The entire store is buzzing with positive, healing energy the next time Sanae comes in. Momoka is overjoyed, dancing around the shop, and is more than happy to provide Sanae with a white clover seed, a pot to use, and even clears off a spot on the windowsill.
"Can you believe it?" Momoka sighs, wiping tears of joy from her eyes, "I came in today, and everything was beautiful! All of the plants were green and healthy, not a single one looks sickly! I even had a whole bunch of customers earlier. Thank you so much for everything you've done!"
Sanae smiles to herself as she buries the seed in the moist, potted soil and sets it in the sunlight. "I didn't do anything. You've been working so hard, I'm sure the plants wanted to do well for you."
"You're like my good luck charms!" Momoka goes on, and Sanae doesn't stop her, a happy warmth blooming in her chest. Moments like these make her job worthwhile. With the plants protected by her prayer, all that's left is for Sanae to track down the youkai. Momoka's shop will be saved, customers will come in droves, and then….
And then she'll have no reason to stay any longer.
She tries to focus on the positives.
"Hello, Shuuichi!" Momoka greets from the counter, and the boy pauses in the doorway, his expression that of complete shock and awe.
"Incredible," he murmurs, coming into the store and walking down an aisle of plants in full-bloom. Sanae steals a glance out of the corner of her eye and can't help but think of how natural he looks there. It's kind of ridiculous how graceful Shuuichi is, almost rivaling Reimu, she thinks. He shares a smile with Sanae before they both get their aprons on and begin restocking the shelves.
"I planted a white clover," she says, almost proudly, and Shuuichi beams.
"Did you? Where is it?"
"Over there," she gestures towards the window closest to the register. "I've never actually grown anything from scratch like this before. It's kind of exciting. I hope it turns out okay."
"I'm sure it will," he insists.
The other day, when Sanae collapsed in tears, Shuuichi never asked her what she was crying about, and she'd never told him. They'd silently agreed not to bring it up, no matter how curious or concerned his eyes were as he walked her back downtown to the bus stop.
"Here come customers!" Momoka says, hurrying around to the register, "Ah. When was the last time I said that?" She coughs.
Sanae looks at her. "Are you okay?"
"I'm great," Momoka smiles, covering her mouth when she does it again. "Sorry. Must've caught a cold. I'll wear a mask tomorrow."
"It's okay," Sanae says, but inwardly, she's thinking that it's anything but. She doubts it's a coincidence; she can feel a dark presence like a fog clinging to the shopkeeper. Whatever was killing the plants has now latched onto Momoka instead, and Sanae doesn't know how much time she has left. The flowers all wilted very quickly, and she suspects that Momoka will continue to get worse.
Shuuichi welcomes a customer and helps them find something. Another one comes in to make an order. Sanae runs through her mental checklist.
No ghosts; she's checked and double-checked already. It's presence isn't as loud or overbearing as an inugami, but is nonetheless stifling. The plants themselves aren't infested with anything. She's checked the ceiling for any sign of a tenjou-kudari, but there weren't any of those, either. The list has gotten much shorter, and really, she's running out of youkai.
"Sanae, could you grab me some more bags?" Momoka calls, and she hurries to comply with the request, rushing to the backroom. Every time she goes in, she thinks it would be the perfect hiding spot for a youkai, but she's there so frequently and has done so many purification rituals and miracle preparations back there that she can't imagine it could still be there. She comes back out with the bags and Momoka gratefully takes them.
There's a commotion at the front door when a couple of loud-mouthed boys come through, and then somebody yells, "Hey, Kurama!" Out of the corner of her eye, Sanae sees Shuuichi flinch, attention torn from the customer he was assisting. "Kurama," she hears again, and the boys approach him. When Sanae thinks of the word "delinquent," these are the kinds of people she pictures. Their school uniforms are disheveled, one with his hair gelled back and the other with a pompadour, and neither of them seem to know what an inside voice is, or how to use one.
Shuuichi hurriedly helps the customer before they're in arm's reach, and Sanae watches the exchange closely.
"Hey, Kurama, when did you start working at a flower shop?" the taller and rougher of the two asks. Shuuichi says something too softly for her to catch and a look of realization crosses his face. "Oh…sorry."
"Recently," Shuuichi says audibly, "I'm afraid I don't have a lot of time to talk right now."
"Hey, it's fine, we understand," the other one says with a shrug. He catches Sanae's eye and she hurriedly looks away and pretends to be busy. "Finally settle down with a girlfriend?"
"Coworker," Shuuichi corrects stiffly. Sanae pretends she's not listening. And that she's not disappointed. "Did you just come by to say hello, or is this business?"
"Nah, just thought we'd visit. Haven't seen you in a while." He leans in and lowers his voice. "Feels weird in here, man. A whole lot of energy from a bunch of different places."
"I know. That's why I'm here."
Sanae pauses. She hadn't realized that Shuuichi could sense it, too, or these punks, for that matter. It wasn't completely uncommon for ordinary humans to possess a bit of spiritual sensitivity, though she hadn't been expecting to find any.
She'd have to be even more careful.
By the time she's come out of her thoughts, the two boys are waving from the doorway and disappearing down the street, and Shuuichi comes over to her. "Sorry if you heard any of that," he says tiredly, though he's still smiling. "Old friends. We haven't talked in some time."
"I understand," Sanae says. And she does; she doesn't have any friends who are delinquents, though Marisa is awfully close. She certainly talks like one.
Sanae barely has time to breathe before half of Meiou's female population comes streaming through the door, and puts herself at a safe distance from Shuuichi to avoid the stampede. He doesn't look any happier than she does to see them, but Sanae doesn't see any reason to waste the opportunity.
"You know," she tells the girl closest to her, "If you want to be noticed, I bet a confession with flowers would work well."
"You think so?" the girl asks, and Sanae nods. She's certainly getting bolder, she thinks to herself.
"Of course. Do you know the language of flowers? You could pick something meaningful."
Several other girls within earshot hear the exchange and tear away from the group, following Sanae around the store like ducklings as she shows them some of the more popular flowers before making their choices. Sanae thinks she deserves a promotion.
"Red tulips are a declaration of love," she says, "Lilacs mean first love. And, of course, roses are the traditional choice."
She remembers sitting at Reimu's kotatsu with Marisa and Youmu, when the other shrine maiden suddenly admitted that she knew the language of flowers. "What?" Marisa had exclaimed, followed by raucous laughter, "Seriously? Wow, I didn't take you for a romantic."
"The language of flowers isn't always about romance," she'd insisted, but she was blushing in embarrassment.
"Well, tell us a few," Youmu had urged, and so she had.
Sanae is determined to be like Reimu the same way overeager younger siblings strive to be like their elders, but it's a deep, dark secret. So what if she's been studying up on it since Reimu first told them? Nobody has to know.
The entire crowd is dispersed this way, though Sanae knows that Shuuichi will probably have more flowers and confessions than he knows what to do with tomorrow. She's about to tease him about it when she's practically paralyzed in shock—she feels the youkai on the move. Shuuichi is left looking expectant as she turns on her heel and runs to the back corner of the shop furthest from the window the potted clover rests on, peering through foliage and around shelves.
It's close. It's so close. She sees movement out of the corner of her eye, something darting into the backroom, and gives chase, dashing after it. She's in the doorway, staring at a dark, mangy mass of fur and two little, pathetic eyes but its form flickers and fades and then it's gone again.
She wants to scream. She almost had it!
But she calms down because she knows she has a bit more research to do, because to be perfectly honest, she has absolutely no idea what the hell that thing was.
She hears cautious footsteps behind her and looks over her shoulder at Shuuichi, whose expression has changed from shock to something else. "Sorry," she chokes, completely unprepared and lacking a good excuse, "I thought…I thought I saw a mouse."
She sees it then; his eyes narrow ever so slightly and they glint dangerously. He doesn't believe her.
"Oh," he says. He smiles, but it looks forced now. "You scared me."
"Sorry," she says again. She tries to get around him, but he doesn't move.
"What did it look like?" he asks, voice low.
Shuuichi Minamino is not a scary person. "Scary" is probably the absolute last word Sanae would ever use to describe him. But there's just something about his eyes now and the look on his face, and Sanae can't say exactly what it is, but it's not what she ever thought she would see there. It's a lot older than him, or her, old enough that she realizes she's not going to be able to sneak past him as she has others. Somehow, this is not the same Shuuichi she was talking to earlier about white clovers.
"It looked," she pauses, struggling to keep her breathing even under his scrutiny, "Like a mouse."
Shuuichi smiles again and it's lacking in the warmth it held before. He finally steps out of the way, and she scurries past him.
They don't make eye contact again for the rest of the day.