Chapter 48 - Indigo Hyacinth

After a quiet, quiet breakfast, Saturday morning, Ino took Yakata to the flower shop. She didn't ask questions, and was sparing in her other words.

(Nadeshiko had told her everything when she came by to see if everything was all right, already knowing that Yakata had been brought home.)

She left him there, and returned home, quickly.

Nadeshiko was waiting for him.

"I'm glad you're here. Could you come to the back room with me and help with a few things?" she said.

"Yeah, of course…" Yakata said.

Inoichi looked up, waved weakly at him as he passed, but otherwise stayed at the till, buried in his magazine.

The workspace was very clean that day. "Have you, um. Not done any of the orders yet to-today…?"

"No, I've already done them. This is different."

"O-oh, I… I see…"

The air was very heavy, and humid. "No ribbons today, Yakata." She pulled out the stool for him before she sat down, herself.

And Yakata noticed—how could he have not seen them before?—a vase of marigolds sitting in the corner of the table, all reds and sun-yellows and oranges.

Nadeshiko began to work. Yakata sat, hands on his lap, watching.

And then she spoke. "Did you know, I have a flower for everyone… important to me?"

He shook his head, quickly, almost nervously. "N-no, I didn't. What do you, what do you mean, though?"

She blinked. Not looking at him. "When I want to give a gift to someone, I usually use flowers that fit them."

"Like, like, like the language, right?"

"Mm. You did something like that yourself, with that… gift you gave me."

(Nestled next to the rose.)

"Oh, oh, well, I, I uh, I just thought…" Yakata's fingers tangled into each other. "W-well, see, your… your name is a flower, y'know, dianthus, an'… an' I thought it'd show I was… y'know, thinking of you. When I made it. I, I guess that was kind of dumb…"

"But it got the message across," she said. Her voice was just so rightly gentle. "And I appreciated it very much."

"Ah, well, um…" He stared at the leg of her stool.

"It's… sort of the same thing, with me. It lets them know I'm thinking about them, not just… creating art for art's sake." Carefully, carefully, she reached for a yellow marigold and tucked it into place within her hands. "My sister Karai is the foxglove."

(Foxglove: insincerity, ambition.)

Yakata looked up. "Foxglove? But, ah, why…?"

"It suits her."

Down. "Ah…"

"And Inou is daphne."

(Daphne: desire to please, shyness.)

Another marigold, with a muscle-red center. "Takeru is… clematis."

(Clematis: mental beauty, ingenuity.)

"And Hajime, my oldest brother. He is the lemon blossom."

(Yakata did not know that one.)

"Lemon blossoms, for fidelity and discretion," Nadeshiko said, almost whispering.

His face felt warm, and it was not the heat in the room. It was getting harder to breathe.

"Of course, I haven't… forgotten my parents. I've wanted to have a plum tree put in the back yard, for my mother, but…"

(Plum: courage, happiness, duty through hardship.)

Yakata had to gasp to make sure he was still breathing. "A-and your… your father?"

"…anemones."

(Abandonment.)

(He only knew this because she had told him this, days before, when making a bouquet of commiseration requested by a woman for her friend.)

("A husband should never walk out on a wife like that, not ever, not ever.")

(But those were not Nadeshiko's words.)

All he could stand to look at was her hands. Her fingers glowed with petals.

And she said, with so much warmth in her voice, "I… still don't know which flower to pick for you."

That made him look up again. She was smiling, gently, though her eyes were half-closed, almost sleepily.

"Y-you have a flower for… for me…?"

"Not yet. But you deserve one." She finally looked at him, away from her hands. "At least, I think so."

"Oh, gosh, I…" He couldn't tell if he was smiling or grimacing. His heart almost hurt, it was beating so quickly. "Why are you, um. Wh-why are you t-telling me this, anyways, Nadeshiko-san…?"

("I'll explain everything then. I promise.")

He had to swallow to keep his throat from growing too dry. "D-d-does this have anything to, to do with…?"

She lowered her head, slowly, and raised it. A nod. "I have flowers for everyone important to me. Marigolds are Shusuke's flower."

(Marigolds: health, joy, remembrance.)

"Shusuke…? Wh-who is he?"

The arrangement in her hands was small, maybe the size of a grapefruit, and unusually simple, for her, carrying nothing but marigolds. She had wrapped them in paper. "We're going to visit him today."

She stood, flowers in hand. She began to leave.

And Yakata had to follow.

Inoichi didn't even look up as they left, together.

Yakata could feel his mouth shaking, slightly. He pressed his lips against each other, more tightly, but it didn't help.

He had to follow, had to (trust) follow her.

They walked for a very long time, into an area of the city that he didn't know. It seemed like a tired place. Paint peeled off the walls of the buildings. Shop fronts had signs that looked like they hadn't been updated in years.

Eventually, they entered an apartment building, up the stairs, to the fourth floor. The lights in the hallway of carpet like moss were a dull yellow.

Nadeshiko found a door, and knocked on it. Yakata hung behind her.

A woman answered, after a while. Her hair was brown and wispy and piled high and messily; her bangs fell into her face. She looked as tired as the building in which she lived. "…ah, Nadeshiko-san. So good to see you."

"Good afternoon, Kugi-san." She bowed, slightly. Yakata was frozen. "I'm here with the usual." Out of the bouquet she took one marigold, an orange one.

The woman took it, and she held it very close and very carefully to her face, closing her eyes. She brushed the petals against her eyes.

"I appreciate it, always. Thank you." Her head tilted sideways, and she put the flower down, and opened her eyes. They were brown, Yakata saw, and would have been beautiful if she were smiling. "A friend?"

"Yes. I'm taking him with me to visit Shusuke."

When the woman did smile, it only made her eyes sadder. "And how old are you, little friend?"

"T-ten, ma'am."

"Ah. Just a little too young…" She sighed. "I think he'll like having someone so small visiting, though. He must be so lonely. Thank you, Nadeshiko-san."

"I'll see you next week, Kugi-san," Nadeshiko replied. She bowed again. "Come on, Yakata-kun."

He followed her, uneasily, as Kugi closed the door behind them.

Further along, he finally asked, "Ah, um, who was, who was that…?"

"Shusuke's mother. I like to give her something for her home every time I visit. Something to make her house a little brighter."

"Ah, I, I see…" Yakata kept his eyes on his feet as they walked further. "Um, this, this Shusuke…san. That we're going to visit? Where does he, um, live…?"

Nadeshiko didn't reply.

He continued to follow her, his stomach slowly filling more and more with stones.

And then they arrived.

Shusuke lived in a graveyard.

The air was very quiet and the sky was very blue and very hot.

But Yakata felt very, very cold. And the tighter he pressed his lips together the more undeniable it was to him that his teeth were starting to chatter.

Nadeshiko moved on with the same purpose in her step that he had seen in the hallway of the apartment building.

And then they found him.

His gravestone was very modest, just a stone marker with his name carved on it, the year he was born, the year he died. It was, however, kept very clean.

Nadeshiko stood for a very long time in front of it, with her eyes closed.

And, eventually, she put the flowers down, kneeling to the ground as she did so.

(Marigolds: grief, constancy, misery.)

Nadeshiko took a small box of incense and a fold of matches out of her purse, and she took care to light one stick and place it in a holder.

She clapped her hands together, bowed her head, and in pulling them apart and folding them in her lap, she began to speak.

"Hello, Shusuke. I brought a friend today to visit with me. I hope you don't mind."

(Yakata remained standing.)

"His name is Yakata. I've told you about him, once or twice. He's a very good boy."

(Nadeshiko kept marigolds in her window planter.)

"He even gave me flowers, after I last visited with you. To cheer me up. Isn't that something."

(Marigolds were Shusuke's flowers.)

"Things have been up and down, since. But I suppose they're getting better."

(But Shusuke was dead.)

"Na-Na-Na-Nadeshiko-san, this, this Shusu—who is he?"

Her hair, brushing the ground where she knelt, almost sitting, seemed to blend into the fabric of her skirt.

"A boy I once knew."

She had her head bowed very, very lowly.

(Marigolds: remembrance.)

And Yakata got on his knees too, carefully, and slowly, as it hit him. The dirt pressed into his skin.

"O-oh, no, Nadeshi—I'm so sorry, I'm… what, what happened to him?"

She had her eyes closed. "I did."

His arm, so close to touching her back, froze, stiff. "Wh-wh-wh-what do you…"

("I don't let people near me for a reason.")

"Nadeshiko what, what do you muh-mean by that..?"

Everything felt supremely cold.

She had her eyes closed.

("She could hurt you, and something tells me you'd hardly deserve it if she did.")

("…I don't… ever want to hurt you, Yakata-kun.")

But she would never.

"…I see you have, once again, made it here before me, Nadeshiko-san."

And before his panic could peak and shatter it was smoothed over in an instant by a light, breathy voice.

A voice that belonged to a woman he was not to listen to.

"Murasaki-san." Nadeshiko began to stand.

Yakata stayed on the ground. He couldn't get his legs to move.

"…Shusuke says he's very glad to see you again." Murasaki had a strange face, almost matching her soft voice. It was very round, and her eyes had lashes so thick that it looked like she was walking with them closed. Her mouth was small and finely-shaped. "…he says the flowers are very nice, just as always."

"…thank you… Murasaki-san…" Nadeshiko's voice was restrained, tinged with something Yakata could not identify.

Murasaki, the madwoman, tilted her head slightly, as if listening of something just barely out of earshot. "…and have you been well? He would like to know."

Nadeshiko did not reply. And Yakata, looking up at her, his eyes shifting from woman to girl to woman, was almost crushed by the heaviness in her eyes.

"…he is concerned about you, you know. They do not allow him to follow you. He wants to know if you have been suffering or not."

Nadeshiko blinked slowly, several times, as if it were an effort to move even her eyelids.

"…I am well," she replied, slowly, carefully.

Carefully, slowly, Murasaki tilted her head the other way. "…he says he does not believe you. As always."

Nadeshiko said nothing.

"…he says you do not owe him anything any more. He tells me this all the time. They don't tell me this. This is just him."

And in the cold, the stiff-thick uncomfortable silence that followed, Murasaki's eyes opened just that little, little bit.

They were a strange, strange grey, like glass, or stones.

"…and you, you're Itachi's boy, aren't you…?"

Sasuke had told her that she was a sick woman, that she only spoke lies.

But hot air filled his lungs and his eyes locked with hers.

"…at least, that is what I'm told. The little boy, the one always with Sasuke-san. They say you look very much like him. Where did you come from, little one? They want to know. It's a matter of great debate. I've been listening since you arrived. They want to know why you have the same eyes as him."

The woman that always spoke lies, and yet.

And Nadeshiko was standing in front of him. "That's enough, Murasaki-san. I'll leave you to visit with Shusuke." She bent down, slightly, and she reached a hand out to Yakata. "Yakata-kun."

He had never seen his hands shaking so badly.

But he reached out for her hand because he had to (trust her).

But questions and echoes and coldness rung and rung and rung in his mind over and over and over.

What had happened to Shusuke?

"I did."

What did she mean by that?

"I don't… ever want to hurt you, Yakata-kun."

It had to have been an accident, it had to have…

"You or anyone else."

And over and over and over those ripples were the lie-words, the mad-words.

"…and you, you are Itachi's boy, aren't you…?"

His hands were shaking so badly so badly so badly but.

Nadeshiko's hand was strong and firm and warm and there and all he could do was follow and breathe deeply and follow her.

She did not move too quickly, nor too slowly. And when the air finally began to grow warm, when the city finally began to grow familiar to his eyes, she stopped walking and led him to a bench, and sat the both of them down.

And on her face, so usually filled with delicate sadness or emptiness or heaviness, was an expression of an exquisite and painful anguish. She was pulling her lips together in some sort of effort, and she had her fingers resting on her forehead. Her hair fell over her shoulders and into her lap and onto the surface of the bench.

"I'm sorry, Yakata-kun. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," she said, over and over and over.

There was a feeling in his arm, a feeling of melting, and loosening.

And even though he felt hollow and wrong and scared his heart held the strongest feeling of all.

And he reached out and put his arm behind her back, and he leaned against her, resting his head against her shoulder. "It's okay, it's okay, Nadeshiko-san, it's okay," he replied, in a quiet echo that even he wasn't sure she could hear.

Even though he wasn't quite sure that it was okay at all. Any of it.

But he had to calm her down. Seeing her pain was the only thing of which he was sure wasn't okay.

She eventually quieted down. And, then, a variation: "That… none of that was supposed to happen…"

"Wh-wh-what wasn't…?"

"I wanted to leave before she…" Her head bowed lower. "She could have made things so much worse."

"It, it's okay, Nadeshiko-san. She… she didn't do a-anything, I don't… I don't think…" His voice felt uncomfortable, pressing against the back of his throat. "She's… she's not well, anyways, right…? Sasuke-san told me…"

And there a waterfall tumbled into his guts, cold and chilling.

Sasuke.

All of this, with Shusuke and the marigolds and the corruption, was this why he hated her?

He felt like he was assembling a puzzle with only half of the pieces, because none of it made sense.

This Shusuke, dead, boy Nadeshiko knew, and she… blamed herself for…

But Nadeshiko said nothing about Murasaki, nothing about Shusuke.

Yakata had to speak. "E-either way… So… so this is where you go every Suh-Saturday, to visit, um. Sh-shusuke-san…?"

She nodded, slowly.

"That… but that's very n-n-nice of you," Yakata said. "Bringing fuh-flowers an' things to him an' his, his mother…"

"…it's how I repay my debt." Nadeshiko's voice, small and soft and sad, cut through everything.

"…your, your debt?"

She didn't say anything more.

She laced her fingers together and rested them on her lap, leaning forward. Yakata took his hand off of her back.

What did she mean by "debt"?

("…he tells me, you do not owe him anything any more. He tells me this all the time.")

The puzzle piece did not fit any of the others.

"Nadeshiko-san, so… so is this why… Sasuke-san is so… so mad at you all the time?"

Her hair covered her face, from the front, from the sides. "He doesn't like that I do this. He never has."

"Doesn't like that you… that you visit Shusuke-san?"

Her head tilted to the side, slightly.

"But that's… but that's good of you, to visit… to visit people like… that... At least, I, I think so…"

She sighed. She stood. "I'm sorry, I suppose I've just made you more confused…"

"No! No, no," he said. "You're, it's… I, I understand if this is, this is hard for you to, um. To talk about."

She began walking away.

Yakata stood. "Na-Nadeshiko-san! I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I'm really sorry, I shouldn't, I shouldn't have made you do this, I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have asked…!"

She stopped, there, and turned around. "It's my fault, not yours. Please, you don't need to apologize," she said. She held out her hand. "I'll take you home, now. We've had a long day."

And with hands that were only that little bit less shaky, Yakata took her hand, and she led him home.

Once again, she would be leaving him alone. "I need some time by myself, I think. But I'll come back, eventually. Just… not today."

"I, I, I understand, Nadeshiko-san. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, today was…"

A hand on his shoulder. "Please, it's okay," she said. "I should have thought this through more. I'm sorry. Please don't worry."

He looked down, biting at the inside of his lips as he sucked them in. "Will I, will I see you tomorrow then? At the, at the shop?"

And the smile she gave him was the only comforting one he had seen that day. "Yes. I will see you tomorrow. Goodbye, Yakata-kun."

And she left.

Yakata went inside, after that. He took off his shoes, and found Ino pouring herself a glass of iced tea in the kitchen, and told her he was home.

"…is everything all right?" she asked him, afterward. "What happened out there? Nadeshiko, ah, she told me that she was going to…"

"It, it's okay, Ino-san. I'm just kinda… kinda tired, I guess," he said. "I'm gonna… I'm gonna go rest upstairs, I think."

There was kindness and sadness and sympathy on Ino's face. "Do whatever you need to, dear," she said.

(It was the first time she had ever called him that, but he could hardly notice.)

He went upstairs with heavy, tight-lidded eyes and laid down on Hajime's bed, on his back. He spread his arms and his legs wide over the mattress.

Trying to process.

Everything.

His mind had the pieces of a puzzle and he was determined to solve.

As much as he could, anyways..

Shusuke, whom Nadeshiko cared enough about to give him a flower.

(Yakata wondered what kind of flower he.)

Shusuke, a boy she used to know.

Shusuke, who was dead.

Nadeshiko blamed herself. She had happened.

(Whatever that meant.)

She visited him every Saturday. She gave him marigolds, his flowers.

(Quietly, his mind set aside the pieces of Murasaki. Pieces of another puzzle.)

(How did she know about his father?)

And Sasuke hated her for this.

Sasuke.

What did Sasuke hate?

Sasuke hated: weakness, laziness, lateness, complaints, Nadeshiko.

Sasuke hated that she did this, and she did this every week.

Sasuke hated that she…

…still blamed herself?

In looking the puzzle over it seemed far too incomplete, far too simple. Yakata's eyes narrowed and darted here, and there, in corners and by the window, on the ceiling.

What wasn't he seeing?

But in a knocking on the door, the pieces flew apart and back into their box, and Yakata sat up. "Y-yeah…?"

The door opened. It was Takeru. "Everything all right?" he asked.

"Oh, uh, I, I suppose..." Yakata leaned back a little bit on the bed, resting on his palms. They felt stiff from the bandages.

Takeru's face, narrow-featured and sly, widened in skepticism. "You suppose?" He sighed. "Oh, let me guess. She took you to visit Shusuke today."

The words out of his mouth hit him surprisingly hard. "How, how did you know…?"

"Oh, please. She's my sister. She's been visiting that kid's grave every Saturday for… wow, almost ten years, now," he said. He crossed his arms. "And since you were gone today and Mother was in an antsy mood… well and everything else that's been going on, it was just a matter of induction."

"Oh, I, I see…" Yakata said.

(Another piece in the box: ten years, she'd been visiting him for almost ten years.)

(She'd known Shusuke since she was at least eight years old. He must have meant a lot to her.)

"So what exactly did she end up telling you, there? Probably hardly anything, knowing her," Takeru said.

"Well, well, uh, she..." Rummage, rummage. "She told me that, that this is how she repays her… her debt. And that, um. That what… what happened to Shusuke-san, that she, um. That she had something to… do with it… I guess…"

And there, of all things, Takeru sighed. "A debt. Hm. I'll never understand that mind of hers, I never will." And he went and he sat down next to Yakata. He laced his fingers together, curiously, thumbs touching thumbs only at the tips. "That's really all she told you?"

Yakata nodded. "W-we didn't talk much. Wh-while were there, I mean…"

And he shook his head. "Ah, I should have known better than to expect her to be open about any of this… And I had such hopes that she'd be able to around you."

"Wh-what do you mean…?"

"Do you want to know what really happened to Shusuke?" Takeru glanced sideways. His eyes were very, very black. "I mean… well, I thought maybe she would tell you, but… I think since she went and brought you to his grave and everything, maybe… it's right that you should know the full story."

Yakata's head started feeling hollow again.

"I-I don't know, I, I think that if Nadeshiko-san wants to, to tell me everything, she should… tell me."

Another sigh from Takeru. It was saturated with pity. "If she didn't tell you by this point, she never will. And…" Takeru put his hand on Yakata's shoulder. It was very thin and his fingers were long and beautiful. "…honestly, I think it might be safer for you in the long run if I just told you now."

Takeru's hand was very steady. Yakata's shoulders were shivering.

"…Takeru-san, what, what, what are you saying…?" he said.

"…the reason why Shusuke's dead is because of her, Yakata-kun," Takeru said.

His mind reached for the puzzle. "It was… well, I know that she… that she thinks it's her fault, but it was an accident, right…?"

Takeru's silence was.

("I don't let people near me for a reason.")

"…it, it was an… an accident, right…?"

He shook his head. "She… killed him, Yakata-kun. Not even remotely on accident. What she did was… deliberate and cold-blooded, and she had no remorse for it, either."

The pieces scattered violently across the table.

"But, but she, but she visits him every… but she's… for, for ten years…!"

(She couldn't have killed someone when she was eight?)

"It's nothing but a ritual. Something to convince other people that she's actually sorry. That she actually feels something."

Yakata was breathing like he was running for his life.

"But she does…!"

"She's… not normal, Yakata-kun. She never has been." Another pity-filled sigh. "It's… why I tried to warn you. I tried to warn you, just in case she… well, I don't want to think about that…"

Yakata felt like he was going to throw up.

"But, but, but, but how, but she's, she's so nice to me…! She would, she would, she would never hurt me, she told me, she told me…!"

Takeru had his arms around him before he could bolt off the bed. They were skinny, like Ino's, but very, very strong. "Calm down, calm down, calm down. Just take deep breaths. Deep breaths, Yakata-kun, okay? I know this is a lot to handle."

Deep breaths.

"She said she would…"

Deep breaths.

"She said she never…"

Deep.

"She would never…"

Breaths.

"…hurt me…"

He collapsed back on the bed again. "Ta-Takeru-san, I don't, I don't understand, she said she would never…!"

"And you don't have to worry about that. Chances are she'd never have the opportunity. Or the urge. Any more, at least."

Yakata wanted to wipe his eyes. They felt hot, and wet.

"I don't… but h-how, I don't…"

Takeru put his arm around Yakata's shoulder.

And he said, "Let me explain."