Summary: There is a black coffin hidden deep in the woods, nestled behind a ring of bushes.
There is a black coffin hidden deep in the woods, nestled behind a ring of bushes. It's surrounded by a layer of fresh, white snow, and a handful of pink carnations are scattered all over it. He stumbles onto it one snowy Christmas evening while trying to find his way out of the forest.
At first, he thinks someone had dropped a load of flowers and didn't bother to pick it up, but as he ambles closer (out of pure curiosity), he noticed the pink flowers created words. Words that spell out, Merry X-mas.
A small shiver slips down his spine, and he shakily reaches out a gloved hand and brushes away the snow, revealing a gleaming black coffin with a pale white cross painted on the surface. His first reaction is to let out a small whimper and back away, as if a zombie was going to rise from the coffin any minute. His second reaction is to take a deep breath and tell himself stop being ridiculous. His third reaction is to stare at the coffin in shock as reality seeps in- why is there a coffin in the middle of nowhere? Why are there flowers that formed words?
He shakes his head and leaves, thinking that he shouldn't pry too much into other people's business.
But the thought keeps on nagging him, and he plans to go back one day and visit.
It's almost a whole year before he finds time to revisit the coffin in the woods, on the fourteenth of October. He picks his way through the thicket, wondering if he's gotten lost again. But as he steps over a row of thick bushes, he trips over a root and lands face first with a startled yelp. He slowly pulls himself up with a groan, and realizes he's face to face with the same black coffin that he saw almost a year ago.
Nothing has changed; the paint is as smooth and glossy as ever with the same warm, loving feeling that seems to settle in. But, he notices this time, purple violets along with bright orange marigolds are shrew over the coffin as well as scattering the floor around. Something else rests on the cross, and at first he thinks it's a puffy blue and red flower of some sort, but as he look closer, he realizes it isn't so.
It's fire- small blue and red and yellow and purple and green flames that quietly flick upwards, resting on the pale white cross but not burning anything.
His jaw drops, his mind trying unsuccessfully to comprehend the meaning of this. A harmless prank? Magic? Witchcraft?
Gulping, he takes a step back, a soft crunch sounding under his foot as he steps on the autumn leaves.
Suddenly, as he's looking at the colorful flames, he sees the words that are spelled out in the fire- Happy Birthday.
The sweet smell of flowers slam into him, and as he runs an eye over the petals scattered across the forest floor, something his florist sister said to him came to mind.
"Marigold is the birth flower for October," she explained, happily arranging the orange flowers in a glass vase. "Someone wanted some for a birthday."
"Look! Purple violets! Did you know that they symbolize loyalty?" she exclaimed. "Someone wanted to place a bouquet of violets on their dog's grave."
"Pink Carnations mean I miss you," she said softly, wrapping up the bouquet. "I'm guessing someone died or is going to move away."
A slow breath comes out of his lips, and he suddenly turns away and leaves, not looking back.
But the next year, on October 14, he finds himself trekking through the same forest looking for the same coffin and he finds it in the exact same place with the exact same message glowing over the cross: Happy Birthday. This time, he reaches into his pocket and sprinkles the petals of a red rose over the gleaming black surface of the coffin.
"Come on, don't make that face!" she says, laughing. "I know red roses mean love, but they also symbolize respect!"
For the next 5 years he visits this stranger's grave, although for what reason he doesn't quite know. He plans to continue this strange tradition, but suddenly, with the rise of an organization called "Millefiore", it seemed too dangerous to enter those woods. So he stopped, and forgot about that strange coffin in the woods.
Two years later, somehow, the world had calmed down a bit and one chilly October morning, he finds himself walking the exact same path he'd taken for years, remembering the gleaming black coffin that was sitting in the woods, probably in the same exact shape it was before. He steps over the bushes with practiced ease, and stares in shock at the sight before him.
The black paint is dull, chipping off at some parts and running grey in others- no doubt affected by rain and storm. The pale white cross is almost gone, a bouquet of white hydrangeas resting at the center. Somehow, he knows that something's changed, and there's no reason to pay his respects any longer. He's not quite sure why, and he can't quite explain this feeling.
Marigolds are scattered around the fading coffin, along with petal of yellow roses.
Happy Birthday and Welcome Back.
A/N: So this is my failed attempt at a birthday fic for Tsuna. I tried a different style with this; how'd you guys like it? Shoot me a review!
Happy birthday Tsuna!
