AN : Hey guys, this might take a while for me to update again. My mental health is not really what it used to be. It went as far as to affect me physically, and the worse is that I'm put under so much stress anxiety is getting to me again. Currently, I've experienced anxiety fits and near constant breathlessness, and the skin on my hands is one hairbreadth from breaking. Final nail is that I busted my hand out of frustration. It took a lot of effort for me to have been able to write these past weeks, and I did try my best.

But please don't mind me and enjoy.

Chapter Two - Acclimatisation

Harry lasted three entire months believing that Quirks were magic before he learnt that no, they aren't. He did not even learn the fact by himself. Hermione, Ron and him were doing their usual three-way conversation over the ConvOrb, the new crystal balls that allowed people to talk in real time as long as they tuned in the correct wavelength - that essentially worked like cellphones except that they did not short-circuit whenever someone performed magic nearby - courtesy of a one time collaboration between the Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes store and Luna Lovegood. Luna did always have amazing and odd bizarre ideas that still made sense.

Hermione was asking him how he was doing, especially now that he was in charge of an entire shop, without much experience in customer retail services. He answered very truthfully.

"I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing and sometimes clients are either rude, super eccentric, or don't know what they're searching for. If Nakamura-san was not here with me, I'm pretty sure I'd already have set the shop on fire, with me inside. Thank Merlin for having his back healed completely already. Really. Just this morning, a dude just barged in with a hyper realistic horse mask, and asked in a hurry for roses. Lots of them in all the colours we had. Nakamura-san had to get up from his chair to bargain with the rose bushes to supply us more to last for the rest of the day. Guess who's getting an extra dose of fresh manure?"

Hermione and Ron laughed at his dismayed face. "I told you that it would be difficult to manage your own shop," Ron chortled. "Fred and George were near mental meltdowns almost everyday."

The mention of the twins sobered them all. George had badly taken his twin's death. He had had troubles falling asleep and avoided mirrors like the plague. Harry had tried to make him leave England as well, just to escape their home land, but George had insisted to hold up his brother's legacy. Harry would have stayed back as well, if Andromeda had not convinced him that he was free now. She was a strong woman, she proved them all. Teddy also had difficulties being separated from her, but Harry tried his damn best to be able to see his godson as often as possible. Andromeda had confided that Teddy could get a little grumpy if Harry did not ConvOrb'd them every other day.

Harry hurried to dissipate the tension. "Hey, 'Mione?" he called.

His friend huffed in indignation. Her name was nice as it was. No need to butcher it so much, yet Harry still did to get a rise out of her. It was just tradition now.

"I know that Ron and you are in Australia to find your parents, but did you find the magical community there? I'm kind of curious about other cultures nowadays, especially since I noticed that magic is quite liberal in Japan, while Germany and India weren't as open. At most, the more rural areas in India accepted magical people, like seers or general spellcasters, but I didn't have the opportunity to explore more and learn about their beliefs about magicals."

"I'm glad you asked, Harry! As you already know, I've been able to pinpoint the approximate location where my parents currently live, so we took some time off from our search," Hermione was positively vibrating in her seat, as Ron got up, probably to get the kettle which had started whistling sometimes during Hermione's excited verbal onslaught. "And we found the whereabouts of magicals. We had planned on visiting tomorrow. From what I gathered, the Australian community in the cities is still closed off. Which makes me think. Harry, isn't magical Japan strict about magic use?"

"I don't know, 'Mione. Nakamura-san is pretty okay at using his magic to talk to his plants. Sometimes, villains, as they call them here, attack the city or the citizens and heroes come in to save the day. I must admit that it's quite refreshing to be able to count on professionals to save you. But they all use magic, I think. There's Endeavor who typically uses fire, as well as Present Mic - didn't I tell you about him? That guy is awesome! - who's got a Voice Quirk. They call magic Quirks, isn't that funny?"

Hermione stared at him for a few seconds, her jaw slack with disbelief. Harry felt like an idiot, and he did not even know why. Hermione always had this kind of effect on Ron and him. She was usually well documented and educated, even on the weirdest subjects, so Harry guessed he had made a mistake. Perhaps had he mispronounced something? He had this bizarre habit of saying something but thinking of something else, and he normally never noticed unless someone told him. He thought that he had grown out of it.

"Harry, are you aware of the fact that Quirks are not magic?" she asked him, a tiny frown adorning her face, her fuzzy hair almost rising with what seemed to be astonishment, almost like Crookshanks' fur when he was surprised.

It took him a moment to understand properly what Hermione had just revealed to him. The horror dawned on him quickly after his epiphany.

"You mean," he whispered, his throat tight, "that all what Nakamura-san was doing, the plants, the roses, heck the hydrangeas and the sunflowers! That was not magic? What the hell... But - but Endeavor! That looks too much like well controlled Fiendfyre for it not to be a spell." He knew he was rambling, but the fact that the Heroes he looked up to as fellow magic casters actually didn't use magic was mind-boggling.

He started giggling uncontrollably, so hard that his ribs felt like they would collapse on themselves. His throat was on fire, as he struggled to calm himself down to answer Hermione's concerned questions. Vaguely, he could hear Ron question in the background whether he had lost his marbles, or was that normal behaviour, the clinking of porcelain indicating that he had come back with cups. Harry wished he could get himself a cup of tea to soothe his frayed nerves.

"Ron, you don't understand," he hiccuped with difficulty. "There was a man-horse who asked me for roses. A man with a horse head. I don't even know if he was just wearing a mask or if it was the result of a Quirk. A girl with pincers for hands had menaced Nakamura-san and me. And that boy had perfectly square cranium. What is even that word? It sounds so strange. Cranium." He dissolved into another fit of laughter, unable to hold in his giggles. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes and slowly slipped down his face, as he slowly drowned external sounds with his own thoughts.

He was able to breathe and think properly after several long and painful minutes.

Hermione and Ron were patiently waiting for him. Harry felt the heat in his cheeks rise up a few more degrees. Thankfully, his friends could deal with him, even at his worst, so a bit of hysterical laughter was nothing to them. They knew that talking to him in this state would only have aggravated the situation, and could do not much more than wait for him to calm himself down. Harry had never taken well to human touch during his meltdowns.

Hermione quickly changed the subject. She obviously could sense that Harry needed a break and some time to process the new information he was given and recalibrate his world.

"Have you gotten the book about flower language I've sent to you? I've myself taken a look at it, and while flowers are not my thing, the story and emotions that can be conveyed through non-verbal communication and gifts is a work of art. I wish you could say something like 'Rendez-vous at eight sharp, location Trafalgar Square and bring a knife'. It'd have been both funny and quite useful to decipher such messages," Hermione uttered almost too quickly for Harry and Ron to follow.

Her boyfriend piped up. "Muggles can't do that? Magical morning glories - the kind that threw up acid on you if you're not careful - were commonly used as a way to challenge an opponent into a formal duel, with the loser's wand at stake. That had been some decades since it was last trendy. Nowadays we just go up to who we want to find with a contract. It's easier, quickly, and won't wilt as fast."

That was some surprising information.

Now, Harry wished that they had something that would express his sentiment of the moment. He was in the presence of a huge man. He felt so damn tiny, a sensation he was not used to, back in England. He was tall among his peers, but he was totally dwarfed by the man, who introduced himself as Yagi Toshinori. Not only was he tall, but he looked quite intimidating as well. Prominent bags shadowed his eyes, which were quite possibly the bluest eyes that Harry have ever seen, set into a tired face. The bright blond hair looked soft however. Harry wanted to run his hands through the long bangs that looked like floppy rabbit ears.

He probably would like something that went along the lines of "Help I don't know if it's a gentle giant, or if I'll be crushed under a boot soon".

Harry very hesitantly chirped a "Welcome to The Green Stalk. How may I help you today?"

The man was asking for a carnation bouquet, specifically for striped ones. They had only a few of them in the store, since they were not quite popular. But Harry was able to catch the meaning behind. They usually represented refusal.

The poor man. Or perhaps was he oblivious to the meaning of the flowers. Harry had been studying flower language for only a short while, and could remember basic meanings, so he was maybe mistaken and Yagi simply liked the flowers. They were quite lovely, if Harry could say so. Or perhaps was he biased because he had lent a helping hand growing these exact same flowers.

Carefully, he plucked a handful of them from the display pots, going back to the table for the making of the bouquet. He had at first been clumsy at his attempts, but over the time, he got the technique, although he was still slow. At least now he could make some mean arrangements. He had to, or he would have to suffer the disappointed mentor gaze coming from Nakamura and he could not possibly live with the guilt of having failed the expectations of the old man since he had been the one who taught Harry how to wrap the flowers and sort them.

He chattered amiably with Yagi as he worked on the bouquet. The man was pleasant, even if his height was still somewhat unsettling, but Harry had known Hagrid since he was eleven - the shocking element was still in play as Harry had the faint impression that Yagi was taller than even Hagrid. They had settled on a very plain ribbon and silvery wrapping paper. Harry entertained the thought of asking for what occasion Yagi was buying flowers. He quickly squished the thought. He was not working there to pry into other person's matters, he was doing only his job so this information would be unnecessary.

Harry had to admit that he was quite curious however. The tall man had mentioned that he was working in a Hero agency. He also mentioned cats and the conversation devolved into a debate about cats versus dogs. Yagi argued with some solid points, but Harry had the advantage of not dying due to allergies every time he went near a canine friend. Plus he had the experience with Crookshanks.

Harry was still meeting weird people, and welcoming back regulars. Yagi became made several more appearances in the store, although he was in a hurry most of the time. Harry would have loved to hear more from him. However, as time passed, Harry became better and better at floral arrangements and Yagi's visits were shortening. They still held friendly conversations, which did not exceed ten minutes most of them time.

And Harry was right. Yagi had no idea which flowers meant what. He had wanted to go see a student -apparently he worked part time for his Hero agency while still teaching at a high school. What an amazing man! - at the hospital after they injured themselves during training. With orange roses. And coriander flowers. Which in itself is an incredibly odd and rare combination. Both of them could mean lust. Which was coincidental.

Harry almost broke something from trying not to laugh, since he knew that this particular student was like his own child to Yagi. Instead of bursting into laughter and embarrassing Yagi, Harry gently taught him what they actually represented. He had not known that someone could blush and cough up a terrifying amount of blood at the same time. He also freaked out. He had almost reached for the phone at the counter when Yagi grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Oh god, I did not mean to alarm Harry-san," sputtered Yagi as he attempted to talk between coughs. Harry guided him to the chair behind the counter, sat him down gently, one hand groping behind his back to reach for the bell that usually rested near the register. Nakamura had told Harry that his plants would relay messages to him if it was urgent enough and trained them to respond to the chime of the bell.

"I'm used to this already. I've got a medical condition and this is only a side effect of a surgery," Yagi muttered weakly.

The admission lead to them planning a lunch together because Yagi was feeling guilty for making Harry worry even more. They exchanged phone number (Harry had to buy one as Nakamura had requested that he could contact him in times of need. Like when juvenile delinquents would try to rob him) after some awkward shuffling and Harry trying to wipe off the blood still on Yagi's chin, resulting in another spurt of blood with a faint groan from the blond.

Nakamura refused politely, saying that he "did not want to intrude" then took his leave. The old man was tending to his friends upstairs when Harry called him, and generously brought down tea for them, setting the tray down to scamper away as Harry tried his best to accommodate Yagi.

Thankfully, it was not a busy day, even if it was bad for business, but at least Harry had the opportunity to keep an eye on Yagi as he sipped on his tea -delighful, with a mist of cream and a tiny dollop of honey- as the man slowly recovered from his blood vomit spree. Harry noticed that he surprisingly took his tea with milk and sugar. He had expected him to drink it black and hard.

Yagi regained some colours after a few minutes pleasantly spent drinking their beverages. Harry observed him from the corner of his eye, trying to judge whether it was wise to accompany him to a clinic or allow him to visit his student then go get himself checked out at the hospital. However, Yagi seemed to be doing much better, so Harry asked him, and the answer horrified him.

"Are you alright now? Should I call a doctor? Or do you have any kind of medicine that can help you?" he questioned, the worry making him become much more inquisitive.

"Oh, it's quite alright. I'm used to having these kinds of fits, even if the blood is a bit newer. Getting blood off my clothes the first time had been a funny, yet traumatizing experience. I'll get myself checked out at the hospital if it allows you a clearer conscience," Yagi replied.

It was quite possibly a bad idea to tell Harry that the blood was not Yagi's usual symptoms, as he fussed and Yagi was prompted into promising to keep him updated on his health as soon as he got back home.

The tall man left quick enough, after being reminded one last time of the lunch he had given his word for and taking with him a bouquet of gladiolus -which Harry found much more fitting, because of the remembrance and strength the flowers are supposed to symbolize- and leaving Harry alone with the thought that it seemed that he had been able to make a friend.

Coincidentally, Nakamura chose that exact time to come back downstairs - for a man who had just recently strained his back, Nakamura sure could climb the stairs often - to seat himself in his cozy sofa he had Harry bring down when the chair he usually sat on proved to be too uncomfortable to use during his recovery, and regarded Harry with a critical eye.

Harry fidgeted under his gaze, feeling suddenly awkward. Nakamura probably had asked his green friends relay the conversation to him, and even if Harry did nothing wrong, he still felt somewhat guilty. He got up abruptly. "I'll bring the tea tray upstairs. Can you watch over the shop for a few moments Nakamura-san?"

He scuttled away before Nakamura even opened his mouth, but he still heard him mutter under his breath and felt heat rise up his cheeks and in his ears, "At least he could have made worse choices for a relationship."