on more of my latent shizuka+himawari obsession--story fragment
This is the strangest thing I've written in a while. And yet...it haunts me. The very idea of it. I just - I don't even know.
"Hinata," he says one evening, and though she likes it, she admits that she would rather bestow the name upon a daughter instead of a son. She is baffled when he continues down a list that includes the names Botan, Ran, and Yuri. The pattern is unmistakable, but she refrains from pointing out that he seems determined to give their son a girl's name. Instead she tells him that she likes all of them, and she will need to think about it more. He nods and leaves the room. She gazes after him thoughtfully.
She realizes what he is doing a few days later, when he comes to her while she is reading a pamphlet on birthing classes.
"Chika," he suggests.
She puts the pamphlet down and thinks about it.
"It's cute," she says. "'Fine wisdom' is a good name for a boy."
He looks at her, pulls the pamphlet toward him, scribbles on one edge, then slides it back to her.
She peers down at it. "Oh," she says. "'Scatter flowers.' Hmm." She is silent for a moment, then looks up at him.
To his credit, he doesn't sigh, but only looks more determined as he leaves the kitchen.
She doesn't mind that he is continuing his family's tradition of giving the eldest son a girl's name. What surprises her is his determination to give their child a flower name, too. She told him once that flower names were a sort of joke in her family: not quite a tradition, just an odd quirk. He has come to a compromise: they will name their eldest son after a flower.
Any other wife might have objected. She takes to the challenge with delight, teasing him about the likelihood of him dressing their son in a girl's kimono if it should become necessary. He doesn't deny the charge. Though she doesn't wish ill health on her own child, she is charmed at the idea; she's seen pictures of her husband in kimono, and if their child is anywhere near as adorable when dressed up, she is going to have the time of her life.
They go through dozens of names. She hadn't even known there were so many flower names. They don't really disagree on any name in particular; still, most of them are far too feminine, even for tradition's sake. She likes a few of them, but none feel right for their son. He never gets impatient with her indecision, just searches through family records for more ideas.
"Momoka," he says at one point, peering at a yellowed scroll.
She tilts her head at him and grins.
"Would that be written 'peach tree flower' or 'peach tree scent?'" she asks.
He shakes his head and shows her the kanji. She laughs and says it's a nice name, but perhaps 'one hundred flowers' is not the ideal name for a boy, even a Doumeki.
While they are lying in bed one night, three months into her pregnancy, he says, "Suzuka."
On the verge of sleep, she says, "Hmm, that's a good one." Yawning, she adds, "It doesn't have to be a flower name, you know." She doesn't say, "It doesn't have to be a girl name, either," because honestly, she thinks it is too funny that he is trying so hard, and she is touched that he would want to bring their families together in this way.
He is quiet for so long that she is almost asleep when he says, "I want it to be."
Her lips curve. "I know," she murmurs.
In the end, it is Watanuki who solves the problem. They are visiting the shop on his birthday when Maru and Moro run in clutching a bouquet of irises.
"Congratulations!" they chorus, presenting the flowers to Himawari. "We're excited about your baby!"
"We all are," says Watanuki. "I hope your child has your strength and courage, Himawari-chan." He levels a look at Shizuka. "And let's hope he doesn't inherit your appetite."
"Have you decided on a name yet?" Mokona wants to know from its perch on Shizuka's shoulder. "Names are important, you know!"
She is preoccupied with the bouquet, tracing an iris petal with an idle finger. Strength and courage...valor and wisdom. A noble heart. Unflagging faith. A friendship so dear that it transcends all else, even time.
Her mind is all of a sudden as clear and focused as if she's known it all along. She meets her husband's eyes. He is watching her, and she can tell from his expression that he knows too.
"Ayame," she says, and he smiles.
--
This is not as shippy as it seems to be. Honestly. They're only married because, well, they were so close anyway, and it's the best way for Shizuka to protect her. And they're having a baby because Himawari's always wanted a child of her own and they have to continue the family line and - and - SHUT UP, IT'S MY HEADCANON, OKAY. >.<
In case anyone cares, the name Ayame means iris, a flower which, in the Japanese language of flowers (hanakotoba), has many different meanings. It symbolizes good tidings, hence the girls giving Himawari a bouquet of them; it also connotes, you might have guessed, all the things that ran through Himawari's mind right at the end. It is especially known for the friendship thing; I thought it entirely appropriate that Shizuka and Himawari would honor their deep friendship in this way, since it is essentially the tie that bound them together after Watanuki flipped their world upside down.
"Hinata," he says one evening, and though she likes it, she admits that she would rather bestow the name upon a daughter instead of a son. She is baffled when he continues down a list that includes the names Botan, Ran, and Yuri. The pattern is unmistakable, but she refrains from pointing out that he seems determined to give their son a girl's name. Instead she tells him that she likes all of them, and she will need to think about it more. He nods and leaves the room. She gazes after him thoughtfully.
She realizes what he is doing a few days later, when he comes to her while she is reading a pamphlet on birthing classes.
"Chika," he suggests.
She puts the pamphlet down and thinks about it.
"It's cute," she says. "'Fine wisdom' is a good name for a boy."
He looks at her, pulls the pamphlet toward him, scribbles on one edge, then slides it back to her.
She peers down at it. "Oh," she says. "'Scatter flowers.' Hmm." She is silent for a moment, then looks up at him.
To his credit, he doesn't sigh, but only looks more determined as he leaves the kitchen.
She doesn't mind that he is continuing his family's tradition of giving the eldest son a girl's name. What surprises her is his determination to give their child a flower name, too. She told him once that flower names were a sort of joke in her family: not quite a tradition, just an odd quirk. He has come to a compromise: they will name their eldest son after a flower.
Any other wife might have objected. She takes to the challenge with delight, teasing him about the likelihood of him dressing their son in a girl's kimono if it should become necessary. He doesn't deny the charge. Though she doesn't wish ill health on her own child, she is charmed at the idea; she's seen pictures of her husband in kimono, and if their child is anywhere near as adorable when dressed up, she is going to have the time of her life.
They go through dozens of names. She hadn't even known there were so many flower names. They don't really disagree on any name in particular; still, most of them are far too feminine, even for tradition's sake. She likes a few of them, but none feel right for their son. He never gets impatient with her indecision, just searches through family records for more ideas.
"Momoka," he says at one point, peering at a yellowed scroll.
She tilts her head at him and grins.
"Would that be written 'peach tree flower' or 'peach tree scent?'" she asks.
He shakes his head and shows her the kanji. She laughs and says it's a nice name, but perhaps 'one hundred flowers' is not the ideal name for a boy, even a Doumeki.
While they are lying in bed one night, three months into her pregnancy, he says, "Suzuka."
On the verge of sleep, she says, "Hmm, that's a good one." Yawning, she adds, "It doesn't have to be a flower name, you know." She doesn't say, "It doesn't have to be a girl name, either," because honestly, she thinks it is too funny that he is trying so hard, and she is touched that he would want to bring their families together in this way.
He is quiet for so long that she is almost asleep when he says, "I want it to be."
Her lips curve. "I know," she murmurs.
In the end, it is Watanuki who solves the problem. They are visiting the shop on his birthday when Maru and Moro run in clutching a bouquet of irises.
"Congratulations!" they chorus, presenting the flowers to Himawari. "We're excited about your baby!"
"We all are," says Watanuki. "I hope your child has your strength and courage, Himawari-chan." He levels a look at Shizuka. "And let's hope he doesn't inherit your appetite."
"Have you decided on a name yet?" Mokona wants to know from its perch on Shizuka's shoulder. "Names are important, you know!"
She is preoccupied with the bouquet, tracing an iris petal with an idle finger. Strength and courage...valor and wisdom. A noble heart. Unflagging faith. A friendship so dear that it transcends all else, even time.
Her mind is all of a sudden as clear and focused as if she's known it all along. She meets her husband's eyes. He is watching her, and she can tell from his expression that he knows too.
"Ayame," she says, and he smiles.
--
This is not as shippy as it seems to be. Honestly. They're only married because, well, they were so close anyway, and it's the best way for Shizuka to protect her. And they're having a baby because Himawari's always wanted a child of her own and they have to continue the family line and - and - SHUT UP, IT'S MY HEADCANON, OKAY. >.<
In case anyone cares, the name Ayame means iris, a flower which, in the Japanese language of flowers (hanakotoba), has many different meanings. It symbolizes good tidings, hence the girls giving Himawari a bouquet of them; it also connotes, you might have guessed, all the things that ran through Himawari's mind right at the end. It is especially known for the friendship thing; I thought it entirely appropriate that Shizuka and Himawari would honor their deep friendship in this way, since it is essentially the tie that bound them together after Watanuki flipped their world upside down.