The first time Hajime saw an asphodel, he didn’t realize it was white. As it pushed through the gash on Junta’s ankle, it didn’t look anything but scarlet.
He had noticed at the same time Tadokoro had, as he had brought Junta’s leg up to bandage it. “What the hell-” He brought his face as close as he could to the wound, eyes going wide, brow furrowing as he made out the shape of the flower through the blood. “What the HELL...”
Tadokoro set Junta down with a bizarre mix of speed and care. “I- I’ll be right back.” He turned for the door. “I- fuck, I’m going to go get-”
“Wait.” With a hiss of pain, Hajime got to his feet. “Tadokoro-san, wait-”
“D-don’t stand!” Tadokoro changed trajectories in an instant, reaching towards Hajime. “You’re still hurt, you need-!”
“I can do it.” Hajime’s hand shook as it supported his weight on the arm of his chair. “Please, Tadokoro-san, he doesn’t want anyone else to-”
“He needs a doctor! I have no idea what to do about this-!”
“I do. I just need scissors.”
Tadokoro’s mouth opened, but no sound came out for a moment. “I… has this happened before?”
Hajime looked at the ground.
In the pause, they both looked at Junta. He had barely moved from the slumped state Tadokoro left him in, but in their expectant silence, he lifted his head an inch. And for all the dried tears, he had a smile on his face. “Hey… don’t worry. Just pretend I’m not here.”
Tadokoro’s hands flexed at his sides. “I… shit.” He exhaled, low and long. “Wait five minutes.”
Thankfully, when he returned, all Tadokoro had brought was one of the tiniest pairs of scissors Hajime had ever seen. He sees the unspoken question on Hajime’s face. “Kinjou sews. He always brings a traveler’s kit on him.”
He held them out. They almost looked like a toy in his massive hand.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Aoyagi.”
Despite the wary words, Tadokoro’s eyes were trusting. It was almost enough for Hajime to forget his doubt.
Four days later, Hajime held up the drying flower in a jar while he flipped through his book. It had gone light pink from the blood, but he’s eventually able to find it in the pages. Asphodel. Named for the Asphodel Meadows from Greek mythology, a part of the Underworld where people who lived ordinary lives went after they died. “Bringing regret to the grave” in the language of flowers.
Hajime’s hands shake as he snips the flowers from Junta’s fingertips. The careful manicure is almost enough to distract him from Junta’s shivers and choked noises of pain. When he’s done, he moves to the back of Junta’s head, carefully pruning the mysterious lavender flowers section by section.
It can’t have been more than five minutes. Hajime never knew time could stretch this much when you weren’t on a bike. He clenches his hands in fists, then moves around to Junta’s face. His face is still slippery with sweat and tears. His eye is an even more alarming shade of red than before. He looks somewhere far past Hajime’s shoulder, barely moving.
Hajime doesn’t trust his clumsy fingers nearly enough to bring the scissors to Junta’s eye.
...but...
There’s a sudden rustle of fabric. “I have them!”
Kanzaki’s face is blotchy and red. Her hair is everywhere and perspiration is starting to soak through her shirt. But even through her wheezing, she’s triumphant. “Tweezers,” she pants, holding them out, “and scissors.” She holds out a pair larger than the one Hajime used on Junta’s fingers. “I figured… you’d need… something hardier for the roses.”
She noticed the roses? Hajime thinks distantly, almost numbly as he takes them. “How...where did...?”
“I asked… around.” In the middle of catching her breath, she manages a clumsy wink. “I can be… very persuasive!”
Hajime feels a wave of gratitude, but his thank yous are pushed aside as Junta laughs wheezily. “Demon blood…Tadokoro-san said… it was genetic.”
Hajime snaps back to business. “Manager, help me. I need you to-”
He swallows.
“I need you to hold Junta’s eye open.”
Kanzaki’s face goes pale when she finally sees the state of Junta’s face, eyes going wide and a hand flying to her mouth. But after a moment she just sets her gaze firm, straightening her shoulders. Carefully, she sets her thumb and pointer finger on opposite sides of Junta’s eye, like she’s helping him take out a contact.
Hajime kneels by Junta’s side, gently brushing a lock of hair out of his face. “It’s going to be alright, Junta.”
Junta’s laugh is more like a rasp of nails on glass. “Haha… well, obviously...” And despite everything, he gives Hajime a wink that feels far more tender than it should. “I’m in… the most capable hands I know.”
“LITERALLY-” The ragged voice makes all three of them jump. “THE FIRST THING YOU LEARN IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL-” Tachibana yanks the tent flap open, face gleaming and pink. “DON’T. RUN. WITH FUCKING SCISSORS.”
Thank god Hajime hadn’t started plucking yet.
Junta’s eye is still faintly pink by the time they get to the bath.
“Boy.” Junta laughs. They can hear Tachibana’s voice echoing faintly from somewhere else in the hotel. “Kanzaki’s girlfriend sure’s scary, huh.”
Despite everything still rolling in his mind, Hajime pauses at that. “They’re… dating?”
“Hmm.” Junta winks. “Are they?”
“I asked you. Why are you even winking.” The flatness of Hajime’s voice takes them both by surprise, and Hajime lets his mouth drop beneath the water’s surface.
“I… sorry.”
“No, I…” Hajime’s face feels hot. “It’s fine. Sorry.”
There’s only the gentle sound of swishing water as they bathe.
It takes a few minutes for Hajime to summon the nerve to look at Junta’s face. “J-”
He voice dies as Junta suddenly, almost elegantly, reaches into his damp hair and plucks a single green leaf.
“...what?” Junta looks from Hajime’s gaze to the leaf. “I- oh. It’s okay. It’s just the one.” He sets it on the edge of the bath, smiling almost sheepishly. “Ha. Maybe use it to cook something nice.”
“What?”
Junta laughs at the look on Hajime’s face. “It’s basil. It’s uh, an herb. You use it for cooking.”
“You… knew what it was?”
“Well, yeah. I’ve been reading as much as I could on plants ever since…” He trails off. “Well. As long as this has been happening. I know about a couple thousand plants by sight now. I’ve learned a bit of flower language too.”
Hajime can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. Why would he assume he’d be the only one who knew anything about plants? It was Junta’s body.
“Roses, for passion,” Junta looks up at the ceiling, politely ignoring Hajime’s blush. “Gladiolus, for strength and moral integrity. Those were the purple ones. Basil, for hatred. Yarrow- those were the little white ones- those can be a declaration of war, but also signify healing-”
“Hatred?”
Junta trails off for a moment.
“... aha, well yeah.” He pushes a hand through his dark hair. “I mean, it makes sense. I told you about that Hakone climber, right? Mana-”
“Junta, this isn’t the first time you’ve grown basil.”
Junta isn’t looking at Hajime. He traces a hand on the water’s surface.
“You grow basil all the time- it’s probably the plant you grow most. Why… if you’re growing basil so much, what is it you hate?”
“It’s getting late,” and Junta stands with a fake yawn, reaching for his towel. “I want to go over everything with the others one last time before we go to bed-”
“Junta.” Hajime tries his best to keep his voice from shaking. “Who is- what is it you hate?”
Junta stays in place for a moment, the trickle of water falling from his body the only thing to break the silence.
And he laughs.
“Hajime.” He turns and gives a Hajime a lopsided smile, eyebrows quirked. “They’re plants. I think you’re reading a little too much into it.”
Hajime stays in the bath a few minutes after Junta leaves. He does nothing but stare at the lone basil leaf left on the floor.
Junta’s hand lays outstretched from the rest of his body, as if it was trying to reach for Hajime’s futon in his sleep. From his pointer finger sprouts a small, pale yellow flower, almost glowing white in the moonlight.
At first glance, it could be mistaken for a rose. But as Hajime slowly, slowly lifts it to his face, he sees it’s a camilia. Multiple meanings, he remembers from his book. In Japan, a yellow camellia typically means longing. But there’s several meanings assigned to it in Western circles. He only remembers one now:
FILL: TEAM GRANDSTAND, T (Part 2 of 2)
He had noticed at the same time Tadokoro had, as he had brought Junta’s leg up to bandage it. “What the hell-” He brought his face as close as he could to the wound, eyes going wide, brow furrowing as he made out the shape of the flower through the blood. “What the HELL...”
Tadokoro set Junta down with a bizarre mix of speed and care. “I- I’ll be right back.” He turned for the door. “I- fuck, I’m going to go get-”
“Wait.” With a hiss of pain, Hajime got to his feet. “Tadokoro-san, wait-”
“D-don’t stand!” Tadokoro changed trajectories in an instant, reaching towards Hajime. “You’re still hurt, you need-!”
“I can do it.” Hajime’s hand shook as it supported his weight on the arm of his chair. “Please, Tadokoro-san, he doesn’t want anyone else to-”
“He needs a doctor! I have no idea what to do about this-!”
“I do. I just need scissors.”
Tadokoro’s mouth opened, but no sound came out for a moment. “I… has this happened before?”
Hajime looked at the ground.
In the pause, they both looked at Junta. He had barely moved from the slumped state Tadokoro left him in, but in their expectant silence, he lifted his head an inch. And for all the dried tears, he had a smile on his face. “Hey… don’t worry. Just pretend I’m not here.”
Tadokoro’s hands flexed at his sides. “I… shit.” He exhaled, low and long. “Wait five minutes.”
Thankfully, when he returned, all Tadokoro had brought was one of the tiniest pairs of scissors Hajime had ever seen. He sees the unspoken question on Hajime’s face. “Kinjou sews. He always brings a traveler’s kit on him.”
He held them out. They almost looked like a toy in his massive hand.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Aoyagi.”
Despite the wary words, Tadokoro’s eyes were trusting. It was almost enough for Hajime to forget his doubt.
Four days later, Hajime held up the drying flower in a jar while he flipped through his book. It had gone light pink from the blood, but he’s eventually able to find it in the pages. Asphodel. Named for the Asphodel Meadows from Greek mythology, a part of the Underworld where people who lived ordinary lives went after they died. “Bringing regret to the grave” in the language of flowers.
Hajime’s hands shake as he snips the flowers from Junta’s fingertips. The careful manicure is almost enough to distract him from Junta’s shivers and choked noises of pain. When he’s done, he moves to the back of Junta’s head, carefully pruning the mysterious lavender flowers section by section.
It can’t have been more than five minutes. Hajime never knew time could stretch this much when you weren’t on a bike. He clenches his hands in fists, then moves around to Junta’s face. His face is still slippery with sweat and tears. His eye is an even more alarming shade of red than before. He looks somewhere far past Hajime’s shoulder, barely moving.
Hajime doesn’t trust his clumsy fingers nearly enough to bring the scissors to Junta’s eye.
...but...
There’s a sudden rustle of fabric. “I have them!”
Kanzaki’s face is blotchy and red. Her hair is everywhere and perspiration is starting to soak through her shirt. But even through her wheezing, she’s triumphant. “Tweezers,” she pants, holding them out, “and scissors.” She holds out a pair larger than the one Hajime used on Junta’s fingers. “I figured… you’d need… something hardier for the roses.”
She noticed the roses? Hajime thinks distantly, almost numbly as he takes them. “How...where did...?”
“I asked… around.” In the middle of catching her breath, she manages a clumsy wink. “I can be… very persuasive!”
Hajime feels a wave of gratitude, but his thank yous are pushed aside as Junta laughs wheezily. “Demon blood…Tadokoro-san said… it was genetic.”
Hajime snaps back to business. “Manager, help me. I need you to-”
He swallows.
“I need you to hold Junta’s eye open.”
Kanzaki’s face goes pale when she finally sees the state of Junta’s face, eyes going wide and a hand flying to her mouth. But after a moment she just sets her gaze firm, straightening her shoulders. Carefully, she sets her thumb and pointer finger on opposite sides of Junta’s eye, like she’s helping him take out a contact.
Hajime kneels by Junta’s side, gently brushing a lock of hair out of his face. “It’s going to be alright, Junta.”
Junta’s laugh is more like a rasp of nails on glass. “Haha… well, obviously...” And despite everything, he gives Hajime a wink that feels far more tender than it should. “I’m in… the most capable hands I know.”
“LITERALLY-” The ragged voice makes all three of them jump. “THE FIRST THING YOU LEARN IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL-” Tachibana yanks the tent flap open, face gleaming and pink. “DON’T. RUN. WITH FUCKING SCISSORS.”
Thank god Hajime hadn’t started plucking yet.
Junta’s eye is still faintly pink by the time they get to the bath.
“Boy.” Junta laughs. They can hear Tachibana’s voice echoing faintly from somewhere else in the hotel. “Kanzaki’s girlfriend sure’s scary, huh.”
Despite everything still rolling in his mind, Hajime pauses at that. “They’re… dating?”
“Hmm.” Junta winks. “Are they?”
“I asked you. Why are you even winking.” The flatness of Hajime’s voice takes them both by surprise, and Hajime lets his mouth drop beneath the water’s surface.
“I… sorry.”
“No, I…” Hajime’s face feels hot. “It’s fine. Sorry.”
There’s only the gentle sound of swishing water as they bathe.
It takes a few minutes for Hajime to summon the nerve to look at Junta’s face. “J-”
He voice dies as Junta suddenly, almost elegantly, reaches into his damp hair and plucks a single green leaf.
“...what?” Junta looks from Hajime’s gaze to the leaf. “I- oh. It’s okay. It’s just the one.” He sets it on the edge of the bath, smiling almost sheepishly. “Ha. Maybe use it to cook something nice.”
“What?”
Junta laughs at the look on Hajime’s face. “It’s basil. It’s uh, an herb. You use it for cooking.”
“You… knew what it was?”
“Well, yeah. I’ve been reading as much as I could on plants ever since…” He trails off. “Well. As long as this has been happening. I know about a couple thousand plants by sight now. I’ve learned a bit of flower language too.”
Hajime can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. Why would he assume he’d be the only one who knew anything about plants? It was Junta’s body.
“Roses, for passion,” Junta looks up at the ceiling, politely ignoring Hajime’s blush. “Gladiolus, for strength and moral integrity. Those were the purple ones. Basil, for hatred. Yarrow- those were the little white ones- those can be a declaration of war, but also signify healing-”
“Hatred?”
Junta trails off for a moment.
“... aha, well yeah.” He pushes a hand through his dark hair. “I mean, it makes sense. I told you about that Hakone climber, right? Mana-”
“Junta, this isn’t the first time you’ve grown basil.”
Junta isn’t looking at Hajime. He traces a hand on the water’s surface.
“You grow basil all the time- it’s probably the plant you grow most. Why… if you’re growing basil so much, what is it you hate?”
“It’s getting late,” and Junta stands with a fake yawn, reaching for his towel. “I want to go over everything with the others one last time before we go to bed-”
“Junta.” Hajime tries his best to keep his voice from shaking. “Who is- what is it you hate?”
Junta stays in place for a moment, the trickle of water falling from his body the only thing to break the silence.
And he laughs.
“Hajime.” He turns and gives a Hajime a lopsided smile, eyebrows quirked. “They’re plants. I think you’re reading a little too much into it.”
Hajime stays in the bath a few minutes after Junta leaves. He does nothing but stare at the lone basil leaf left on the floor.
Junta’s hand lays outstretched from the rest of his body, as if it was trying to reach for Hajime’s futon in his sleep. From his pointer finger sprouts a small, pale yellow flower, almost glowing white in the moonlight.
At first glance, it could be mistaken for a rose. But as Hajime slowly, slowly lifts it to his face, he sees it’s a camilia. Multiple meanings, he remembers from his book. In Japan, a yellow camellia typically means longing. But there’s several meanings assigned to it in Western circles. He only remembers one now:
My destiny is in your hands.
He gently kisses the flower.