Just my little attempt at writing some "True Blue" classic style Senru. I'm out of my comfort zone here. Bear with me please, haha.

Lotus Flower
January – Snowdrop, A friend in adversity

Winter. Cold. Alone.
A time to be with oneself, hiding. Gather up in a blanket, shut the door upon the world and reflect upon what is within.
A time to heal.
A time to take time, slow time, stretch time, feel time. A time to wait.
Underneath the soil, the bulbs of spring sleep softly. Just waiting. Waiting.

Rukawa touched the soil with his fingers. It was cool and damp and not unpleasant. He reached for his trowel and began to sift the soil gently, the young heads of the tiny Snowdrops bobbing as he brushed them.

Be careful he whispered to himself.

They were so small, sweet, delicate. Tiny little flowers, popping their heads up so early in the year, white like the snow from which they would grow. A symbol of the promise of a new year and the seasons that would turn.

"Rukawa-kun," the voice of his manager came drifting from the open office door. He looked up.

Around him, the glasshouse was mostly empty, most of the employees were off spending time with their families due to the new year. Rukawa shook his head slightly, recalling his small empty apartment. No celebrations there. He liked living alone but sometimes it was hard to deny that it was a little… lonely.

"Rukawa-kun one of our clients needs this delivery quite urgently. Since Uedea-san is not here today, how about you drive it over instead?"

Rukawa rose elegantly to his feet, his long limbs straightening and his tall form clearly standing out among the low flower beds. He turned to look towards the manager. She was middle-aged but youthful. Rukawa admired that she single-handedly managed her family's flower nursery business herself, dressed with her usual scruffy hair and the muddied knees on her jeans and work boots. Her husband was some sort of salaryman, and her two small children attended school. She'd thrust a pencil behind her ear and was holding a clipboard in one hand, her cell phone in the other.

"Uhm-" he hesitated, his voice soft and underused. "I can't drive the van, Mariko-san. I'm only fifteen."

She hit her head with the palm of her hand. "I keep forgetting," she bemoaned. "Rukawa-kun, you're so tall I just… oh no… how am I going to deliver these?"

Rukawa looked away. Mariko-san was kind, and likeable, and a friendly manager, but he still didn't feel totally comfortable talking to people. That's why he liked this part-time job. Here, at the nursery. He wasn't required to face customers or clients. He spent most of his time tending carefully for the flowers. He looked at the snowdrops by his feet and suppressed the slight smile that caught the corner of his lips.

Mariko was watching him, a smile of her own on her lips. "You really like tending the flowers, right Rukawa-kun?"

"Uh-" Rukawa looked back up at her. "I guess."

She smiled widely at him. "That just shows you've got a kind and gentle nature."

Uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, Rukawa only looked away. Unseen, Mariko continued to smile warmly at him. She was happy to have given a part-time job to this young student. He was reliable, always attending his shifts on time, quiet and kept mostly to himself, and he made the flowers bloom beautifully. He was always delicate and careful, perhaps even loving towards those precious blooms. She did wonder sometimes why he had taken on a part-time job but it was rare for him to share any information about his personal life, so she let it go.

"You've got a bicycle, don't you?" she realised suddenly. "If we fix a basket to the front, could you carry the pots like that?"

"Um, maybe. Where is the delivery to?"

"Oh," she consulted the clipboard in her hand carefully. "Around Ryonan."

Ryonan.

"Okay," he shrugged. It wasn't too far, and he knew the way.

"After the delivery you can go straight on home. Your shift is almost finished anyway."

Rukawa went silently to collect his bicycle and allowed Mariko to use gardening twine to affix a wire basket to the front handle bars. Inside she carefully placed several pots of snowdrops, their heads bobbing gently with the motion.

"Here's the address," she handed him the paper. "Don't go too fast, now. They might get bruised."

Rukawa looked down a little uncertainly at his tiny charges. Six small pots of snowdrops that were now depending on him to bring them safely to their destination. Whatever future life awaited them. Perhaps in somebody's garden. He wondered if they would be happy where they were going. He hoped so.

Soon he was cycling on down the streets, enjoying the breeze that softly lifted his hair from his forehead and caught quietly flapping against the arms of his jacket. The air was chill with winter, the sun low in the grey sky, mostly overcast. His warm turtle-neck sweater and gloves kept him comfortable despite the cold temperatures.

Eventually he reached an unfamiliar junction and slowed to consult the written directions that Mariko had given him. Right, then left, then left again. He slipped the paper back into his pocket, crinkling the rough fibres as he did so. He took a moment to rub his cold hands together before slipping his gloves back on and pushing off to travel further down the road.

Luckily there was no snow so far this year, and while the road was a little wet with old rain, it was still quite easy to cycle around town. Soon, once the snows came, he would be forced to take the train instead. He enjoyed the exercise and freedom of using his bicycle and hoped the weather would not worsen much.

His eyes caught sight of the local sports park coming up along the road on his left and he couldn't resist slowing a little to check out the basketball courts there. A few figures could be seen moving around, a bright orange ball passing between them before lifting elegantly into the air and swishing silently through the net. Curious, Rukawa moved his bicycle from the road to the pavement, wanting to see what the court conditions were like.

When he wasn't working, he spent most of his free time at the courts close to his home, but sometimes it was busy and knowing where other courts were might be useful information on those unlucky, busy days. As he came close to the fence he noticed that the players were high school students like himself. Some seemed familiar. He dropped his foot to the floor, considering.

That boy there, he was on the Ryonan team, wasn't he? He had soft, floppy hair and an irritated expression. He was currently busy directing his playmates, pointing with his hands and gesturing a little wildly. Near him, Rukawa was almost sure, was another Ryonan player with a rather strange look about him, looking slightly sullen as he unwillingly followed the other's directions. But the court itself, Rukawa noticed, was in really nice condition, as if it had just been renovated recently. The tarmac was bright and fresh, the nets themselves still intact, and no damage or graffiti on the backboards. A little impressed, he resolved that perhaps he might come here some time to practise himself.

"Hey, isn't that…?"

He looked again at the players to see that he was now being scruntised by the bossy Ryonan boy. He was wearing a warm track suit with long legs and sleeves, and although his breath was visiable as white steam in the air, his face was flushed red with the exercise. Rukawa turned away with unhurried motions and set his feet against the pedals, planning to leave before anyone could try to talk to him.

"Ah!" a second high-pitched, excitable voice pierced his ears. "Ah! That's Rukawa! Rukawa Kaede from Shohoku!"

Rukawa ducked his head a little, wishing to avoid attention to himself, hoping he could leave without causing too much of a cacophony. But voices were already reaching out to him like vines and tendrils. As if they could drag him back and hold him there with their comments and questions. He really disliked having to talk to people. One of the few things he disliked about being the so-called ace player of Shohoku was the unwanted "fame" that came with it. He wished he could play basketball in peace and be left alone, but it seemed the inexplicable spread of his name and reputation was a necessary, if unfortunate, side-effect of playing the sport he so loved.

If he didn't look like he did, he wondered, perhaps things would be different. Better. If he didn't have these features, this face, this look that so many seemed to find attractive for reasons he didn't really understand, perhaps he could have escaped his unwanted attention. As it was though…

"Rukawa?" a curious, friendly voice sounded close behind him, near to the chain fence.

He didn't look back to see who it was or respond. Pushing the bike forward with his feet on the pedals, he rode back to the street and continued onwards, his eyes focused forward on the road, concentrating on where to go, heedless of the eyes that watched him leave.

He got lost at the next junction, taking the wrong road and becoming confused when he hit a dead end. He had to retrace his steps, going back past the residential houses with their neat driveways and hanging pots of ivy, small boxy sized cars, and telephone poles blocking the street. It seemed this area had smaller houses and more limited space compared to Rukawa's own district. But it was tidy and neat and not unpleasant, as if people took pride in their small homes.

He took the next road successfully and found himself in front of a residential house upon which a business sign had been erected. "Ayano's Party Planning and Wedding Arrangement Services," it announced. Some sort of business run from home, Rukawa realised. There followed a name, Ayano, that matched the one on his delivery sheet, and a telephone number for enquiries.

Rukawa left his bike and his precious flower pots leaning against the garden wall and hesitated for a moment, looking up at the unfamiliar house. He was caught for a short moment in his familiar feelings of anxiety that always came to him when he was required to meet or do something new. What if the person taking delivery was unfriendly? Or refused to accept the pots? Or what if there was a problem with the order? He already regretted agreeing to make the delivery for Mariko. He'd much rather be tending the flower beds or else by himself on the basketball court rather than facing this unknown situation and the unknown person behind the door.

Swallowing his anxiety, he forced himself up the path and went to ring on the doorbell. A quiet electronic tune sounded from within the house.

"Please wait a moment!" a faint voice could be heard from within. He swallowed and shifted his feet nervously, waiting for whoever was coming to meet him. Soon enough the door was opened to reveal a young woman in her mid-twenties looking slightly harassed. Her hair was slipping out of her bun, falling over her ears, and she was still wearing what looked like soft pyjamas. She had a beautiful face, even without make-up or styling, but gave an untidy impression.

"Yes?" she asked, pushing her fringe away from her face. "Are you one of Akira's friends? He's not here, he's at the..."

"I'm from the nursery," he managed to say, feeling somewhat ill at ease facing this stranger. "Um, did you order a delivery of flowers?"

"Oh!" she straightened in comprehension. "Yes, that's right. For the barbecue. You're delivering them?"

"They're here… on my… bike..." his voice began to sound a little strained. He quickly turned away, reprimanding himself for sounding so uncertain, and went back to the bicycle. Taking one pot carefully in his hands he lifted it, and the woman in the doorway was able to see the tiny snowdrop.

Her expression immediately became disappointed. "Oh," she commented, staring. "They're… really small. I thought they'd be bigger."

Rukawa felt an unwelcome flush begin to climb up his neck. He peered at the tiny snowdrop in his hand and felt confused. What did she mean? What did she expect him to do? It wasn't as if he could make them bigger now. Something like this... it was exactly as he had feared. He didn't know what to do in moments like this. Didn't know what to say. Should he apologise? Should he try to explain? Should he just take the little flowers back to Mariko? He hesitated.

"Uhm-" he floundered for a moment.

"O~nee~san~!" a cheerful voice behind him caught his attention and he glanced back to see a familiar youth coming up to them having come down the street. He was carrying a sports bag on one shoulder, dressed warmly in a tracksuit, his hair wilting and tousled from his time spent playing. A familiar face. Rukawa stared at him. Blue eyes like his own. Handsome face and ready smile. A player from that rival team, Ryonan. Sendoh Akira. The so-called genius of high-school basketball.

Rukawa felt his stomach curl unpleasantly. He really did not want to have to interact with him.

"Ah, Akira, what do you think?" the woman behind Rukawa – apparently Sendoh's older sister - addressed him at once. "These are the flowers for the tables at the new year's barbecue. Don't you think they're probably too small?"

Distracted by the flowers, Sendoh did not look into Rukawa's face and seemed not to notice him standing awkwardly there.

"Oh-" he peered into Rukawa's basket at the little snowdrops. Rukawa watched his profile uncertainly. His handsome face with his lips relaxed into a neutral expression, calm and casual and easy-going. It made Rukawa even more away of his own awkwardness. His natural disinclination towards people and socialising. The way he didn't know what to do with his hands, his feet, where to put his eyes, what to say. Surely if Mariko was here she would be able to defend the little snowdrops from this criticism. She'd have been able to explain why the small flowers were each unique and beautiful and precious as a picture. She'd have explained just why they'd be perfect centrepieces for any table.

"Well-" Akira frowned.

Rukawa tried to summon some words. Some reason. Some way to make them understand the beauty in those tiny white petals, silken buds and dark green leaves. How to make them see what he saw in those small, precious living things. He tried to coax words, thoughts, ideas, from his tongue, but before he could summon the courage or take a breath, Sendoh spoke.

"I think they're sweet," Sendoh announced finally. "Like little snowflakes. It's winter season so of course it's natural to choose something subtle, and gentle, like this. Don't you think neesan? You don't want something loud and gaudy, right? Besides, it's the new year, and these are the new flowers - they are a fresh beginning, do you see? They're… they're just perfect."

"Oh, well," the elder sibling did not look too sure. "If you think so, I suppose."

The half formed sentences died on Rukawa's lips still unsaid. He stared curiously at Sendoh beside him in surprise. How easy, he reflected, it seemed when someone else did it. Why did he not have that ease? Why was he unable to speak at moments like these?

"Of course!" Sendoh straightened and smiled at her, still not having looked at Rukawa silent beside him. "You know I have good taste!"

"Well," she turned away. "Can you help the delivery guy put them into the van? I will take them to the barbecue site after I dress."

"Uh, you know uncle borrowed the van and still hasn't returned it, right? Something about stock for his clothing store?"

Ayano slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, no, I totally forgot! What am I going to do?"

A strange feeling of deja vu overcame Rukawa at that moment. He thought he knew the answer already. A silent sigh passed his lips.

"Maybe I can re-deliver them for you," he muttered softly, his voice barely audible. "Where is the site?"

Ayano turned back to his with a thrilled, grateful expression. "Oh, you can? Oh, thank you so much! It's not far! I'll write the directions for you."

Sendoh meanwhile, turned at the sound of that familiar voice, only to find that he recognised the boy who had been standing beside him all this time unnoticed. "Oh!" he was surprised. "Rukawa? Is that you?"

Rukawa spared him only a brief glance from the corner of his eye in acknowledgement of his words.

"Wow, how come you are delivering flowers now?" Sendoh asked him curiously, his eyes flickering up and down to reconsider his clothing. Rukawa became suddenly awkwardly aware that there were some muddy patches on his work jeans. He reached up and tugged at his tight sweater collar uncomfortably, disliking Sendoh's attention. "Is this your family's business?" It seemed that Sendoh came from a family of entrepreneurs so this was naturally the immediate conclusion that he'd jumped to.

Rukawa shook his head softly. "Just part-time work," he muttered, looking off to the side. He felt bothered by Sendoh's eyes on him, and wanted to get on his way as soon as possible, however the elder sister was still inside the house hunting for a pen and paper.

"Oh, I see," Sendoh smiled kindly at him, but Rukawa was not looking his way. His eyes were fixed on some point further down the road as if wishing to be going. "Are you in a hurry?"

Rukawa looked back at him. He hadn't been in a hurry, but now that he had to travel even further to make his delivery, his time was getting shorter. There was school tomorrow, winter vacation was almost over, and he had homework yet to finish. Besides, he needed to buy groceries and cook dinner for himself. He'd skipped dinner yesterday as he'd fallen asleep in front of the television watching a movie he couldn't even now recall.

Before he could answer Sendoh's question, however, his sister reappeared in the door frame. "Here!" she passed the paper to him on which was scrawled an address. "This is really very helpful, thank you so much, er-"

There was a moment of silence in which Rukawa failed to fulfil the required information.

"Rukawa." It was Sendoh's voice finally, not his own, that spoke up to introduce his name. "His name is Rukawa Kaede."

Rukawa suppressed his urge to fidget under the expectant stares of the two siblings. What was he supposed to say now? Agree? Affirm Sendoh's words? Repeat his name? He didn't really know. He just stood awkwardly.

"Rukawa-kun," the woman smiled. "I really appreciate it. If you're not busy, feel free to stay on at the barbecue for a while. It's a charity event. There'll be plenty of food. Akira will be there."

Rukawa felt Sendoh's eyes watching him curiously. He shook his head. "No I, uhm-" he looked a little anxiously at the snowdrops waiting patiently in their basket. "Sorry. I'll... just be going now."

He climbed back onto his seat on the bike and, keeping his eyes fixed to the floor, braced his feet on the pedals ready to push off.

"I'll call ahead," Ayano told him quickly, "and tell my colleague to expect the delivery there. She can sign the delivery note for you."

Rukawa didn't reply or wait any longer but set himself into motion, taking care not to jostle the flowers too much as he set off back the way he had come, still with his precious bundle, leaving the two Sendoh siblings behind him. He didn't look back. Now that he was away from them, he felt his anxious heartbeat gradually reduce back to normal. Somehow he'd managed to get through that particular encounter. Now he just needed to repeat the process at the barbecue site instead. He sighed internally, thinking of his home, dark and quiet and waiting for him peacefully. Four walls behind which he could hide and make himself safe and calm again.

He really disliked dealing with people. He'd better tell Mariko that he didn't want to make any more deliveries.

He looked down at the tiny flowers.

It's okay he told them. Not far now.

Sendoh watched the younger boy cycle away down the road curiously.

"What an odd boy," his sister commented beside him, her eyes also following his path. "Is he a friend of yours?"

"No..." Sendoh frowned to himself. "He's from another school. He does play basketball, though."

"He's tall," Ayano said, nodding to herself. "Is he any good?"

"He… is. Really good, actually," Sendoh grinned a little to himself, remembering his previous encounters with the young Shohoku player on the courts. His fiery determination and cool demeanour. A little different, actually, than how he had appeared today. "But not as good as me," he added, still smiling.

"Well, why is he so sad?" Ayano asked him.

"Sad?" Sendoh echoed, creasing his brow a little. The word hadn't occurred to him. Sad? "Do you think he's sad?"

Ayano shrugged casually. "I just thought he seemed rather..." she hesitated, unsure how to explain. "Well, withdrawn, I guess. Lonely, perhaps. Maybe you should talk to him more. He looks like he could do with some cheering up."

Sendoh recalled the way Rukawa had looked down at the little flowers. The way his eyes had watched over them protectively. Affectionately. With such a fragile, anxious love that Sendoh had found himself defending them from his sister's implied rejection despite the fact that the flowers had, indeed, been too small.

'Well, maybe," he replied, thoughtfully. "But perhaps he wouldn't like that. I think he's rather… private."

His sister shrugged. "Up to you," and made her way back into the house. "It was kind of him to help, though."

Sendoh stayed where he was, considering the small figure right up until he turned the corner on his bike, and disappeared from view. Kind. Yes. And rather… unexpected.

-tbc

ANs: I have no idea what I'm doing. I also know nothing about flowers. I'm such a fraud.

Typed this out just this afternoon, straight though, no stopping. Forcing myself not to over-edit and drive myself crazy. This is an easy-going one, I hope. I purposefully left the grammar mistakes and poor sentence patterns in to shake myself up a bit hahaha. Too much perfectionism recently. I just fancy a bit more of a mess.

What kind of writer purposefully includes errors? I don't know. I'm just trying something here, cut me some slack XD