There's no real warning for this new work. Canon-typical violence is expected, and I still remain an LGBTQ writer, so there's a large chance of me incorporating representation (from my own experience), but heh! Nowadays kids are learning, right?

Flower Shop AU

Chapter One - Settling Down

Harry hummed a popular pop song under his breath. He really hated it, but it was catchy and the rhythms had easily engrained themselves inside his head. The flower shop was not very busy, allowing him some time to breathe, although he would have to check in the back soon if they had enough of amaryllises and sunflowers.

It was surprising; Hermione and Ron had expected him to choose a less… flowery job, but Harry had enough of living through horrific experiences every year at the hands of some egomaniac psychopath who would try to skin his skinny ass. He fled England after the war, trying to lose whatever made him the Boy-Who-Lived, so he got rid of his very distinctive round spectacles, replaced them with contact lenses which were his actual prescription, and allowed his hair to grow out. It was more or less tameable nowadays, if he tied it back, which was almost constantly. He let it out free only when he had a headache or if he was back at home. He also discovered that coconut oil was a great way to actually manage it, and it had the side advantage of making his hair gain a glossy and healthy shine.

Eventually, he settled in the peaceful land of the rising sun, hoping to replenish his energy and finally unwind. He had travelled through many countries first before deciding on his last stop. Italy and France were obnoxiously close to his homeland - Harry scratched them off his list very early. Germany was quite pleasant, but something didn't quite click. Also, he struggled too much while trying to learn how to speak German. He took a detour to India, where he had been able to visit the country where his grandfather had lived before coming to England and marrying into the Potter family. He had a great time sightseeing, but he doubted he could live the rest of his life in India, as much as he appreciated the country and culture.

He fell in love with Japan as soon as he set foot upon the Japanese ground. It was a fresh start, people were less likely to recognise him and he was terribly excited to learn about new customs and a whole new culture. The only obstacle left was the language barrier. However, Harry was nothing but concentrated and motivated when he was passionate. So, with the help of an American-Japanese cousin Hermione remained in contact with after her own visit to Japan -a man called Takeshi. He had blushed the first time Harry called his first name, and Harry flushed when he learnt that first name basis was reserved for close relationships (the cultural shock was the one huge obstacle he had to tackle)- Harry had been able to get down the basics of the new tongue, and progressed steadily as he spent more time exploring the country.

Then, he met the person who changed his life, and ever since, he never regretted his decision.

He literally stumbled upon the man in Metropolitan Tokyo while aimlessly wandering. Initially he had lost his way in the commercial district, until he wound up in one of the smaller alleys, probably where delivery typically took place. Just a few paces in front of him were a group of teenagers. He had heard that Japanese people were generally shorter than the majority of Europeans, but it seemed that these teens were as tall, or taller than him. And they were stalking forward towards an old man Harry could barely make out from his spot behind their backs.

What was more concerning was the one guy with a completely square head, and the girl with pincers for hands. That was weird. The square head, Harry could somewhat understand, even if the sharpness of the angles was unnatural. But the pincer girl was a bit too much. Moreover, they were a bright neon green and looked to be quite sturdy and agile. Harry could not conceive it to be something else apart from human transfiguration gone horribly wrong, or a new kind of super sophisticated eccentric prosthesis. Although he doubted that it was an actual prosthesis.

Harry had taken to hide himself in the alley perpendicular to the one the group was in, using the shadows provided by the piles of crates to avoid being seen. The teens were still close to him, but he was almost sure that he was unnoticeable. He had no plan to barge in and challenge them to save the old man's honour, even if a voice in his head which resembled Ron's was telling him to stop being a coward and move his ass to help someone. Hermione did always tell him that he had a hero complex. It was not exactly intentional that he had to do something if he saw someone who needed to be aided. Especially if it was one versus many. It reminded him of the war, where one small group of combatants, barely out of their teens and basically untrained, with some teachers past their prime, was up against an army, one which had gone through training and another war.

Harry could hear one of the members of the peculiar group speak up, requesting money for protection. So these were delinquents who were trying to terrorize an old man into giving in and handing them money. He really should have walked away, especially since pincer girl was snapping her pincers menacingly at the man, and they looked sharp and ready to pinch and possibly rip one or two arms off. Of course Harry bloody Potter would do the complete opposite and attract attention to himself. Wow. He sounded a bit like Malfoy when he was younger and more of a prat that he was nowadays.

"Hey you kids! What are doing out of school at this time? Scam now, or I'll drag you to the police station ASAP," he called out, coming out of his niche to stand proud and tall against them. He was not really going to do it, but threatening teens looked to be the better alternative to beating them up. Harry may have been a war veteran, but he used to rely on his magic and not his physical strength. The best he could do was run as fast as possible and control a broom, which mostly depended on the power his thighs and arms could produce while maintaining a moderately strong core. It's not like he could take out his broom and whack them on the head with it. That would be terribly uncivilized, even for him.

Immediately, the teens took notice of the short stack he was compared to them, and suddenly, Harry reconsidered his decision. They were ripped and armed. And appeared to be ready to attack. Curse his big mouth. Even the shortest and weakest looking had at least ten centimetres on him and gave him the impression that he could break him in half.

If only they would peacefully leave to attempt to make someone else piss their pants, that would be great, because Harry was not very sure he could deal with all of them diplomatically and avoid being deported back to England.

Then as if some kind of celestial being had graced him with luck - Harry always hoped that an UMA would visit him one day - the old man whom he was supposed to help moved away, ducked into what Harry assumed to be his store and slammed the door shut. He stuck his head out of a window upstairs just a few moments later whilst holding a cell phone to his ear. "I'm calling the police now. Leave the young man alone. You better run quick," he yelled at them.

Soon enough, the teens were out of sight and Harry had been invited inside the shop. He had been given a cup of strong black tea, something he found incredibly blissful. He cradled it in his still shaking hands, the adrenaline he felt slowly flushing out of his system. Taking slow sips of the piping hot beverage, Harry admired silently the flowers and plants surrounding him in the living room. They were well cared for and seemed to have been loved immensely.

The old man's name was Nakamura Reo. He was indeed being threatened by those bloody youngsters who had absolutely no manner - his words, not Harry's. He was also very capable of defending himself. That being said, Harry had to rush him to a nearby clinic because the old man toppled over when he got up to put away their mugs because of the pain radiating from his back. As it was, Nakamura was on strict bed rest since he had been able to strain his back solely by moving too much too fast. Harry found it ironically amusing.

Except that he felt guilty. Incredibly so. He could have distracted those hooligans and made them forget about Nakamura, so that he could lead them far away from there. But he did not so, now Nakamura was in no shape to care for his shop and flowers.

And he did the next thing Hermione expected him to do because he was a predictable idiot. So he proposed Nakamura to tend to his store until he was back on his feet.

"No."

Harry stared at him, incredulous. Why would Nakamura even say no. Harry had been the one who troubled him and now his plants and business were in danger.

"But... What about the shop? There's no way you can walk around with a back in such a state and the doc would kick both of us straight back into the hospital if she knew," Harry tried to reason. Nakamura proved to be nothing but a stubborn old man. However, Harry was known to be a persistent mule when he wanted to.

"Okay kid" - oh now it was kid and no longer young man - "I know you tried to help with the other kiddos earlier but there's no need to help anymore. I'm an old man, way past my golden days. I have been thinking of closing down the shop anyway and it's the perfect opportunity. My children have already told me that they would not take over after my retirement, plus they have already built their own lives anyway, and my husband is long gone."

Harry felt an ache form in his chest. The old balding bugger had already grown on him during the few hours they spent together. Nakamura didn't give the impression that he was too bad of a man. The fact that he was now alone in his tiny shop also struck a chord within Harry. After he left his blood family, he found amazing friends, which he loved immensely and tried his best to stay in contact with. It would have destroyed him if his friends would leave him all alone again.

So he made it a mission, even if it seemed selfish, to take over the flower store and accompany Nakamura during his recovery.

"Nakamura-san, sell me your shop."

"Brat, come again."

Okay maybe that was too sudden but when the genius inspiration strikes, you sometimes just gotta jump on it.

"Please, sir. If you're worried about the money, I will get it to you by the latest tomorrow evening. I'm willing to find an apartment nearby, you won't even need to move out. And I can learn quickly how to manage the store and the plants," Harry pleaded.

His answer was still a "no". Except that Harry knew he would win. Because of the puppy eyes. No one had been able to refuse him if he used them. He could probably have vanquished Voldemort with these killer eyes. It was a true weapon.

He sighed dejectedly, purposefully lowering his head in defeat. If he could amp his cuteness factor by a few more levels, Harry was sure he could break Nakamura down. "Alright, but please think a bit more about my offer? Since you've already told me that you wanted to retire," he requested.

Harry could see Nakamura crack a little.

"You're an obstinate kid, aren't you?" Nakamura chuckled. "Give me the night and I'll tell you tomorrow. By the way, where are you living?"

Harry blushed. "I haven't yet been able to find a nice spot to move to, so I'm residing in the hotel... Which now that I think of it... Nakamura-san? I'm lost."

Nakamura burst out into laughter. Harry now had to deal with the embarrassment, but he must admit that it was a fun experience.

Thankfully, Nakamura was able to indicate him his way back to his hotel among his snickers, which was not that far from the flower shop actually, although Harry had to ask for directions a few times on his way. Finally back at his room (he took a top level room, even if it was more expensive because the war still haunted him to this day), he collapsed onto his bed. He had just barely enough energy to remove his shoes and socks before climbing under the duvet. He was out like a light seconds after his head hit his heavenly soft and cloud-like pillow.

When he woke up, Harry could only remember his appointment with Nakamura. They had not chosen a time, but Harry would like to present the old man with at least some breakfast.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Thankfully, he did not wake up too late. It was barely quarter past six. Just in time to pick something hot from a bakery, if he could find one.

It took Harry less than ten minutes to take a shower - which he had forgone the previous evening in favour of collapsing face first into a mattress - and get dressed, glad to be out of the outfit in which he slept in. He was off to find the nearest spot for freshly baked goods soon enough, taking care to close and lock the door to his hotel room with just the slightest bit of added security.

He asked for directions at the reception to the nearest decent bakery, thanking the staff before zipping down the already busy streets of Tokyo. Luckily, he did not lose himself too badly, and slowly made his way towards the indicated bakery, the smell of bread quite literally guiding him towards his destination. By then, he was famished. He hurried all the way to Nakamura's flower shop, trying to remember the few distinctive locations, like the restaurant atop which a huge toilet rested, which could help him navigate in the still much unexplored city.

Harry could have groaned out loud in relief when he arrived. He had been allowed to at least reach his final stop without causing any problem, which was by itself an incredible feat considering his luck these days. Even the box of pastries he held was safe and intact.

Now, as he stood at the front door, he considered his options. He could invite himself in, seeing Nakamura had given him a spare key, or he could knock and wait for Nakamura - who was still on strict bed rest - to climb down the stairs and open the door for him. He chose to prevent Nakamura and himself from being offed by an enraged doctor. He had had the honour of experiencing the wrath of Poppy Pomfrey, and he had no intention of seeing whether the doctors in Japan were as feared as the ones he knew back in his homeland.

The delicate chime of the doorbell greeted him. He went upstairs through a door hidden by vines that held at their tips still budding hydrangeas. The only reason Harry could remember what kind of flower it was because it was the only flower that remained after Petunia's tender care in the Dursleys' backyard for Harry to maintain during the summer. It was a tripping experience since the plant parted to let him walk to the stairs when he barely touched them. It was not magic, or at least not the magic he practised.

He shrugged. Technology had improved by leaps and bounds since he was a child, before he left for Scotland. Having lost touch with the modern world a bit after seven years being almost completely separated from it could be tolerated, right? Plus it was Japan. The tech-country which mixed traditions with ultra-advanced machinery.

"Nakamura-san?" Harry called out as he arrived at the top of the stairs directly into a genkan, already removing his shoes and putting them aside. He heard a faint "Here" coming from a room in the hallway in front of him.

He assumed that it was okay for him to come in. Harry had little difficulty locating the source of the voice, and he found himself in the presence of Nakamura in the latter's bedroom, which was as embellished with flowers and potted plants as he had expected.

Harry took the pouf that took up the space near the bed, gingerly handing the old man resting there the box of pastries. He was met with reluctant approval. The silence between them was unnerving, especially since Harry was waiting for a clear answer to his abrupt proposal. It stretched into minutes, long and painful for Harry. Nakamura had no apparent reaction, serenely nibbling on his croissant while Harry was trying to stress-eat away his impatience.

"Young man - Harry-kun," Nakamura spoke up after finishing his pastry, making Harry start slightly. He was just glad that he didn't choose to try to fit another whole mini-quiche into his mouth. He did not fancy dying a savoury death. Although it would not be that bad a way to go.

"There's one thing first that we need to clarify before I agree to let you take over my modest shop."

Harry perked up at that. He really had a chance of dealing with the old man for a really long time - by taking care of the store, Harry meant, of course. It not like he would go upstairs everyday to spend some time with a lonely widower, who apparently had no neighbour who would willingly put themselves into danger's way to help someone in need.

"Yes?" Harry prompted.

"Do you have a fire-based Quirk? If so, do you have full control of it? I do not want to die in an incendiary accident in my own home."

Okay, first off. What is a Quirk? Is that the Japanese equivalent of magic? But Harry was sure that he had not used magic in front of anyone. How would Nakamura even know about his magic? He did not perceive any form of supernatural energy that he knew of coming from the man. But now that he really thought about it, pincer girl could be explained by magic. Was magic more integrated in the Japanese culture than in the British community? If yes, would he easily be recognised?

Unperturbed by Harry's internal freak out, Nakamura continued. "I myself have a plant-based Quirk. You'd have to be blind if you hadn't noticed the moving hydrangeas. Mine simply allows me to 'feel' through plants, as well as instruct them to do as I ask. The more I interact with one particular plant, the stronger a bond grows. It's a real friendly chat that gets them going, or they can just be unwilling to cooperate."

Was Nakamura an elemental mage? Was it even a thing in the magical world? He could even talk to plants. Harry could too, but that'd just prove to Skeeter that she was right about him being a bit off in the head. There may be a potion to regrow bones, cruel and vicious human-killers like the basilisk, but who says that mages do exist. Harry felt the beginning of a huge headache and pain in the ass starting to form. Merlin saves him.

Harry chose to answer as accurately. "I don't only have fire abilities, sir. Generally speaking, I'm very good at repelling spells, so I don't rely much on fire."

This drew a sharp intake of air from the old man. Harry could hear him mutter under his breath, something along the lines of "Multi-faceted Quirk user"? It didn't make much sense to Harry. All of his peers could just as well perform the Expelliarmus, although that specific spell was Harry's trademark. Non-lethal, but it did its job efficiently.

Nakamura hummed. Harry was tempted to scream his head off. All the rumbling thoughts and mutters were getting to him and fraying his temper. Admitted, he was getting better at holding it back, but he was no saint. Even if Malfoy used to insist that he was.

"I don't have many more accidents, if you want to know. I've gotten pretty good at holding back nowadays," Harry offered.

Nakamura looked at him pensively for a few more moments, before finally taking pity on Harry and giving him a decisive answer. "Alright young man. You'll have the store. Let us set the paperwork straight and we'll be good. I expect to be allowed to live in my home however. I'll call my lawyer to start drafting the papers. Also, you will need training. I cannot let someone still wet behind the ears to take over from me."

Harry was absolutely overwhelmed, but he was glad. It would surely be a hard job, but at least he would have a mentor to guide him in this new uncertain territory.

AN : And I'm on with my new project. It's been lurking on the edge of my mind since a while, but I got around to actually start writing it only 4 days ago. But I must admit I'm quite pleased with myself. I don't know yet how long it'll be since I'm writing purely on whim, but there's still that.