the back. Empty glass vases caught the warm light, scattering little reflections across the wooden floor. The air smelled faintly of damp leaves and yesterday's roses, mixed with something earthy that always lingered after deliveries.
He slipped off his backpack and hung it behind the counter before rolling up the sleeves of his oversized hoodie. "Let's see what we've got today."
The delivery had arrived late the previous evening, packed into long cardboard boxes nestled with damp paper. Opening them always felt a little like unwrapping presents.
The first box had eucalyptus. The silver-green leaves released their cool, clean scent almost immediately. Atsushi carried the bunches over to a clean bucket already filled with fresh water.
Before any flowers went on display, they needed trimming.
Taking his floral shears from the counter, Atsushi cut each stem at a fortyfive degree angle before placing it into the bucket. Fresh cuts helped flowers drink water more efficiently. Straight cuts sat flat against the bottom of a vase and could make it harder for stems to absorb enough water.
He'd explained that to customers more times than he could count.
Some listened. Some nodded politely before asking if pink roses came in blue. Atsushi had learned not to question these things anymore. Another box held snapdragons, and another held white lilies.
He carefully lifted one stem free. The petals hadn't opened yet. Perfect. Lilies lasted longer when they arrived in bud, opening gradually over the next several days.
He reached for the tiny scissors kept specifically for them.
One by one, he snipped away the dark orange anthers from the center of each bloom. "If I leave you like this," he murmured to himself, "someone's going to brush against you and ruin a perfectly nice shirt."
The flowers, unsurprisingly, offered no opinion. Atsushi continued anyway. "I know. It's terribly unfair."
The bell over the front door jingled.
He looked up and an elderly woman peeked inside. "Oh dear," she laughed. "Am I too early again?"
Mrs. Tanaka. She always came by every monday morning.
"Nope!" Atsushi called. "You're right on time."
"I've been told I'm retired now."
"I've heard rumors."
"And yet I still wake up before the sun."
"I dont doubt it."
She laughed warmly as she wandered between the empty display buckets. "I'm visiting my sister today."
"The nursing home?"
She nodded. "Something cheerful."
Atsushi considered the cooler. "Give me a minute."
He disappeared into the back before returning with yellow tulips and white waxflowers. Mrs. Tanaka tilted her head. "No roses today?"
"You bought roses last week."
"And?"
"So this week I thought something brighter."
He arranged them as he spoke, trimming stems with practiced movements. "Tulips keep growing after they're cut."
"They do?"
He nodded. "Not by much. But if you arrange them today, tomorrow they might be leaning in a completely different direction."
"Flowers are funny creatures."
"They really are."
Mrs. Tanaka smiled as she accepted the bouquet. "I trust your judgment."
"You always do."
"Because you've never been wrong."
Atsushi ducked his head, embarrassed.
She paid, wished him a lovely morning, and disappeared back onto the quiet street.
For a while, everything settled into its usual rhythm, repetitive enough that his hands always knew what to do before his brain caught up.
Around seven thirty o clock, the neighborhood began waking properly.
The bakery unlocked its doors. The café filled with the smell of coffee drifting through the open windows. And cyclists rolled past. Parents hurried children towards the school a few meters away, and Atsushi carried the first bucket outside.
The display always sat beneath the shop's striped awning, where passersby could admire the flowers before stepping inside.
He balanced one bucket against his hip while nudging the door open with his shoulder. "Okay..."
One more trip. The bucket of white lilies was heavier than he'd expected. Water sloshed dangerously close to the rim. "I really should've made two trips."
He adjusted his grip. At precisely the same moment, someone rounded the corner. Atsushi looked up
“Oh" He came to a sudden stop and the bucket lurched.
Cold water surged over the edge. For one terrifying moment, he watched several lilys begin sliding sideways. "No, no, no"
A hand caught the rim before the bucket could tip completely.
Everything froze. Water dripped onto the pavement. The lilies wobbled once. Then they settled.
Atsushi stared. The stranger's hand remained on the bucket only long enough to steady it. Once he was certain it wouldn't fall, he let go.
"Im so sorry!" Atsushi blurted out, shifting the bucket back against his hip. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
The man regarded him for a second.
He wore a long black coat despite the mild weather, the collar sitting neatly around his neck. Dark hair framed a pale face that looked perpetually tired, though not in the way of someone who'd simply missed a night's sleep. More like someone who'd made exhaustion part of their routine.
His expression didn't change. "You're carrying too much."
Atsushi blinked. "Your probably right."
"You nearly dropped it."
"I usually don't."
A pause. "You nearly did."
"...Fair enough."
Silence settled between them. Atsushi realized he was still clutching the bucket awkwardly. "Oh, thank you, by the way."
The stranger gave a small nod. Then, without another word, he continued down the street. His footsteps were quiet against the pavement and within seconds, he disappeared around the next corner.
Atsushi watched him go. "Well."
He looked down at the lilies. Not a single stem had broken. "You could've atleast stayed long enough for me to say thank you properly. They're about as talkative as you were." He sighed dramatically. "why am i complaining to flowers."
A breeze stirred the lilies, carrying their faint fragrance through the morning air.
Atsushi smiled despite himself. “..Still." He glanced toward the corner where the stranger had vanished. "I hope he has a good day."
Then he turned back to his display, completely unaware that tomorrow morning, at almost exactly the same time, he'd find himself looking up from a bucket of flowers just in time to see the same man walking past the shop again.