Unfold - 02/XX - ToraXSaga
Title: Unfold
Chapter: 02/XX
Author: akichuu
Fandom: Alice nine.
Pairings: ToraXSaga
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, drama, angst
Warnings: Unbeta-ed mistakes.
Disclaimers: I only own my funky brain and the amusing ideas it spews on daily basis.
Summary: In the pictures that he took, he had captured the wonders and beauty of almost the entire world; he had made eternal the smiles and laughter on other people’s faces. Behind the lens, though, he had forgotten what the rainbow looked like, what colors it beamed with. That was until he came across a flower shop.
Abstract: “Just call me Tora.” And the lopsided smile grew just a tiny bit wider, while the dark haired photographer stared at Saga.
Comments: Maa… I should be chased and shot down for being so retarded. I don’t suppose being a bit unhealthy could be a reason enough, couldn’t it? Anyhow I almost lost interest in this story but then my wife encouraged me and I’ve found a new method of writing, so it’s all well now. I can’t promise quick updates (what’s with me starting a new job in February and all), but you can have faith that it’ll continue :)
Unfold
Chapter 2
==========
His name was Kohara Shou-or simply Shou, as the man had insisted so that Saga and Nao would call him that; but for Saga, personally, the tall, blonde man was the exact personification of everything in the world he had only thought of, imagined of. He was the fashion that Saga could only stare at but never wear. In Saga’s eyes, every single item that attached to the man’s body looked unspeakably expensive; starting from the violet scarf wrapping around his neck, to the shirt on his torso and to the shiny black shoes on his feet. Even to the way he walked and talked gave Saga the impression that this man had never tasted something like a life less ordinary-but it wasn’t that Saga was jealous, no. He honestly had never expected that, one day in his life (a life he intended to keep simple and plain as it was), he’d be meeting and becoming acquainted with a high-class, young executive like Shou.
Shou’s job, just like how he had explained to both Saga and Nao, was as an editor in the magazine where Amano Tora was currently freelancing at. As what was necessary, Shou came today with Amano Tora; that while Amano Tora continued where he had left off the other day-which would be taking pictures of the building-Shou would be having a conversation with Nao related to the flower shop he owned. Saga was quite certain that, when he saw the awed expression on Nao’s face, his boss had never imagined that his shop would one day be featured in a magazine, and not to mention he would be interviewed. But in the midst of his astonishment, Saga could also see the enthusiasm in his boss’ face, and curiosity as well. It was quite probable that Nao was currently wondering what it would be like once the magazine was published, and in it were the pictures of his shop.
Thus, it was with such a face (which Saga thought made Nao look quite silly), Nao led Shou towards the back section of the room, where there were a set of table and seats, and spent only a short time of sharing platitude until they were already deep in a conversation. All the while Saga was left behind his post-which was behind the counter table, as always-feeling awfully nervous; because now he fully realized that there were only him and the photographer, Amano Tora. Lifting his eyes, Saga caught sight of the dark haired man, who was presently standing in the middle of the room and busy with the parts of his camera.
Beyond his expectation, at that very second the said man turned his head, almost as if he could sense Saga’s eyes that were focused on him. An impressively thin smile stretched on his lips before he voiced out: “Excuse me but, are you busy at the moment?”
For certain Saga gaped momentarily-a couple of seconds that only afterward he realized had made him look utterly stupid. But then he gathered himself up and shook his head. “No, no,” he replied, “What can I do for you?”
“Well,” Amano Tora tilted his head slightly, peering towards the location where Nao and Saga had engaged themselves in quite a warm discussion. “Since Shou has taken away your boss all for himself, I think I would need someone else that can explain to me about the place. Can you help me with that?”
Again, Saga paused for a while, but reacted sooner than before. He nodded, and answered timidly: “I think I can do that. But… but you won’t put my words on the magazine, would you?”
His face was brimming with heat and Saga just knew it had turned red-could feel it turning red-when the photographer laughed lightly. Saga felt embarrassed, yes, since it was him being laughed at, but moreover he felt overwhelmed because this was actually the first time he’d seen Amano Tora laugh. A fine white line of teeth appeared for a brief moment; a pair of eyes glinted before Amano Tora shut his mouth again and resolved with a small, slightly lopsided smile instead.
“No, I think that’s Shou’s duty to interrogate people and put the result on a magazine. I only need to know, for example, which spots you think are significant, the brief history of the place so that I know what to highlight in the photographs I take,” he explained.
Still vaguely sensing his burning cheeks, Saga hummed in understanding. He slowly shifted from his seat behind the counter table and walked approaching the photographer (who happened to still be smiling at his direction), and then asked: “Where do we start?”
Amano Tora nodded. “Let’s go out front, then.”
---
On the sidewalk, across the road, Saga was trying to follow where the lens of the photographer’s camera was aiming at. From their spot he could see the front landscape of the flower shop, complete with the metal rack where Saga had arranged pots of flowers earlier this morning, the front door of the shop, and above the door, the wooden board on which the shop’s name was written. ‘JEWELS’-inscribed with green, all capital letters-was visible on the board; the edges of the letters had faded in some degree, the paint had peeled off with time. The truth was that that board was not a minute bit older than the shop itself, and that would be, more or less, four years old, but it seemed that this year’s winter and the recent, unpredictable visits of rain were making the condition worse by the day. Saga worried that pretty soon Nao would tell him to climb up there to the roof and take down the board to be fixed and repainted.
In the mean time the photographer had finished taking God only knows how many pictures of the building, the name board, and whatever else he had found interesting in the last hour. Amano Tora then took a place beside him while Saga observed wordlessly; they were both leaning on the side of the photographer’s sedan, given that it was the best spot for them to get the clearest view of the shop’s landscape-so said the photographer.
Amano Tora had his head hung low, so deeply focused he seemed on his camera and Saga watched with amusement. He hardly ever touched anything electronic, save for the billing machine on the counter in the shop and his microwave back home, so something as sophisticated as the photographer’s camera was obviously alien to him. The device seemed so complicated, with several small buttons and digital elements. Saga bet it worth a fortune, and he would better wait for the world to end before he touched it. He couldn’t risk breaking it now, could he?
Over Amano Tora’s shoulder, Saga could see slide after slide of digital pictures of the real thing that lay only several feet ahead of them. There were many shots of the name board, and of the flower rack-taken from many different angles: left, right, above and below. Saga wondered which one of those pictures would end up printed in the magazine.
“Sakamoto-san,” Amano Tora suddenly pronounced, “How long have you been working in this shop?”
For a moment, Saga did what he had done before back in the shop, which was making a fool of himself as he gaped. The sentence didn’t seem comprehensible for quite a while; but then Amano Tora tilted his head a bit and suddenly his face was right in front of Saga’s, and his sharp eyes were staring right into Saga’s eyes. Once more, the lopsided smile appeared on those lips.
“Ah! Umm…” Saga pulled back, slightly startled. The question that the photographer had recently asked of him finally sunk in, and he answered: “It’s almost been two years, I believe.”
“Two years?”
“Yes, Amano-san.”
“And do you like what you do so far, Sakamoto-san?”
Saga smiled a little. “Yes, as a matter of fact I like this job a lot, Amano-san. I couldn’t think of any other occupation for me to do,” he answered.
“I see…” the photographer nodded, “It’s great to have something you have your heart set on, isn’t it?”
“Very well said, Amano-san, it is-“
“Tora.”
Saga shifted his eyebrows; he turned his sight towards the photographer, confused. “What?”
“Just call me Tora.” And the lopsided smile grew just a tiny bit wider, while the dark haired photographer stared at Saga. And then the man shrugged his shoulder when he continued, “It’s just weird to be addressed to so formally so often, you see.”
For a moment it felt like Saga was standing in front of a thick, strong gate and he was watching the two considerably sized metal doors as they moved just a little bit, opened a very small fragment; the crevice wasn’t big enough for him to be able to see what was hidden behind that gate, but nevertheless, it opened. It was a weird revelation and even Saga thought so. Why would such a simple thing like this make him feel different; make him feel that this encounter wasn’t just his average, daily encounter with average, daily people? It wasn’t like how he got acquainted with the shop’s customers-the kind of acquaintances that happened in one brief moment, the kind of acquaintances that he’d forget overnight. No; his feelings told him that this would not be a similar encounter, not something he could easily forget, and the feelings got even weirder, stronger when he looked at Amano Tora’s face.
Still half baffled by his own train of thoughts, Saga then stuttered, “Then… then you could call me Saga.”
Tora nodded. “Saga-san.”
Giggling clumsily, Saga nodded along. “Tora-san.”
A whole afternoon by the photographer’s side went by so quickly without Saga realizing it. Their introduction could’ve been awkward, but the conversation they had afterwards flowed so smoothly Saga couldn’t have expected it at the very least. The sun was slanting far off on the western horizon when they were talking animatedly about Tora’s job. Saga couldn’t hold his amazement just as Tora was telling him about his experience taking pictures on the snowy slopes of Switzerland Mountains or in the depth of the Sulawesi Ocean, which was filled with wondrous, almost magical creatures-so Tora said. It only seemed obvious that this man had seen probably every single country there was in the world, while Saga… well, Saga had never even stepped an inch out of Japan, sadly to say. And what he’d seen in Japan throughout his life could’ve never compared to what this man had seen around the world.
“Was it hard to take pictures underwater?” asked Saga enthusiastically.
Tora laughed lowly before he answered, “Not really. I used a waterproof camera back then. The hardest thing was just arranging the lighting and trying to breathe properly, that’s all.”
Thinking that ‘underwater’ that he’d ever seen was only the base of his bathtub and the scenery of the aquarium where his little goldfish abode in, Saga bobbed his head in awe. He did the same when the photographer continued his story, this time it was about the various strange foods he had tried during his visits to foreign countries.
“One thing for sure is that,” Tora explained, “You will not want to put something called ‘Sambal Terasi’ into your mouth without proper preparations.”
Tora laughed, but Saga, having no clue what the other man was talking about, merely grinned.
“Saga-san, I forgot to ask,” the photographer suddenly changed the topic, “Why JEWELS? The name of the shop, I meant.”
Saga smiled. “Mm… You must be confused why a flower shop was named like that, while, as you can see, we don’t sell jewelry of any kind. I actually get that question a lot from our customers,” he said, “Nao came up with it, but he told me why he picked that name. First of all, I must explain that Nao loves flowers and plants, and it’s been his childhood dream to open his own flower shop-although, to be honest, he did go through a lot of obstacles before he finally made his dream come true.
“Nao have once told me: ‘Every single person on earth must have a moment in their life where they find it difficult to convey their feeling-no matter how simple the feeling seems to be, sometimes the words we have in our minds are just not fitting enough to express it. So that is why God created flowers.’”
“How so?” Tora asked.
Saga wondered why but, at that moment, seeing the glint of curiosity emerging in Tora’s eyes, he felt urged to smile. “I was just as confused. But then Nao said that, every species of flower had its own meaning. For example, when red roses represent love, the yellow ones represent friendship.”
“Ah… Are you speaking of the language of flowers?”
Saga lifted his brows. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d know about it.”
A small smile creeping up his lips, Tora shrugged his shoulder. “I’ve only heard briefly about it. I remember once that I’ve been asked to take pictures of flowers and since it seemed to be important, my client explained a bit about the meanings of those flowers.”
“You truly impress me, Tora-san,” Saga shook his head, “You know so much!”
An unrestrained laugh erupted from the photographer’s throat-and Saga stared in complete shock. It may seem hilarious but beyond his wildest guess, Amano Tora-whom he’d initially considered cool and strict-could actually laugh in a way that the sound of his laughter was light and crisp and the color of his face was fresh red. Saga knew he shouldn’t have judged anyone from a first glance of their looks, but without him realizing it, this man’s image had been printed that way-cool and strict-in the back of his mind and that was exactly why he was quite amazed to see him laugh so freely.
“No, no,” Tora flailed his hand in front of his face, “It’s not me, but the people around me that know pretty much, and they hardly can keep their mouths shut.”
Saga laughed, covering his mouth with one hand.
It was only at that moment that Saga realized and felt puzzled with himself; surely it didn’t occur to him everyday where he was able to get involved so quickly into a leisure conversation with anyone. No, Saga was never a person who got along well and easily with other people, and not to mention with people he’d only met twice like Amano Tora. And Saga had never found himself talking much in front of anyone unfamiliar, again, like Amano Tora; but the funny thing was, it all felt so natural. It was as if he was meant to meet this man, to get to know him and to have this conversation with him.
Shoving his confusion deep down into his brain, Saga continued, “So that was it. It was Nao who stated that flowers were just like jewels that God had created to help people express their feelings toward others, thus, flowers value just as much as those precious stones, only not as literally expensive.”
“Ah… I see it now,” Tora nodded, “JEWELS. Apparently the meaning is quite philosophic, is it not?”
Saga giggled. “You definitely should listen to Nao talking sometimes, Tora-san.”
---
In all honesty, Saga felt quite sorry to look at the sky beyond the window glass: it had become so dark already, and the time had come for them to clean up the shop for closing. It certainly was-or even past-six p.m. already, and with one glance over the room towards the clock hanging on the wall, Saga confirmed his own guess. By his side was Nao, and in front of him stood Shou, the editor, and Tora, the photographer. Shou hadn’t stopped looking so pleased ever since his discussion with Nao had ended and likewise, Nao looked quite cheerful at the moment. Saga could only suspect that Nao had found a compatible dialogue partner, which didn’t happen quite often, recalling Nao’s pretty annoying habit of talking non-stop. This man, Shou, must be some talker himself to be able to keep up with Nao for as long as he did; and Saga couldn’t help but shook his head in awe.
However, the day had ended, and for Saga it all seemed like a brief, yet delightful dream. And just like every time he was having a beautiful dream, there was a big part of him that wanted to stay asleep for as long as it was possible for him and to keep living the wonderful dream; but then there was that small part that was left of him, the part that kept telling him that it was never possible to be living in a dream. This was real life, and in real life, his guests were done for today and they had to leave. And all Saga could do was wonder when he would ever be able to see them again.
“Thank you very much, Nao-san,” Shou said cheerfully, lifting up a hand, “It was so much fun talking to you.”
“Likewise, Shou-san,” Nao welcomed the hand of the editor and shook it gently. “Please, I beg you to come again, whenever you like.”
“Certainly! Once the magazine is published I’ll come here in an instant, to hand you an exemplar, of course. Just make sure that you’ve got that crème coffee ready in case I drop by, Nao-san. It was awfully delicious!”
“Oh please…” Nao giggled, “I already told you, my Granny’s secret recipe is truly unrivaled.”
“It’s such a shame that you wouldn’t share…” Shou pouted playfully.
“Well if I told you then it’s not a secret anymore now, Shou-san!”
It was with such manner that Nao and Saga walked their guests to the door-with Nao walking by Shou’s side (endlessly talking about the many varieties of coffee that could’ve been made with the cheapest, most average herbs that you could find in your kitchen) while Saga strutting clumsily by Tora’s side. When they’d reached the sidewalk right outside the door, the photographer-who had been pretty quiet during the last half an hour-finally spoke up.
“Excuse me, but can I buy a flower?” he asked, making Saga lift up his sight at him in wonderment.
“Yes-yes, you can, but it won’t last too long, because the flowers have been out here since morning,” Saga answered.
“That’s fine.”
So then Saga walked towards the rack where he had arranged pots of flowers earlier this morning, and then asked the photographer: “What flower do you want?” And with skillful movements, he prepared a piece of paper which would be needed to wrap the flowers that Tora was going to buy.
“Umm… What was it you said, the flower that represents friendship?” instead of answering, Tora questioned back.
There was an unreadable glint in Tora’s eyes when Saga turned towards him, looking at him confusedly. A bit stuttering, he mumbled, “Y-yellow rose.”
“I’ll take that, one stem, please.”
Saga frowned a little when he approached the pot in which were set stems of yellow roses-most of these sunshine colored blooms had withered overtime, but some were still presentable and Saga picked one that looked the nicest. He plugged it out of the pot and was just about to hand it over to Tora. Silently, of course, deep within his heart he was wondering for whom Tora was buying this flower for; was it someone special? Could it be his girlfriend? But why would he ask for a flower that represented friendship if he meant to give it to his girlfriend?
The questions were kept well hidden, though, and Saga never really meant to ever ask them out loud. Next Tora asked for the price and Saga answered him briefly with a number, and soon enough, an amount of money equaled to the number Saga had mentioned was already handed over from Tora to him. What shocked Saga then was when Tora refused to take the flower he had paid for.
“Keep it,” so said the photographer; shined dimly by the light from within the shop, a faint, almost imperceptible smile stretched out on his lips. “It’s for you.”
Saga’s eyes went wide open and so was his mouth without a word ever coming out of it, and he remained with this pose even as Shou and Tora strode away from sight, approaching Tora’s sedan that was parked across the road. The photographer waved his hand briefly, and so did Shou, before both of them got in the car. All the while Saga could only stare, still wide-eyed and open-mouthed, until finally the sedan roared off and away, and disappeared at the turn a few hundred meters down the road.
It was only when Nao patted his shoulder that Saga woke up from his unmoving state; the Yellow Rose was held tightly in his hand, as tightly as possible without breaking the stem. What he saw first was the glowing, meaningful eyes and the smile that his boss directed at him, and next, this was what he said to Saga: “It’s time to clean up, Saga-kun.”
--- To be continued ---
A/N:
· That went well, I think; well, I’m talking about the writing process. Oddly enough, despite me thinking I’d lost inspiration on this story, this chapter flowed pretty smoothly while I was using the new method I’ve been working with.
· In case you’re wondering, Sambal Terasi is a name of a chili sauce, a traditional recipe that comes from ages ago here in my country. Too much of it can surely make your stomach twist.
· Someone please tell me: has it ever been recorded in history that a girl died from running out of blood during her period? *tears* I feel like so.
· Well… Back to beds now, patients!
Before: 00 / 01 / -
After: -
Fanfic list: here
Chapter: 02/XX
Author: akichuu
Fandom: Alice nine.
Pairings: ToraXSaga
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU, drama, angst
Warnings: Unbeta-ed mistakes.
Disclaimers: I only own my funky brain and the amusing ideas it spews on daily basis.
Summary: In the pictures that he took, he had captured the wonders and beauty of almost the entire world; he had made eternal the smiles and laughter on other people’s faces. Behind the lens, though, he had forgotten what the rainbow looked like, what colors it beamed with. That was until he came across a flower shop.
Abstract: “Just call me Tora.” And the lopsided smile grew just a tiny bit wider, while the dark haired photographer stared at Saga.
Comments: Maa… I should be chased and shot down for being so retarded. I don’t suppose being a bit unhealthy could be a reason enough, couldn’t it? Anyhow I almost lost interest in this story but then my wife encouraged me and I’ve found a new method of writing, so it’s all well now. I can’t promise quick updates (what’s with me starting a new job in February and all), but you can have faith that it’ll continue :)
Unfold
Chapter 2
==========
His name was Kohara Shou-or simply Shou, as the man had insisted so that Saga and Nao would call him that; but for Saga, personally, the tall, blonde man was the exact personification of everything in the world he had only thought of, imagined of. He was the fashion that Saga could only stare at but never wear. In Saga’s eyes, every single item that attached to the man’s body looked unspeakably expensive; starting from the violet scarf wrapping around his neck, to the shirt on his torso and to the shiny black shoes on his feet. Even to the way he walked and talked gave Saga the impression that this man had never tasted something like a life less ordinary-but it wasn’t that Saga was jealous, no. He honestly had never expected that, one day in his life (a life he intended to keep simple and plain as it was), he’d be meeting and becoming acquainted with a high-class, young executive like Shou.
Shou’s job, just like how he had explained to both Saga and Nao, was as an editor in the magazine where Amano Tora was currently freelancing at. As what was necessary, Shou came today with Amano Tora; that while Amano Tora continued where he had left off the other day-which would be taking pictures of the building-Shou would be having a conversation with Nao related to the flower shop he owned. Saga was quite certain that, when he saw the awed expression on Nao’s face, his boss had never imagined that his shop would one day be featured in a magazine, and not to mention he would be interviewed. But in the midst of his astonishment, Saga could also see the enthusiasm in his boss’ face, and curiosity as well. It was quite probable that Nao was currently wondering what it would be like once the magazine was published, and in it were the pictures of his shop.
Thus, it was with such a face (which Saga thought made Nao look quite silly), Nao led Shou towards the back section of the room, where there were a set of table and seats, and spent only a short time of sharing platitude until they were already deep in a conversation. All the while Saga was left behind his post-which was behind the counter table, as always-feeling awfully nervous; because now he fully realized that there were only him and the photographer, Amano Tora. Lifting his eyes, Saga caught sight of the dark haired man, who was presently standing in the middle of the room and busy with the parts of his camera.
Beyond his expectation, at that very second the said man turned his head, almost as if he could sense Saga’s eyes that were focused on him. An impressively thin smile stretched on his lips before he voiced out: “Excuse me but, are you busy at the moment?”
For certain Saga gaped momentarily-a couple of seconds that only afterward he realized had made him look utterly stupid. But then he gathered himself up and shook his head. “No, no,” he replied, “What can I do for you?”
“Well,” Amano Tora tilted his head slightly, peering towards the location where Nao and Saga had engaged themselves in quite a warm discussion. “Since Shou has taken away your boss all for himself, I think I would need someone else that can explain to me about the place. Can you help me with that?”
Again, Saga paused for a while, but reacted sooner than before. He nodded, and answered timidly: “I think I can do that. But… but you won’t put my words on the magazine, would you?”
His face was brimming with heat and Saga just knew it had turned red-could feel it turning red-when the photographer laughed lightly. Saga felt embarrassed, yes, since it was him being laughed at, but moreover he felt overwhelmed because this was actually the first time he’d seen Amano Tora laugh. A fine white line of teeth appeared for a brief moment; a pair of eyes glinted before Amano Tora shut his mouth again and resolved with a small, slightly lopsided smile instead.
“No, I think that’s Shou’s duty to interrogate people and put the result on a magazine. I only need to know, for example, which spots you think are significant, the brief history of the place so that I know what to highlight in the photographs I take,” he explained.
Still vaguely sensing his burning cheeks, Saga hummed in understanding. He slowly shifted from his seat behind the counter table and walked approaching the photographer (who happened to still be smiling at his direction), and then asked: “Where do we start?”
Amano Tora nodded. “Let’s go out front, then.”
---
On the sidewalk, across the road, Saga was trying to follow where the lens of the photographer’s camera was aiming at. From their spot he could see the front landscape of the flower shop, complete with the metal rack where Saga had arranged pots of flowers earlier this morning, the front door of the shop, and above the door, the wooden board on which the shop’s name was written. ‘JEWELS’-inscribed with green, all capital letters-was visible on the board; the edges of the letters had faded in some degree, the paint had peeled off with time. The truth was that that board was not a minute bit older than the shop itself, and that would be, more or less, four years old, but it seemed that this year’s winter and the recent, unpredictable visits of rain were making the condition worse by the day. Saga worried that pretty soon Nao would tell him to climb up there to the roof and take down the board to be fixed and repainted.
In the mean time the photographer had finished taking God only knows how many pictures of the building, the name board, and whatever else he had found interesting in the last hour. Amano Tora then took a place beside him while Saga observed wordlessly; they were both leaning on the side of the photographer’s sedan, given that it was the best spot for them to get the clearest view of the shop’s landscape-so said the photographer.
Amano Tora had his head hung low, so deeply focused he seemed on his camera and Saga watched with amusement. He hardly ever touched anything electronic, save for the billing machine on the counter in the shop and his microwave back home, so something as sophisticated as the photographer’s camera was obviously alien to him. The device seemed so complicated, with several small buttons and digital elements. Saga bet it worth a fortune, and he would better wait for the world to end before he touched it. He couldn’t risk breaking it now, could he?
Over Amano Tora’s shoulder, Saga could see slide after slide of digital pictures of the real thing that lay only several feet ahead of them. There were many shots of the name board, and of the flower rack-taken from many different angles: left, right, above and below. Saga wondered which one of those pictures would end up printed in the magazine.
“Sakamoto-san,” Amano Tora suddenly pronounced, “How long have you been working in this shop?”
For a moment, Saga did what he had done before back in the shop, which was making a fool of himself as he gaped. The sentence didn’t seem comprehensible for quite a while; but then Amano Tora tilted his head a bit and suddenly his face was right in front of Saga’s, and his sharp eyes were staring right into Saga’s eyes. Once more, the lopsided smile appeared on those lips.
“Ah! Umm…” Saga pulled back, slightly startled. The question that the photographer had recently asked of him finally sunk in, and he answered: “It’s almost been two years, I believe.”
“Two years?”
“Yes, Amano-san.”
“And do you like what you do so far, Sakamoto-san?”
Saga smiled a little. “Yes, as a matter of fact I like this job a lot, Amano-san. I couldn’t think of any other occupation for me to do,” he answered.
“I see…” the photographer nodded, “It’s great to have something you have your heart set on, isn’t it?”
“Very well said, Amano-san, it is-“
“Tora.”
Saga shifted his eyebrows; he turned his sight towards the photographer, confused. “What?”
“Just call me Tora.” And the lopsided smile grew just a tiny bit wider, while the dark haired photographer stared at Saga. And then the man shrugged his shoulder when he continued, “It’s just weird to be addressed to so formally so often, you see.”
For a moment it felt like Saga was standing in front of a thick, strong gate and he was watching the two considerably sized metal doors as they moved just a little bit, opened a very small fragment; the crevice wasn’t big enough for him to be able to see what was hidden behind that gate, but nevertheless, it opened. It was a weird revelation and even Saga thought so. Why would such a simple thing like this make him feel different; make him feel that this encounter wasn’t just his average, daily encounter with average, daily people? It wasn’t like how he got acquainted with the shop’s customers-the kind of acquaintances that happened in one brief moment, the kind of acquaintances that he’d forget overnight. No; his feelings told him that this would not be a similar encounter, not something he could easily forget, and the feelings got even weirder, stronger when he looked at Amano Tora’s face.
Still half baffled by his own train of thoughts, Saga then stuttered, “Then… then you could call me Saga.”
Tora nodded. “Saga-san.”
Giggling clumsily, Saga nodded along. “Tora-san.”
A whole afternoon by the photographer’s side went by so quickly without Saga realizing it. Their introduction could’ve been awkward, but the conversation they had afterwards flowed so smoothly Saga couldn’t have expected it at the very least. The sun was slanting far off on the western horizon when they were talking animatedly about Tora’s job. Saga couldn’t hold his amazement just as Tora was telling him about his experience taking pictures on the snowy slopes of Switzerland Mountains or in the depth of the Sulawesi Ocean, which was filled with wondrous, almost magical creatures-so Tora said. It only seemed obvious that this man had seen probably every single country there was in the world, while Saga… well, Saga had never even stepped an inch out of Japan, sadly to say. And what he’d seen in Japan throughout his life could’ve never compared to what this man had seen around the world.
“Was it hard to take pictures underwater?” asked Saga enthusiastically.
Tora laughed lowly before he answered, “Not really. I used a waterproof camera back then. The hardest thing was just arranging the lighting and trying to breathe properly, that’s all.”
Thinking that ‘underwater’ that he’d ever seen was only the base of his bathtub and the scenery of the aquarium where his little goldfish abode in, Saga bobbed his head in awe. He did the same when the photographer continued his story, this time it was about the various strange foods he had tried during his visits to foreign countries.
“One thing for sure is that,” Tora explained, “You will not want to put something called ‘Sambal Terasi’ into your mouth without proper preparations.”
Tora laughed, but Saga, having no clue what the other man was talking about, merely grinned.
“Saga-san, I forgot to ask,” the photographer suddenly changed the topic, “Why JEWELS? The name of the shop, I meant.”
Saga smiled. “Mm… You must be confused why a flower shop was named like that, while, as you can see, we don’t sell jewelry of any kind. I actually get that question a lot from our customers,” he said, “Nao came up with it, but he told me why he picked that name. First of all, I must explain that Nao loves flowers and plants, and it’s been his childhood dream to open his own flower shop-although, to be honest, he did go through a lot of obstacles before he finally made his dream come true.
“Nao have once told me: ‘Every single person on earth must have a moment in their life where they find it difficult to convey their feeling-no matter how simple the feeling seems to be, sometimes the words we have in our minds are just not fitting enough to express it. So that is why God created flowers.’”
“How so?” Tora asked.
Saga wondered why but, at that moment, seeing the glint of curiosity emerging in Tora’s eyes, he felt urged to smile. “I was just as confused. But then Nao said that, every species of flower had its own meaning. For example, when red roses represent love, the yellow ones represent friendship.”
“Ah… Are you speaking of the language of flowers?”
Saga lifted his brows. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d know about it.”
A small smile creeping up his lips, Tora shrugged his shoulder. “I’ve only heard briefly about it. I remember once that I’ve been asked to take pictures of flowers and since it seemed to be important, my client explained a bit about the meanings of those flowers.”
“You truly impress me, Tora-san,” Saga shook his head, “You know so much!”
An unrestrained laugh erupted from the photographer’s throat-and Saga stared in complete shock. It may seem hilarious but beyond his wildest guess, Amano Tora-whom he’d initially considered cool and strict-could actually laugh in a way that the sound of his laughter was light and crisp and the color of his face was fresh red. Saga knew he shouldn’t have judged anyone from a first glance of their looks, but without him realizing it, this man’s image had been printed that way-cool and strict-in the back of his mind and that was exactly why he was quite amazed to see him laugh so freely.
“No, no,” Tora flailed his hand in front of his face, “It’s not me, but the people around me that know pretty much, and they hardly can keep their mouths shut.”
Saga laughed, covering his mouth with one hand.
It was only at that moment that Saga realized and felt puzzled with himself; surely it didn’t occur to him everyday where he was able to get involved so quickly into a leisure conversation with anyone. No, Saga was never a person who got along well and easily with other people, and not to mention with people he’d only met twice like Amano Tora. And Saga had never found himself talking much in front of anyone unfamiliar, again, like Amano Tora; but the funny thing was, it all felt so natural. It was as if he was meant to meet this man, to get to know him and to have this conversation with him.
Shoving his confusion deep down into his brain, Saga continued, “So that was it. It was Nao who stated that flowers were just like jewels that God had created to help people express their feelings toward others, thus, flowers value just as much as those precious stones, only not as literally expensive.”
“Ah… I see it now,” Tora nodded, “JEWELS. Apparently the meaning is quite philosophic, is it not?”
Saga giggled. “You definitely should listen to Nao talking sometimes, Tora-san.”
---
In all honesty, Saga felt quite sorry to look at the sky beyond the window glass: it had become so dark already, and the time had come for them to clean up the shop for closing. It certainly was-or even past-six p.m. already, and with one glance over the room towards the clock hanging on the wall, Saga confirmed his own guess. By his side was Nao, and in front of him stood Shou, the editor, and Tora, the photographer. Shou hadn’t stopped looking so pleased ever since his discussion with Nao had ended and likewise, Nao looked quite cheerful at the moment. Saga could only suspect that Nao had found a compatible dialogue partner, which didn’t happen quite often, recalling Nao’s pretty annoying habit of talking non-stop. This man, Shou, must be some talker himself to be able to keep up with Nao for as long as he did; and Saga couldn’t help but shook his head in awe.
However, the day had ended, and for Saga it all seemed like a brief, yet delightful dream. And just like every time he was having a beautiful dream, there was a big part of him that wanted to stay asleep for as long as it was possible for him and to keep living the wonderful dream; but then there was that small part that was left of him, the part that kept telling him that it was never possible to be living in a dream. This was real life, and in real life, his guests were done for today and they had to leave. And all Saga could do was wonder when he would ever be able to see them again.
“Thank you very much, Nao-san,” Shou said cheerfully, lifting up a hand, “It was so much fun talking to you.”
“Likewise, Shou-san,” Nao welcomed the hand of the editor and shook it gently. “Please, I beg you to come again, whenever you like.”
“Certainly! Once the magazine is published I’ll come here in an instant, to hand you an exemplar, of course. Just make sure that you’ve got that crème coffee ready in case I drop by, Nao-san. It was awfully delicious!”
“Oh please…” Nao giggled, “I already told you, my Granny’s secret recipe is truly unrivaled.”
“It’s such a shame that you wouldn’t share…” Shou pouted playfully.
“Well if I told you then it’s not a secret anymore now, Shou-san!”
It was with such manner that Nao and Saga walked their guests to the door-with Nao walking by Shou’s side (endlessly talking about the many varieties of coffee that could’ve been made with the cheapest, most average herbs that you could find in your kitchen) while Saga strutting clumsily by Tora’s side. When they’d reached the sidewalk right outside the door, the photographer-who had been pretty quiet during the last half an hour-finally spoke up.
“Excuse me, but can I buy a flower?” he asked, making Saga lift up his sight at him in wonderment.
“Yes-yes, you can, but it won’t last too long, because the flowers have been out here since morning,” Saga answered.
“That’s fine.”
So then Saga walked towards the rack where he had arranged pots of flowers earlier this morning, and then asked the photographer: “What flower do you want?” And with skillful movements, he prepared a piece of paper which would be needed to wrap the flowers that Tora was going to buy.
“Umm… What was it you said, the flower that represents friendship?” instead of answering, Tora questioned back.
There was an unreadable glint in Tora’s eyes when Saga turned towards him, looking at him confusedly. A bit stuttering, he mumbled, “Y-yellow rose.”
“I’ll take that, one stem, please.”
Saga frowned a little when he approached the pot in which were set stems of yellow roses-most of these sunshine colored blooms had withered overtime, but some were still presentable and Saga picked one that looked the nicest. He plugged it out of the pot and was just about to hand it over to Tora. Silently, of course, deep within his heart he was wondering for whom Tora was buying this flower for; was it someone special? Could it be his girlfriend? But why would he ask for a flower that represented friendship if he meant to give it to his girlfriend?
The questions were kept well hidden, though, and Saga never really meant to ever ask them out loud. Next Tora asked for the price and Saga answered him briefly with a number, and soon enough, an amount of money equaled to the number Saga had mentioned was already handed over from Tora to him. What shocked Saga then was when Tora refused to take the flower he had paid for.
“Keep it,” so said the photographer; shined dimly by the light from within the shop, a faint, almost imperceptible smile stretched out on his lips. “It’s for you.”
Saga’s eyes went wide open and so was his mouth without a word ever coming out of it, and he remained with this pose even as Shou and Tora strode away from sight, approaching Tora’s sedan that was parked across the road. The photographer waved his hand briefly, and so did Shou, before both of them got in the car. All the while Saga could only stare, still wide-eyed and open-mouthed, until finally the sedan roared off and away, and disappeared at the turn a few hundred meters down the road.
It was only when Nao patted his shoulder that Saga woke up from his unmoving state; the Yellow Rose was held tightly in his hand, as tightly as possible without breaking the stem. What he saw first was the glowing, meaningful eyes and the smile that his boss directed at him, and next, this was what he said to Saga: “It’s time to clean up, Saga-kun.”
--- To be continued ---
A/N:
· That went well, I think; well, I’m talking about the writing process. Oddly enough, despite me thinking I’d lost inspiration on this story, this chapter flowed pretty smoothly while I was using the new method I’ve been working with.
· In case you’re wondering, Sambal Terasi is a name of a chili sauce, a traditional recipe that comes from ages ago here in my country. Too much of it can surely make your stomach twist.
· Someone please tell me: has it ever been recorded in history that a girl died from running out of blood during her period? *tears* I feel like so.
· Well… Back to beds now, patients!
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After: -
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