The Spider Lily Turns into a Chrysanthemum
Ichimaku: Chapter 7
The Kawasaki was already waiting for him.
Shouma had picked the model before Yoshino came home, which made the trip to the dealership considerably easier. All that remained was the final paperwork, a quick inspection, and handing over the keys.
Yoshino stood beside him while the salesperson went through everything.
Her attention, however, was mostly on the motorcycle.
It was a Kawasaki Ninja H2 SX SE, finished primarily in glossy black with sharp white detailing along the fairings. The bike had the aggressive bodywork of a superbike but enough room behind the rider for a passenger. Which had been one of Shouma’s requirements.
Yoshino walked around it, “This is fucking beautiful.”
“I know.”
“Expensive?”
“Yeah.”
“How expensive?”
Shouma looked at her, “Don’t worry about it.”
“That means very expensive.”
The salesperson laughed and Shouma ignored both of them.
Yoshino stopped beside the passenger seat and pressed one hand against it, “So this is mine.”
“What?”
“My seat.”
Shouma looked at where her hand rested, “Yeah.”
A smile immediately spread across her face, “You actually made sure I could ride with you?”
“Obviously.” He said it as though there had never been another option.
Yoshino’s smile softened, “Cool.”
Shouma took the keys from the salesperson and looked at Yoshino, “You’re driving the truck.”
“What?”
“I’m taking this.”
“You’re abandoning me?” Yoshino said playfully.
“You’re following me.”
“Same thing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Yoshino held out her hand, “Kei keys please.”
Shouma dropped them into her palm, “Don’t lose me.”
She looked offended, “You’re the one on the motorcycle.”
Their next stop was Apple Kyoto. They parked two streets away—Yoshino maneuvering the kei truck into a parking space while Shouma parked the Kawasaki nearby—and continued on foot toward Shijō-dōri.
The area was packed. It was one of those Kyoto afternoons when the city seemed to be carrying twice its normal population. Seasonal events around the city had brought in more visitors, and the central shopping district was crowded with tourists moving between department stores, cafés, boutiques and side streets. English mixed with Japanese around them, along with Mandarin, Korean and several languages Yoshino couldn’t immediately place.
A tour group stopped directly in front of them.
Shouma stopped before walking into the back of someone, “Ttaku.”
Yoshino laughed, “You love crowds.”
“I hate everyone.”
“I know.”
Another group moved between them. Shouma immediately reached backward, “Take my hand.”
Yoshino looked down.
“There’s too many people here.”
She placed her hand in his.
To Shouma, it was practical.
To Yoshino, it wasn’t unusual either.
He’d held her hand plenty of times growing up. Crowded festivals, train stations, public events etc etc, if there were enough people around that Yoshino could disappear from his immediate reach, Shouma simply grabbed her. It was his job and at least, that was how Yoshino had always explained it.
They moved through the crowd and then Yoshino noticed two women walking in the opposite direction look directly at Shouma.
One glanced at his face. Then his leather jacket. Then at Yoshino.
Yoshino straightened slightly.
Another woman looked too.
Yoshino matched Shouma’s stride. She didn’t mind women looking at him. Actually, she liked it because it was a compliment. Shouma was handsome and pretending otherwise would be stupid.
But what Yoshino liked considerably more was the second look they gave her. That little assessment.
That meant they saw competition. And if they saw competition, then—
Yoshino caught their reflection in a storefront as they rounded the corner. Both dressed in black. Shouma in his leather jacket beside her, their hands still together.
They looked—
Oh my God.
Internally, Yoshino lost her mind.
We look so fucking good.
Her face remained completely neutral. Inside, she was practically kicking her feet.
Look at us!!!
She glanced at their reflection again.
We look like a couple.
A ridiculous smile threatened to escape. Yoshino forced it down.
Shouma glanced at her, “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re making a face.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I ain’t making a face.”
Shouma side-eyed her in disbelief, “Mkay.”
Inside Apple Kyoto, Yoshino headed directly toward the phones.
“I want red.”
Shouma followed her, “Of course you do.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your hair is red.”
“Maroon.”
“Your suitcase is red.”
“Maroon.”
“You own a hundred things that are basically red.”
Yoshino picked up the display phone.
She’d already decided she wanted one of the newest models, although after losing her previous phone to Kirishima’s tracking, almost anything would’ve been an improvement.
Shouma stood beside her while she compared storage options, “You need enough space.”
“I know.”
“You take too many pictures.”
“I do not.”
“You have thousands.”
“Memories are important.”
“Half of them are food.”
“Food is a memory.”
Shouma picked up another phone.
Yoshino looked at him, “What are you doing?”
“Looking.”
“You have a phone.”
“It’s getting old.”
“It works.”
“So did yours until you threw it away.”
“That was different.”
“True” Fucking Kirishima.
Shouma turned the black model over in his hand.
Yoshino’s eyes widened, “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“Get it.”
He looked at her.
“Then we’ll match.” Yoshino giggled.
Shouma stared at her for a second.
Yoshino held up her red phone beside his black one, “We’re twin flames with these phones!”
Shouma smirked, “Yeah whatever.”
By the time they left, Yoshino had a new red iPhone and Shouma had upgraded to the matching model in black.
They stopped outside long enough to finish setting everything up. Shouma transferred his information first. Yoshino stood beside him working through her settings.
Then she opened location sharing.
Shouma noticed, “What are you doing?”
“Adding you; my location.”
Shouma looked at her, “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
“Yoshino.”
He turned to meet her eyes, “I’m not Kirishima.”
“I know.”
“And I can find you locally anyway.”
“That is not comforting when you say it like that.”
“You know what I mean.”
Yoshino smiled but then she became serious, “No. I need you to know where I am.”
Shouma stopped tapping his phone.
“You’re not Kirishima,” She held his gaze, “I trust you the most.”
Something shifted in Shouma’s expression. Then he smirked, “Fine.”
He accepted the location share. Yoshino returned to setting up her phone as though she’d said nothing particularly important. Shouma looked at her for another second.
I trust you the most.
That was precisely the problem. Yoshino trusted him with her whole heart. She slept beside him.
Changed around him. Asked him to protect her. Let him know where she was. And believed, without hesitation, that Shouma would never take something from her simply because he wanted it. And he wouldn’t…no matter how badly he wanted her sometimes.
That trust was something he’d rather die protecting than lose.
“Done!” Yoshino announced.
Shouma blinked out of his thoughts.
She held up her phone, “Now you can stalk me.”
“Don’t call it that.”
She laughed as they got up to go.
Their next stop was FRESCO. The grocery trip started normally: Rice. Chicken. Beef. Salmon. Mackerel. Eggs. Tofu. Vegetables. Fruit.
Yoshino was comparing two packages of mushrooms when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
Shouma’s expression immediately changed.
Tsubaki stood at the end of the aisle, and Akira Miyamori was beside her.
He looked considerably more casual than the night before, dressed in a fitted shirt and trousers, one hand holding a small basket containing exotic fruit, bottled drinks and what appeared to be ingredients for lunch.
Tsubaki smiled, “Fancy seeing you two here.”
Yoshino smiled back, “Ahhhh Tsubaki!”
Akira gave Yoshino a small wave, “Hey Yoshino.”
“Hi Akira!”
They exchanged the same slightly awkward laugh.
Shouma and Tsubaki did not. They simply stared at each other.
Tsubaki’s smile widened, “So.”
Shouma already looked tired.
“I hope you enjoyed my gift last night.”
Yoshino immediately knew what she meant. Her face heated.
Shouma’s eyes narrowed.
Tsubaki tilted her head.
“Did you two finally have sex?”
Yoshino had just taken a sip from the café drink in her hand. She sprayed it directly toward the floor.
Akira jumped backward, “Whoa!”
Yoshino coughed violently, “TSUBAKI!”
Shouma closed his eyes, “Do you ever get tired of being disgusting?”
“No.”
“Try it sometime.”
Tsubaki smiled sweetly and then Akira looked between Yoshino and Shouma, “Wait.”
Everyone looked at him, and Akira pointed at both Yoshino and Shouma “I thought you two were dating.”
Yoshino’s heart stopped.
Akira shrugged, “You give off that.”
Shouma gave him a dismissive look, “And what are you?”
Akira blinked.
“Plaything fuckboy number four?”
“Damn, dude,” Akira physically leaned back, “You didn’t have to put it that way.”
Shouma shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“Don’t gotta be so rude bro.”
Tsubaki’s smile remained perfectly pleasant. Her eyes didn’t, “Akira knows he’s not the only one.”
Akira sighed, “Tsubaki—”
“But he knows he’s the most important one,” she slipped an arm through his, “And if you cross him, you’re crossing me. If you cross me, you cross Tsutsuji. And if you cross Tsutsuji—”
Her smile brightened.
“—you cross my sweet Renji. Okay?”
Shouma waved one hand dismissively, “Whatever.”
Yoshino stood silently beside him. Her heart was still recovering from I thought you two were dating.
Tsubaki noticed. Of course she noticed. Her eyes flicked toward Yoshino. Then back to Shouma.
She smiled, “Well, since we’re all here, you two are coming tonight right?”
Shouma frowned, “To what?”
“The party.”
Yoshino’s eyes widened, “Oh shit,” she’d forgotten, “That’s tonight?”
“Yes, Yoshino.” Tsubaki looked offended, “I invited you weeks ago.”
“I was dealing with Tokyo!”
“I know. You’re forgiven.”
Shouma sighed, “What time?”
“Nine.”
Akira shifted the grocery basket to his other hand, “My parents’ penthouse.”
Yoshino looked at him, “Your parents are okay with that?”
“They’re not there.”
“Ah.”
“Starts at nine,” Tsubaki continued, “and ends whenever everyone gets bored or passes out.”
She wrapped both arms around Akira’s neck, “But we might escape after 1am.”
Akira smirked, “So if you don’t see either of us after that, you’ll know why.”
Shouma grimaced, “You really do treat discretion like an inconvenience.”
Tsubaki smiled, “I don’t recall asking for your moral assessment.”
“Good. Because you wouldn’t like it.”
Akira rolled his eyes, “Dude, take it easy,” he sighs, “Hopefully the alcohol selection tonight gets you to loosen up.”
“Doubt it.” Shouma was now talking without making eye contact with either Tsubaki or Akira.
Akira turned toward Yoshino, “Make sure he comes. It’ll be cool getting to know him more.”
Then he added casually—
“Especially since he’s gonna be working with us.”
Shouma’s head turned, “Us?”
Tsubaki immediately began walking away, “Later!”
She waved without turning around. Akira gave them an apologetic shrug and followed her.
Shouma watched them disappear around the aisle.
“What the fuck does us mean?”
Yoshino scratched her cheek, “I… actually don’t know.”
He looked at her, “Great.”
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“The party.”
She smiled sheepishly, “I totally forgot to tell you.”
Shouma sighed.
“Is it okay?”
“Whatever.”
He picked up the mushrooms Yoshino had abandoned, “I’ll go.”
“Really?”
“You’re not going by yourself.”
Yoshino smiled, “Okay.”
They finished grocery shopping without further incident. Yoshino stocked them with enough rice, meat, fish and vegetables to meal-prep for several days. She added fruit, yogurt, eggs and several sauces Shouma insisted he already owned.
Then she found a boxed set of food-storage containers.
Shouma looked at them, “No.”
“Yes.”
“We have containers.”
“You have three.”
“That’s containers.”
“We’re building an inventory.”
“We?”
Yoshino put the box in the cart, “We.”
Shouma didn’t argue.
Outside, he loaded everything into the back of the kei truck while Yoshino stretched beside it. When he finished, he shut the rear door.
Then he looked at her, “You know you can raincheck.”
Yoshino stopped stretching, “What?”
“The party,” Shouma leaned against the truck, “You don’t have to go.”
He looked away briefly, “We can cook together. Watch whatever movie you want at the apartment.”
Yoshino’s expression softened.That sounded considerably better. Just them.
No Tsubaki watching them. No strangers. No questions. No pretending she wasn’t paying attention to every woman who looked at him.
She wanted to say yes. But—
“I promised Tsubaki.”
Shouma sighed, “I know.”
“And you know how she is about rejection when she planned something.”
“Unfortunately.”
Yoshino smiled.
Shouma shrugged, “Fine,” Then he looked down at himself, “What are we wearing?”
Yoshino’s entire demeanor changed.
“Oh.”
Shouma immediately regretted asking.
“We can go shopping.”
“Of course.”
“But first, let’s go home. Drop off the groceries, eat those bentos we bought, and then go.”
“Fine.”
Yoshino practically bounced toward the driver’s door.
Shouma stared after her, “You like this way too much.”
“I LOVE dressing you.”
“I know.”
Back at the townhouse, Yoshino reversed the kei truck into the garage. A moment later, the Kawasaki’s engine rolled into the space beside her. Yoshino climbed out and looked at the two vehicles.
“Our garage looks cool now.”
Shouma removed his helmet, “It’s a truck and a motorcycle.”
“Exactly.”
They carried the groceries inside together.Yoshino handled the refrigerator while Shouma organized the pantry.
“You put everything in weird places.”
“I live here.”
“And now I might live here.”
“And?”
“Move,” she reached around him for a cabinet.
Shouma shifted at the same time. They bumped shoulders and Yoshino turned.
Shouma looked down at her. Neither moved for a second.
They were standing too close.
Yoshino’s hand remained against the cabinet beside his shoulder. Shouma could smell her shampoo.
Her eyes briefly dropped toward his mouth. His did the same.
Then Yoshino immediately stepped backward, “Rice goes there.”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
They both returned to unpacking groceries. Neither mentioned it.
They ate the bentos at the kitchen table.Yoshino had chosen grilled salmon, rice, vegetables and tamagoyaki. Shouma’s had karaage, beef and considerably more rice.
For several minutes, they ate quietly. Then Shouma looked up. He stopped chewing.
Yoshino noticed, “What?”
His mouth twitched.
“What?”
Shouma covered his mouth.
Yoshino narrowed her eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
He made a strange sound. Then laughed.
Yoshino froze.
Not a chuckle. Not the little breath of amusement she’d gotten from him before. Shouma actually laughed. He leaned forward, one hand grabbing his stomach.
Yoshino stared at him, “What the fuck?”
That made it worse. Shouma laughed harder.
“WHAT?”
He pointed at her face.
Yoshino touched her cheek, “What?!”
“Nose.”
“My nose?”
“You have—” He couldn’t finish.
Yoshino grabbed her phone and opened the camera.
Grains of rice were stuck directly beside one of her nostrils, and a strand of seaweed was hanging from the other.
Her face went scarlet, “Oh my fucking God.”
Shouma lost it again.
“STOP LAUGHING!”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not!”
He was still laughing.
Yoshino wiped the rice away, “You asshole.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“No, you’ve been laughing at me!”
Shouma leaned back, finally catching his breath. His eyes were slightly watery.
Yoshino stared.
She’d never seen him laugh like that.
Ever.
Her embarrassment slowly disappeared. A smile crept across her face.
Shouma noticed, “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t.”
“You have a cute laugh.”
His face immediately flattened.
“There he is.”
“Shut up.”
Yoshino laughed.
For another second, Shouma fought it. Then another small laugh escaped him.
Yoshino smiled down at her food. She wanted to remember that sound.
Shouma looked at the clock, “All right.”
He stood, “We need to stop fucking around forreal.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to get shopping done fast enough that I can come home and nap before this stupid party.”
Yoshino immediately stood, “Deal.”
At the entrance, Yoshino slipped on her Converse.
Shouma disappeared into the side closet.
When he returned, he threw something toward her and Yoshino caught it.
A black leather jacket.
She looked at him, “This is yours.”
“Wear it.”
“It’s huge.”
“Wear it.”
Yoshino smiled, “Yes, sir.”
She pulled it on. The sleeves were slightly too long and the shoulders broader than hers. It smelled like him. Yoshino tried not to think about that. Shouma opened the closet again.
Two motorcycle helmets and he handed one to her, “Here.”
Yoshino stared at it, “I haven’t gone on the bike with you in over a year.”
“Yeah.”
She turned the helmet over. It was the same one he’d bought for her seventeenth birthday.
She smiled, “Who knows if my big head still fits in this thing.”
“Your head didn’t grow.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
They went outside. Shouma started the Kawasaki. The engine settled into a deep mechanical rumble. He climbed on first.
Yoshino put on her helmet and approached.
Shouma looked back, “Wait.”
He reached toward her and adjusted the strap beneath her chin.
Yoshino stopped breathing normally.
From that angle, his face was close.
Too close.
His fingers worked beneath her chin while his eyes remained focused on the clasp, “There.”
Yoshino swallowed, “Thanks.”
Shouma put on his own helmet. Yoshino climbed behind him.
“Hold on.”
She wrapped both arms around his waist. Her chest settled against his back as she pulled herself securely against him. Yoshino closed her eyes for half a second.
God.
She’d missed this. This was the one place where nobody could question how tightly she held Shouma. She had to.
Safety.
Completely reasonable.
Her body pressed against the leather covering his back, and she wondered stupidly whether he could feel how fast her heart was beating through all those layers.
Fuck.
She tightened her arms.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Control yourself.
Shouma started moving, and his attention immediately shifted to the road.
He loved feeling Yoshino wrapped around him. He could think about that later. Right now, she was his passenger. He accelerated.
“HOLD ON TIGHT!”
“I AM!”
The wind swallowed most of their voices. Shouma leaned smoothly through the next turn.
Yoshino squeezed harder.
Good.
He needed her centered with him, following his movements instead of fighting the bike. The fact that he enjoyed how tightly she clung to him was irrelevant. Mostly.
They arrived at Kyoto Takashimaya S.C. with plenty of time. Yoshino knew what she wanted almost immediately. Black. Again.
She found the dress at a multi-brand boutique; a fitted black faux-leather bandage midi dress. Structured seams followed the bodice in the suggestion of a minimalist corset without making the dress overly ornate. The material was sleek, the neckline clean, and the silhouette fitted through the waist and hips before ending below the knee.
She paired it with black open-toe ankle-strap heels and long gold statement earrings.
Shouma looked at everything draped over her arm, “This is what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.”
He glanced toward the men’s section, “I’ll match you.”
Yoshino’s heart jumped.
Shouma continued before she could react, “This place probably has something that’ll work. And I want to go home and sleep.”
The romance died immediately. Yoshino grabbed his wrist, “Come on.”
“Don’t drag me.”
She dragged him anyway.
For Shouma, Yoshino chose a fitted sleeveless black turtleneck and slim tailored black trousers cropped just above the ankle. Then she found the shoes. Black leather Chelsea boots.
Shouma stared at them. His face twisted, “No.”
“Yes.”
“Those seem so…” he searched for the word, “Fruity.”
Yoshino stared at him, “Shouma.”
“Can’t I wear my regular leather boots?”
“No.”
“Dress shoes?”
“No.”
He looked at the shirt, “Sleeveless turtleneck?”
“YES.”
He held it up.
“This doesn’t even have sleeves.”
“That is what sleeveless means.”
“Why does a turtleneck need to be sleeveless?”
“Because you’re hot.”
Silence.
Yoshino froze.
Shouma slowly looked at her.
Her brain caught up, “I MEAN—”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Temperature!”
“Uh-huh.”
“You get hot!”
“Sure.”
“Motorcycles! Summer! Weather!”
Shouma smirked.
Yoshino shoved the clothes against his chest, “Shut the fuck up and wear it.”
For once, Shouma didn’t argue.
At the counter, the saleswoman looked over the clothing, “Would your boyfriend like to try these on first?”
Yoshino’s brain stopped again. Shouma glanced at her.
The saleswoman continued, “These pieces are final sale, so they cannot be returned.”
Yoshino recovered, “No, it’s okay. I know his size.”
Shouma said nothing.
The saleswoman smiled, “You know it very well?”
“Like the back of my hand.”
Yoshino immediately wished she’d worded that differently.
Shouma pulled out his wallet, “I’ll pay.”
“You don’t have to pay for mine.”
“I know.”
“Shouma.”
“Yoshino.”
She sighed, “Fine.”
He paid for everything. Shouma carried the shopping bag in his right hand as they walked through the mall. With his left, he took Yoshino’s hand. Again, practical.
Crowds.
Yoshino wasn’t going to complain.
A group of schoolgirls nearby began whispering. Yoshino heard one giggle. Then another. Their eyes were on Shouma.
Yoshino glanced toward them. They couldn’t have been much younger than her.
She smiled to herself. Shouma heard them too.
He rolled his eyes, “I want to get the fuck out of here.”
Yoshino laughed, “You have fans.”
“I don’t care.”
“They think you’re cute.”
“Walk faster.” He pulled her gently.
Yoshino matched his pace, “Yes, celebrity.”
“Shut up.”
They reached the motorcycle. Shouma stored the shopping bag securely before locking the compartment.
Then he turned toward Yoshino, “Come here.”
“What?”
“Your hair.”
He reached toward her clip.
Behind them came another burst of giggling. Yoshino looked over.
The same schoolgirls had followed them out.
They were standing several meters away, whispering furiously while watching. One of them looked directly at Yoshino. Yoshino smiled.
The entire group immediately scattered.
Shouma rolled his eyes.
“Let me fix your hair clip,” he repositioned it carefully, “It needs to sit right or it’s going to hurt when I put the helmet on.”
Yoshino stood still while he adjusted it.
“There.” He helped her with the helmet. Then he climbed onto the Kawasaki. Yoshino followed.
Shouma put his own helmet on.
Before he’d even fully started the motorcycle, Yoshino wrapped both arms around him. Then she rested her head against his back. Shouma looked down at her hands locked around his waist.
“We haven’t even left.”
Yoshino smiled inside her helmet.
“But yeah,” he continued. “Hold on.”
His hand briefly settled over hers, “And don’t let go.”
Yoshino closed her eyes, “Of course.” Her arms tightened around him.
I’ll never let go.
Shouma’s hand remained over hers for one second longer.
Yoshino smiled and thought to herself
I’m not a fool.
The Kawasaki’s engine came alive beneath them.
Shouma pulled his hand away and gripped the handlebars.
Yoshino held him tighter. Neither of them could see the other’s face. Yoshino kept her eyes closed becoming one with the rhythm of the motorcycle rev, the wind and Shouma’s warmth.
