Masaki Motoharu x Heroine
A Floral Shop Anneri short.
Masaki's overflowing with feelings.
A little scenario I dreamed up while playing his route. What if...
The soft tinkle of the door chime pierced through the quiet stillness of the afternoon as she entered through the main entrance of Floral Shop Anneri. Dressed in a crisply ironed grey shift dress and capelet, the neighbouring high school's uniform, she hurriedly threw on the shop's trademark apron.
"Afternoon, Senpai! Sorry I'm late – Wakaouji-sensei wanted to discuss some details about next week's cultural festival, you know him," she bantered on distractedly as she looked over the daily list of customer orders at the front counter.
"Say, has Shizuku-san come to pick up her special order deluxe lily bouquet yet? You must teach me some flower arrangement soon, I've been working here for 11 whole months now and it's about time I learn to do custom flower arrangements."
I smirked – she can be so candid at times. Chuckling bemusedly, I replied from behind some potted ferns, "Sure, we can do it later today. An Amanohashi-san has requested a rose bouquet to be delivered tomorrow, I'll let you do his order."
As I picked up some shears from the tool bench I could almost hear her squeal with delight. Although she didn't really squeal like a piglet, she let out a more reserved kind of noise – kind of like a cross between a chuckle and a full-on celebratory cheer. But I digress.
She's special, this one.
A little under a year ago I was tending to the shop when she walked in through the door. Aha, a kouhai? I thought, sizing up the refreshing yet nostalgic sight of a Hanegasaki student. She was looking for a job, my boss was looking to hire a part-timer. She was polite, obedient, learnt the ropes quickly, and never showed attitude. She was the younger sister I always wanted, we got on swimmingly. All was well. And then it all started to unravel when, on a whim after work, I took her on a drive to see the sunset over our quiet little town. I'll admit it. I'm slow. As the rays of the setting sun cast its hues on us and bathed us in shades of purple, red and orange, with the light growing ever more dim, I realised it.
I realised I loved her.
Those conversations we had in Anneri over the tops of daffodils, the times we hung out over tea and coffee, her many calls asking for homework or friendship advice, all a prelude to our ever growing connection. But, there's just one problem. She's barely in high school, and I'm out of it. Three years her senior, would that constitute robbing the cradle? If only…
"Kya! It hurts!" her grimace shattered my inner monologue. Startled, I looked up from my reverie to the scene of her clutching her right hand, shears fallen flat on the floor and blood dripping from a wound on her index finger.
The culprit – alluded to by a lone crimson petal on the tiled floor. A single rose thorn.
I rushed to her side and briskly whisked her over to the sink, turning on the tap.
"Bleed it," I said, gently.
Many a time before I too had been attacked by those horrific thorns. All in a day's work as a floral shop employee. Quietly, she obeyed, wincing a few times from the sting.
Later, in the calm serenity of the aftermath, and as I bandaged her finger tenderly, I could feel the warmth of her hands through mine. She looked up at me expectantly. Giving her a sympathetic smile, I brushed her right cheek lightly with the back of my hand.
"Maybe we should leave the flower arrangement lesson to another day?"
To which she replied simply, and sweetly, "Yes, Senpai."
Maybe some day, I can let my feelings reach her. Across this invisible divide between senpai and kouhai. The lover and the loved.