Based on Awful AU #196 from .com
"Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you've caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the "girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft" and I'm trying to figure out how to break it to you that we're on our way to a graveyard" AU
He never meant for it to become a habit.
The tiny white buds nestled in the thorny bush just reminded him so much of her: small, deceptively soft, dangerous, alive. So very alive, climbing over the fence and through it, ambitious and greedy in their quest for new places to grow and thrive. Her as he remembered her, not some cold hard stone with too few words written on it. The wrong words, things like dates and a short haiku about how she is missed. Kuina isn't missed or missing, she's here. Maybe not physically here, but when he holds that white sword he knows it's her energy, her ambition guiding its blade, not his. His forms were never so precise, his footwork never as steady. He feels closest to her when he practices with that sword, or when he visits her and they talk. Well, she doesn't say much these days, but she was always an excellent listener. Sometimes he just goes to sit and meditate, maybe nap a little if it's a warm enough day. She doesn't mind. He thinks she likes the company. The first few times he brought flowers, they seemed appropriate, bright, pretty, vibrant, the perfect contrast to the grey graveyard. Lately he hadn't been bothering, just wandering by after training at the dojo. Sometimes he took walks, to think, and they often brought him to her. He hadn't noticed these flowers before though, maybe they were new? It wasn't impossible, trees and houses moved around all the time, Zoro knew this for a fact, no matter what anyone else claimed. He shook himself out of his thoughts and picked an armful of the flowers and went on his way, he wanted to get there before dark.
The next time it was tall, purple flowers on a long stalk. The flower(s) were clustered together in a big ball that looked almost like a firework. Like some nondescript stalk had been growing up and up and then suddenly burst into bloom. When they went to the festivals together, she'd always make him stay up late enough to watch the fireworks, even though any normal person would be going to bed to get their 10 hours of sleep they needed. He didn't even hesitate this time, picking a bunch of the firework flowers, (the big ones and the small ones) and heading off with a small smile on his face.
He never meant for it to become a habit, but week after week he found himself in front of the same house, with the short chainlink fence and blue shutters with little fish cutouts and flowers.He was almost through picking another bunch when a man in a suit came out of the front door and started screaming at him.
This is little more than a draft, but I've written the next chapter and some of the rest, I just wanted to publish it while I had the nerve. It's one of my first stories ever, so I appreciate any and all feedback. Please contact me if you want to beta read this or you know someone who would! I could really use the help.