Sometimes Flowers Bloom On Faults

A Recca no Honoo fanfic

By Tenshi no Ai


I do not own the characters within the story. I mean, what am I gonna do with a Domon?


(A/N: 5/5...Fic featuring Ishijima Domon! Happy birthday to the oni' of the Hokage!)

(A/N: Dedicated to any and all Domon fans...especially The Blue Sorceress [I'm sorry that you couldn't read the copy I sent because of my precious Rui-kun, my lovely iMac]!)



Thirteen-year-old Ishijima Domon lumbered into the Hana no Ishijima', tracking mud from his most recent fight, the location this time being the soccer field. His school uniform was ripped in several places, dirty in others. The spots of blood that stained his white shirt was not his own. His knuckles were red and feeling sore, but he was used to that. A large bruise was threatening to form on his left cheekbone, but he would've been the first to say that his face was ugly enough as it was, so what did a bruise matter?

Still, he made for a terrifying sight for all the customers currently in the flower shop, and most of them discreetly inched towards the exit at his arrival.

Ishijima Ayako, owner of the flower shop and Domon's mother, roared as soon as she turned her head away from the cooler where all the various orders were kept in. She had been trying to find a neighbor's arrangement for a son's business offer when her own son had made his imposing entrance; of course, that customer was long gone now. In angered annoyance at the occurrence of her customers escaping because of her son, she stormed up to the giant adolescent, as much in his face as she could get with her stout frame. How many times have I told you not to get into fights! How MANY?

Domon was tired from his fights and sick of his mom screaming at him for things that he didn't start, you say a lot of things, like why don't you do more for the shop?' and I thought I told you to deliver this potted flower hours ago,' and...

THAT'S NOT WHAT I'M SAYING! the older Ishijima erupted. Any lingering buyers left at this war cry, and with good reason. If her son was known for beating the crap out of anyone who was stupid enough to start something with him, then Ayako was known for her sheer scariness when dealing with all that got in her way. Most of the time, this meant her son. All you ever do is FIGHT! This store has been in our family for three generations, and I'm not going to have some musclehead like you destroy all that! Go up to your room and stay there!

Domon blinked. Hn, needed a nap anyway... he walked past his fuming mother, then an idea clicked when he reached the first step of the stairs. He turned around. Hey, what about dinner?

What about dinner? Ayako's voice held a dangerous tone, almost seductive in its promise for deadly retaliation if her challenge was met. Naturally, her son went on, not noticing the subtle hint.

Well, yeah, what about... At this point, Domon chose to look his mother in the eye. He recognized that fiery, almost crazed fury in her eyes. Too often nowadays, he felt that same fury in himself.

So, he did the smart thing. He did what his mother told him.

~*~


Two days after the last Ishijima skirmish, five women primly stepped into the Hana no Ishijima. The weather was warm, with May about to step off the stage for June, but these ladies were anticipating the upcoming winter. Except for their faces, their skin was completely covered, which was probably a good thing. Compared to Ishijima Ayako, one would be hard pressed to find an attractive one out of the bunch of them.

They were the neighborhood association.

one of the ladies called out in a thin voice. Ayako turned from examining the structure of one of the clay pots and inwardly groaned. Whenever the neighborhood association decided to leave their comfortable homes and converge on their prey, it would inevitably turn out like a flock of vultures attacking at carrion. Except, at least the carrion didn't have to feel the constant pecks and rending of its flesh.

Still, Ayako held her ground. She was a true Ishijima in that respect.

We might as well state our business, a cold-looking woman began to speak, but the flower shop owner held out a hand.

I'm sure this has to do with my son, so just tell me straight. What has he done now?

All of the women in the pack were taken aback by the straightforwardness displayed. A woman shorter than Ayako regained her voice first. Well, Ishijima-san, it's not what he's done now', it's more of all the things he has done.' It adds up, you realize this?

Calmly, Ayako nodded. Yes, I know.

Yes, well, what we don't know is why you let him do this, another woman, chubby and with an unpleasant expression, interjected. Ayako's resulting glare could've wilted all the flowers in her shop.

We've come to a conclusion, the horde seem to have scripted this confrontation so that each of the five would have the chance to speak, for now a painfully thin woman began her spiel, and until your son stops being a menace to our neighborhood, our city, we have no choice but to boycott your store.

Boycott...my shop? The normally fearless mother of Domon was reduced to a girl with fear touching upon her words.

The neighborhood association nodded at the same time, just one quick, curt movement of the head, and then they turned and walked out of the small shop. The livelihood of the Ishijima family. It had been there for three generations, and Ayako wasn't going to let some musclehead ruin it for her.

But now...

That boy... she lowered her head, fists clenching into tight little fists by her side, ...that BOY...

~*~


The first thing that Ishijima Domon noticed was that the Closed' sign was showing. This didn't worry him until he heard five bells ring in the distance. Even so, he figured that his mother was just in the bathroom or something. If she could, she would've had the place open twenty-four hours a day.

He reached for the doorknob, and found that it was locked.

This discovery sent warning alarms shrieking in his head. Turn over the sign, close the door...he could picture her doing that.

But she never locked the door until he came home.

A thick point of worry stabbed into his gut, twisting a few times for added measure. What had happened? Was his mother in the hospital, fighting for her life at this very moment while he blankly tried to turn the knob again and again? Did someone try to rob the store while he was off, getting into yet another fight? Hey, so sometimes she nagged and complained and just all out bitched for him to get his act together. So what? She was his mom, and he was worried about her.

Suddenly, Domon remembered that he had a key in the *highly unlikely* situation that the door was actually closed and locked before he arrived from school. He retrieved it from his pants pocket, and quickly inserted the key and turned the knob before more morbid thoughts about his mother invaded his mind.

The door swung open.



Domon frowned. That sounded a lot like his own mother, but she never called him by his name. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Even though it was still completely bright outside, inside was dark. He could see the shape of some plants before the door cut off all the outside light.

ptch!

The light switch was flipped, and there was light. The giant squinted. he rumbled out. He could see the short, stocky shape of his mother stride on towards him. The momentary flash of relief he felt was soon overtaken by the gnawing feeling that something was *very* wrong.

this wraith softly called out, and nervousness hit deep in his bowels when he realized that his mother was far more enraged than she ever had a right to be. Some children may want to be called by their first name by their parents; however, Domon knew that it would be his death sentence.

Domon, we're going to have a very long talk...

~*~


So, tell them that you don't want their business anyway. Screw them. Their kids come after me. I'm just defending myself, the young teenager snorted, feeling indignant about the situation that he was just told by his highly unstable mother. She glowered at him for his unreasonable answer, and he immediately shut up.

That's all well and good, but we've been in this neighborhood since my ojiisan moved to here from Aizu, Ayako's reply was clipped in the wake of her newfound anger, we've been here longer than some current members of the neighborhood association has, but we've always worked with them. A-L-W-A-Y-S, this was enunciated very slowly in front of her son's face, so, if everybody's just going after you and you're just protecting yourself, then we're going to have to get you away from that situation.

Domon pouted. So why am I getting punished like it's my...

Shut up.



Ayako pointed up at the face of her son. From now on, you're going to come home immediately after school. If you aren't here by three-thirty, I will find you and drag you home. And once you're here, a thin smile spread across her under appreciated features, you're going to be put to work, boy.

~*~


My fingers hurt, Domon whined for the tenth time in an hour. This was the first afternoon that Ishijima Ayako's new system for her son was being implemented. So, she set him to twist floral tape over wire so she could make some arrangements. He would often drop the small pieces of wire between his large, clumsy hands, complaining afterward how ridiculous the whole thing was and how he'd rather fight off huge groups of people intent on teaching him a lesson.

Ayako's eyes hurt from all the glaring she had to do.

Well, you better get used to it boy, because you'll be doing it a lot.

Domon swore under his breath as another wire sprung out of his hands.

~*~


Whaddaya mean, I gotta make the arrangements? That's YOUR job!

Get to work, boy.



~*~


But I wanna deliver the arrangements! I wanna go outside!

Boy, shut up. And arrange the leaves more evenly in the oasis.



~*~

Hey, we're starting to get customers back! Now can I go outside and deliver the arrangements?

...Give it another two weeks. I don't want you to screw it up now! Hey, those are expensive containers! Don't crush them with your klutzy brutish hands!



~*~


At the end of six months, Ishijima Domon was a changed man.

He no longer was a part of the daily fighting life in Nagogiri City. This was good for the other vicious teenagers because they didn't inevitably stumble home with massive injuries or wake up in the hospital.

The Hana no Ishijima's business was blooming in late December, even with the unavailability of popular staple flowers like roses and lilies. This was due to the fact that more customers stayed inside the shop and didn't run away because of the scary sight that Domon the Oni made, his already tall frame slightly hunched over in the doorway, knuckles dripping with other people's blood. Now Ishijima Domon sat in his own little workshop area and looked almost content as he placed Baby's Breath in just the right spot in the arrangement. This made for a much better image on the behalf of the tiny shop.

Domon himself had changed quite a bit. Working with the flowers had given him a more peaceful outlook. He was involved in less fights at school and on the streets, but he still was known as the Oni' by the vast population that had fought him. He didn't realize the change that had come upon him, but his mother did, and she was satisfied.

Perhaps her son wouldn't turn into just another musclehead idiot, but would make something of himself...

~*~


Fourteen-year-old Ishijima Domon stumbled into the Hana no Ishijima, tracking in gravel because he couldn't move his foot up enough to actually step' into the store. Nasty purple bruises had already formed on both cheekbones. There were multiple slashes along his bare arms--bare arms because he was wearing the summer uniform of his junior high--some of which were still bleeding, others already scabbing over. As he shuffled into the store on a sunny May day, all the customers were contemplating whether to run or not. But with one look at the expression on his face, they shrugged and went back to admiring certain floral designs.

Ishijima Ayako stared mutely at her son as he shuffled his way into the shop, towards his workshop. Even though he looked like someone who was checked out of the hospital too soon, the expression on his face was one of utter, complete peace. Only those who had seen a god or goddess, or mental patients could possibly emulate such a blissful, content look.

Ayako quietly stood over her son as he began to twist floral tape onto a wire, the same look of complete contentment pasted on his face, What happened? Didn't I tell you not to get into fights?

Domon sighed happily. Every bruise, all the scratches...it was all worth it...just because I was touched by *her*...

his mother probed. Despite his excessive growth rate and deepening voice, she couldn't believe that he was taking a new step into puberty. Domon grinned, holding a completed wire.

Yeah...the fighting goddess, Kirisawa Fuuko...and she wants me to help her beat down some ninja idiot named Hanabishi something-or-the-other...maybe she'll give me a kiss after I win...? Domon's grin was reaching epic proportions on his wide face. Ayako considered batting him across the head and screaming at him for even thinking about getting into another fight and actually *telling* her about it, but then she just shook her head and left him to his pipe dreams.

After all, he was still a young teenager, might as well let him have his fun.

~*~

A little over two years later, Ishijima Ayako began to rethink her optimism.


~Owari~


Domon is cool. Sod off if you don't like him...^_^ Seriously though, there should be more Domon fics! And I'm not just saying that because his birthday is two days after my own...I'm a legal adult in America now! Well, sorta. Anyway, I just wanted to portray the differences between Domon the Oni and hana-ya Domon (flower shop Domon). And Mother's Day is coming soon, hence the feature of Domon's mom (eh, Ayako is a good name). Third person is odd to write, but I've been working on a *really* long one-shot fic (33 pages, 10,000 words and still counting) for the last week or so which is entirely in third-person, so it kinda rubbed off. Besides, for me, trying to get into Domon's POV is hard...probably because I'm a girl.

For the life of me, I can't remember how old Domon was when he met Fuuko...but 14 sounds about right to me...about 8th grade or so, yes?

Anyway, I hope you liked this fanfic! And if you haven't read the epilogue to I Will Find You...what are you waiting for? It's been done for a week already!