The Yellow Rose
(ME ) I give many thanks to my editor for her undying patients and dedicated passion for fixing and pointing out my spelling mistakes. I would also like to thank Meg and Ri-Ri for introducing me to the spiffy animes used in this story.
To any one that may be reading this: Thank you for choosing this as your next FF to read. Before you start, please note that the parings in this are almost all ocXchareter form said animes. If you would rather imagine one of the OCs as you I am perfectly fine with that (it's what I usually do)
Spoiler alert: If you don't like tragedies do not read this. (though the ending is a little happier) AND if you have not yet finished the Inuyasha (as well as Inuyasha the Final Act) and or the Yu Yu Hakusho series expect spoilers.
Disclaimer: I do not own or take part in the making of any and all Animes used in this FAN made story. This is purely for the purpose of my own amusement and hopefully the entertainment of others.
-Larry [Kony2012]
Beignets: (Ben-y-a-z) A French style donut commonly served smothered in powdered sugar in New Orleans Cafes.
Chapter 1
The view from the aloft cliff was vertiginous, but in the elapse of time one's mind accepts and becomes use to most everything. My eyes flitted over the oceanic field that stretched beyond the horizon. A flock of gaggling seagulls swayed as they rode on the back of the breeze. The lead bird had black tipped feathers that vibrated in his diminution of altitude as he swooped down to the crowning of the water. He skims his apical talons along the surface creating a v rippling behind him and his followers.
Directly below the ragged edge of the cliff that I stood upon, ten swimming figures motioned for my descent. I keep my eyes on the purple and orange hues of the darkening sky and took a few deep breaths. A nauseating sensation engulfed my entire being; my pounding hart leaped to my throat from the force of the accelerating fall.
Kurama sighed heavily glaring at the clock on the far wall. The slow ticks resonated off the bulged barriers of the tiny shop located in Tokyo. Vases of the finest arrangements were atop the highest shelves, and groups of flowers bundled in their own cone buckets raised themselves above the wooden floor on brass stilts. Various paintings and decorations hung neatly within the small shop; sale advertisements hung in the window. A brass cash register perched itself on the top of a large solid oak cabinet; stained to match the dark wood of the floor. Its main purpose was to complete the other accents in the room.
Though Kurama had many regular customers as well as walk-ins, days like today were fairly slow. It was raining heavily outside and little light accumulated in the streets; if it were not visibly raining you would have thought it to be dusk.
In one hand Kurama twirled a piece of his hair which fell in long, thick, crimson, locks down passed his shoulder blades. The long sleeves of his white cotton button down shirt bunched itself at the elbow as he leaned tiredly in his other palm. KuEnma had started to become "surprisingly" worried over the leaking demonic energy here in Tokyo. In an attempt to discover the reasoning of it all KuEnma had decided to send Kurama on nightly investigations- so sleep was in few and far between hours. As of yet, Kurama had discovered very little, other than the fact that most of the energy released seemed to be coming from a residential shrine.
A slight bell rang as his shop door opened. A girl dressed in dark clothing entered, closing the door gently behind her she folded her clear umbrella. She seemed a bit disoriented and out of breath. When their gazes met moments after her appearance she smiled brightly and approached the counter. In a slightly winded, but none the less excited tone she asked if Kurama owned the place. Of course he did, who else would. As the girl calmed herself she explained her situation. Today was her first day in Tokyo; she had been to several other flower shops looking for a specified kind of flower for her friend that she was staying with. For an American –as she had explained as well- she spoke fairly decent Japanese, though it was not fluid in nature; she spoke in plain and simple words. To Kurama it was obvious that the other florists had snubbed her for being from such a background; the girl on the other hand was clueless.
"And exactly what were you hoping to buy?" Kurama asked the younger woman.
"Two dozen short stem yellow roses, if you have them that is…" she pleaded as if they were a rarity, and truly here in Japan they were. Roses needed warmer weather, especially those lighter in color. Kurama nodded and left for the back room where he kept his bushes and plants that needed a heat lamp.
To be truthful Kurama had no yellow roses in stock, but he did keep an assortment of seeds neatly organized in the back (mostly for special orders for demons). With his keen eyes Kurama swiftly picked out a yellow rose seed and poured his demonic energy in to it. A plant under the growth of great demonic power such as the one Kurama possessed could grow a small seedling at exponential rates and become more beautiful -or deadly- than ever imaginable. It only took a minute or two for Kurama to grow and cut the individual rose stems. He then wrapped them before bringing them up to his American costumer.
She gawked at their beauty as he handed them to her. Petals yellow as the sun with bits of golden dust on the tips that sparkled in the warm glow of the room. The stems and leaves were of such a vibrant green and the few thorns that were protruding could never be a more profound purple. A slight dew cradled to each flower as if nurturing it still. It was Aphrodite herself that had carved them to perfection with Demeter.
"What did you say your name was again?" He was flattered by her wonder of the roses he so often created.
She looked up a bit surprised at the question, but smiled when she saw his genuine smile. "I did not say." Her voice trembled a bit with musical tones. "Is it not rued to ask ones name before properly introducing yourself? Or have such cordial actions been replaced?" She winked in a playful manner.
"My apologies Ma-am" He bowed slightly from behind the counter and continued to introduce himself. With a hand on his chest he replied, "My Name is Shuichi Minamino." Emerald green eyed gazed back at the human woman. "And yours?"
The girl bowed as well and introduced herself, "My name is Roslyn Craig. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Minamino." The girl stepped closer to the counter pulling a snap wallet out of her fairly large purse.
"Charmed." He stated watching her in amusement; he didn't get many women costumers, mostly men looking to impress their wives, or an eager boy hoping to have some extra fun. "If you don't mind me asking, Ma-am, why are you wearing sunglasses?"
"Sunglasses?" She glanced up confused.
Kurama pointed to her face remembering that she did not speak Japanese well and repeated "Sunglasses." In English this time. Even then it took her a minute to understand what he was saying, due to his thick accent; one she was unused to hearing.
"Umm…" She gasped a bit and quickly removed them stuffing the pair in to her bag. "I guess I forgot about them" She looked up at Kurama but never once made eye contact. Her eyes were brilliantly hazel in color that stood out against her pale skin, rouge cheeks, and ash brown hair. She was cute but her clothes were much too baggie and dark for her. Black jeans, black converse, and a black and red TightRope death metal band jacket- with sleeves that were much too long. She came off as a kind bubbly person like Botan, so why dress in such a way? He inquired to himself. She reached out to hand the allotted amount to him in yen. He stared at it for a minute and she shook it a bit impatiently.
"Keep it." He said. She waved it a little, hoping that he would take it. "No really" He insisted holding up an open hand in front of him.
She glared at him in a questionable manner. "I cannot just take them."
"You can and you may, Ma-am. It's after closing; I'm not selling any longer." He pointed to the clock on the far wall to indicate it was five past eight.
"Please stop calling me 'Ma-am', It makes me feel old, Mr. Minamino." She paused "If you won't let me pay for them, maybe there is something else I can do?"
With a sigh Kurama nodded. "Do you by any chance bake, Miss. Craig?"
"Yes."
"Well you see…" He began. "Every morning before I come here, I would stop at a café and purchase a muffin or doughnut, but in recent events I have not been able to."
"Well I'm not good with donuts, unless you like beignets. So what kind of muffin would you like?" She was blunt with her remarks and Kurama wondered if she was always this strait forward in her conversations when she spoke in English.
"Banana nut is my favorite." Kurama laughed coming out from behind the counter. He escorted the woman and her roses to the door. He opened her umbrella and gently put it in her free hand. She left, thanking him as he held the door.
The next morning was a surprisingly cool one for the month of June; it felt fresher in some way. Maybe it was because Kurama knew he would be receiving a delicious muffin this morning. Roslyn met him at the park with a dozen muffins. As he took hold of them he noted just how fresh they were. They were neatly packed in a wicker basket with a cotton cloth around them, and he could still feel the heat emanating from them. It was as If she pulled them out of her oven moments ago. The smell was over powering; the warming sent of sweet, sweet banana, nuts, and brown sugar challenged his hunger with every step. "I can taste them already." Kurama smiled down at her. For an American she was unusually short; taller than any of the Japanese girls, but still short.
The girl was all too eager to go back home. She said that she had not slept the night before, she said her friend had talked to her from the time she go home until dawn. "She loved the roses by the way." Roslyn grinned in her usual manner. "I don't think I've ever seen a woman so happy to see me." Kurama chuckled at her comment and continued to talk with her; mostly to see why she was in Japan. She answered all his questions the best she could; asking a few herself here and there.
Boy could she talk, even with a limited understanding of his language. He did notice however that she had many difficulties reading and writing the Japanese characters. How she did not get lost was beyond him.
Turns out she was from production studio in Portland. Her whole team would be coming along in a few weeks once the place they were shooting at was finished. She told me about her friends, family, and other various experiences she had in the field of art. She especially liked talking of a man named "Ryan" and her partner "Justin". For a human she was quite interesting to hear from. After all how often do you meet an independent film director from America?
They continued their conversation threw a city park that led to Kurama's shop. As the pair approached the door she suddenly became profoundly uneasy. She began to twist her dark sleeves of her band hoodie in a stacotic and vigorous fashion. "Is something wrong Miss. Craig?"
She thought about his question for a moment before answering. "No; not exactly." Doubt clung to every syllable of that sentence.
"Is there anything I can do?" It was a vague question, but meant in all honesty.
She looked up at Kurama and giggled a bit flashing a slight smile. "No, I just shouldn't have followed you so long. I began to raddled on and lost track of time." She huffed in an exasperated fashion.
"Would you have me call a cab for you to get back home?"
"No! That's alright; I can still catch a quick nap before I have to leave for the air port. But thank you for the offer." She was not as convincing as she would like to be. "You see I have to bring a few wedding guests to the house I'm staying in."
Kurama blinked at Roslyn's last statement. Was she for real? The reason she came early to Japan was to bring guests to a wedding party. "Are you a part of this wedding?"
"Oh yes, a big part. You could say that I practically planned the whole event." She seemed quite pleased with herself- as if were some kind of big achievement.
Soon after she left Kurama to his work and thanked him for the flowers…again. And he in return thanked her for the muffins- which were quite exquisite. After that all previous thoughts of Roslyn faded form Kurama's mind.
Thank you for reading
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All and any comments, concerns, and criticisms are welcome. The hate mail will be ignored unless stated in a nice-er way.
-Larry [Kony2012]