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“Oda-senpai. I must ask for your assistance.” To convey the importance of this favor, Akutagawa performs dogeza before their mentor.
“Oh. What did you need?” Oda’s voice is serene as always.
“And get off the damn floor, brat,” Kunkikda adds.
Akutagawa lifts themself from the hard tiles of the Agency office floor and returns to their desk next to Oda. “I have purchased a multitude of flowers for a bouquet and require your input, as I am merely an amateur at deciphering hanakotoba.”
Akutagawa signals Kenji, who fetches a massive bouquet from his locket outside and places it on Akutagawa’s desk. Thanks to its size, it now takes up Oda’s as well, though the detective simply looks on with little care.
Naomi, who’s been watching on with Tanizaki, chirps up. “Oh, those are lovely! Where did you get them?”
“There was a sale at the local floral shop, as Kenji and I passed by earlier this morning.”
“I wonder who these are for…” Tanizaki smiles.
“I bet they’re for Atsushi-san, right?”
“Naturally. As her adversary, it is only proper to celebrate her ‘coming out,’ as it were called. And my extensive research yielded that flowers are an appropriate gift for most celebrations.” As someone who has also recently come to terms with their identity, it is imperative for Akutagawa to show proper support.
Naomi pokes Tanizaki’s side. “Aw, how romantic.”
Kenji chimes in from his own desk. “She’s really lucky to have a friend like you.”
Tanizaki sighs. “I doubt they’re friends, considering they tried to kill each other a few months ago.”
“Thank you, Tanizaki.” And they glare at Naomi and Kenji. “I do not appreciate your insensitive comments. She is still my nemesis.”
Oda clears his throat and everyone faces him. “Alright then, tell me what each flower means.”
The sharp snap of a pen interrupts them. “It’s just so funny that we’re all in the office and yet no one is working.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“No, it will not! Stop encouraging their bad habits!” He rubs his temple, then points at Akutagawa with his broken pen half. “You have 15 minutes for this ridiculous sidequest, then I want your paperwork done by noon, Lad.”
A shudder travels up Akutagawa’s spine at the mention of their most treacherous arch nemesis, but this endeavor is well worth the sacrifice. “Understood, Sir.”
“From my research, I chose standard flowers, such as daffodils to refer to how I respect the Tiger as a rival. The edelweiss symbolizes her courage and power, two traits I highly prize in a proper adversary. Then the hydrangea blossoms represent her pride and peonies for her bravery, something that both troubled me and earned my reverence. The yellow poppies mean success for her future endeavors, whether to stand a chance against me in our rematch or to further the discovery of her identity.”
The office is silent, coworkers clearly impressed with the well-thought-out bouquet. Akutagawa clicks their tongue, pleased with how each meaning imparts their exact feelings for their nemesis.
Oda hums, then points to a few flowers in the very center. “And what do these mean to you?”
“Ah, yes. I had them centered, as they represent the very core of my feelings toward the Tiger. Those are orange lilies, which symbolize hatred and revenge—”
“They’re tiger lilies.”
They stumble, taken aback. “Oda-senpai, the color is clearly orange. Though I did notice the amount of black spots, which I assume is due to their age…”
But he shakes his head. “The spotting is what makes them tiger lilies. They mean wealth.”
“Then the centerpiece of my feelings…my ironclad plan…”
“Also, I noticed you have these variegated tulips here. They mean beautiful eyes.”
The very life drains from Akutagawa. The lilies have failed and, even worse, these tulips they added on a whim (as they were offered for merely 100 yen each) compliment Nakajima’s eyes. Which are rather unusual, but certainly not unpleasant; though it is sheer folly to admit to your foe such a thing.
Someone laughs beside them, and a hand squeezes their shoulder. “Seems like this bouquet does represent your feelings, huh?” Yosano must have walked in during this humiliating exchange.
“Yosano-sensei,” Akutagawa’s voice is but a hoarse whisper. “Please do your worst on me.”
Both Kunikida and Tanizaki pale.
“Lad, think of what you’re saying!”
“I think you’re being too hasty!”
Yosano cackles, her grin stretching her face. “Your wish is my command, dear Akutagawa.” She then wheels them away on their office chair, as they resign themself to their fate.
Even after experiencing horrors beyond imagination, and conquering an enemy far greater than the Tiger (all before noon even!), Akutagawa is still at a crossroads. Their meeting with Nakajima is drawing near, and they cannot afford a replacement bouquet in time.
Kunikida leaves for a meeting with the police chief, so everyone in the office takes advantage to have an early lunch. Naomi sits across from Akutagawa in a front booth at Cafe Uzumaki, Tanizaki next to her and Kenji next to them.
“I think it represents exactly how you feel about her. Just admit it to yourself, you like her,” Naomi coos as she works on a strawberry parfait.
Like her? As in, a friendly way? “That simply cannot be, Naomi. The Tiger is my foe, my nemesis, my arch-rival.”
Tanizaki sighs, picking at his katsudon. “While I think it’s rushing things a bit to say you like the White Reaper, maybe your feelings are changing for her. You have been hanging out with her like every day.”
“For reconnaissance purposes.” They sip at their bowl of oshiruko. An order of zenzai would have been better, as they prefer it thicker.
“Alright then,” and Naomi’s eyes sparkle dangerously. “What kind of tea does she like?”
“Oolong, with four sugar cubes.”
“Favorite food.”
“Ochazuke, specifically with salmon, green tea, and pickled plums.”
“Favorite animal.”
“Chameleons, then tigers.”
“How does she spend her free time?”
“Reading fantasy novels or window shopping at Motomachi Shopping Street with Kyouka.”
“A place she always wanted to visit.”
“The Nekochan to Issho cat cafe during the summer and Ti Miao Temple in Chinatown for New Year’s.”
Tanizaki looks at them, eyes as wide as they have ever been. “I take it back. Akutagawa, you are down bad for her.”
They narrow their eyes. “I do not understand this ‘down bad’ as you call it—”
“Wow, you really do like her. My Ma said that Pa knew her that well too.”
They choke on their spit. “Your parents? As in a married couple—”
“And I’m sure Atsushi-san likes you back,” Kenji adds.
Nakajima likes them? Is that even possible? The hatred they shared for each other was mutual at the time of their battle on top of Port Mafia headquarters, especially once Akutagawa took Kyouka hostage. A cowardly act that, in retrospect, they deeply regret.
They think upon their previous meetings with her since then. That they even meet several times a week during lunch, without fail, in the first place.
How she felt secure enough not to wear her heavy coat two times in a row, despite it being a comfort to her for years.
The fact that, on that fateful day, she felt compelled to confess to them first about her gender. And her teary smile at their lack of judgement (of course they wouldn’t; gender is meaningless in the face of an arch-nemesis).
The pretty (pretty?) red color of the blush on her face when they called her a lady. The truly beauteous smile as she congratulated them on their own discovery.
The same smile she gave them at their first meeting.
“I…I must retrieve my bouquet,” before they head back to the office. Kenji offers to help carry it after moving out of their way, but Rashomon is more than able to handle the weight and size.
Oda is still at his desk, music playing on his laptop. Ah, he’s watching a livestream of Shinji’s piano competition.
“How is his performance?”
Shinji practiced for months in preparation, both themself and Oda pitching in when they could.
“He’s doing well. It’s a lovely piece.” He doesn’t look away from the screen, but the soft smile on his face speaks to his fatherly pride.
They both listen until the last notes taper off and the thunderous clapping of a standing ovation from the audience can be heard. Oda claps as well, despite it going unheard by his son, and Akutagawa bows their head at a job well done.
He finally faces Akutagawa. “Come for your flowers?”
“Yes. Also, I seemed to have come to a revelation.”
“Ah, about Nakajima-kun, right?”
“I…” They’re at a loss for words, but as always, their mentor picks up on everything.
“There’s no need to rush into anything. Just take your time, and enjoy her company.”
Akutagawa swallows, then bows deeply. “Thank you, Oda-senpai. I will do just that.”
When Nakajima arrives at the cafe at the proper lunch time, they’re already seated at the usual booth in the back.
“Oh, that’s a lot of flowers. Didn’t know you liked them.”
They gather their courage, understanding that this could be a turning point for them both. “They are for you.”
“For me? All these flowers…” There’s that blush again. And her ametrine eyes shine as bright as gems.
“Those variegated tulips mean beautiful eyes.”
Nakajima’s neck whips up quick enough to nearly break her neck.
Akutagawa’s own face heats up. What possessed them to blurt that out?
But she simply nods and finally takes a seat. “What do the other flowers mean?”
They break down the meaning of each flower, and Nakajima listens attentively, only pausing to order their usual tea.
As Akutagawa winds down and they drift to a comfortable silence, their eyes wander to Nakajima’s exposed neck. She’s not wearing her coat again today, and her turtleneck is absent as well. Instead, she wears a simple white sweater, leaving her neck exposed.
The scars from her spiked collar are healing quite nicely, though the skin is still raised and knotted, betraying the agony it must have caused her for years. Akutagawa forces down a sudden surge of loathing for the Man in Black. Nakajima is a strong and capable woman, who certainly doesn’t need to be pitied by the likes of them.
Akutagawa considers their options post-bouquet, as well as the wise words of their mentor. If they can’t express themself and their feelings for Nakajima through the language of flowers, then they’ll forge ahead with their own words and actions.
“Tiger. I challenge you to a fight after work.”
Her face becomes a cavalcade of expressions including shock, confusion, and annoyance. But not for a moment do they worry that she cannot parse his true meaning.
Then slowly, her lips peel back in a grin, exposing her gleaming white canines.
Heat scorches through Akutagawa’s chest and gut at the sight.
As they exchange blows in the abandoned docks, dancing around Ability slashing claws and black tendrils that cut through space, Akutagawa’s very being sings. The sunset illuminates their glorious battle, a joining of spirits that can only understand each other in the midst of a battlefield.
Who needs mere flowers, when their very souls have been fused in the searing flames of combat?
Akutagawa takes Nakajima to a ramen shop afterwards, hidden in a winding alleyway from the hustle of Yokohama’s nighttime crowds. They huddle close together, words flowing freely as they converse with ease. A difficult case, a fundraiser at the Orphanage, Ranpo roping Tanizaki into buying him sweets on the clock, Kyouka trying a strawberry crepe for the first time.
Nakajima’s face is flushed and sweat-sheened from their fight, otherworldly eyes glowing in the dim lighting of the restaurant as she bares her heart.
There is a feeling that bubbles through Akutagawa’s chest, a mix of lingering adrenaline and something else threatening to burst at the sight of her ephemeral visage.
So they lift her free hand and place a delicate kiss upon its calloused skin.