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Chapter 123 - Petals, Thorns, and Technicalities
🕑 Added 2025-10-18 10:43:41 +0000 UTCI took the spot next to her and grabbed a sheet of paper, starting to fold it into the shape of a bouquet like hers.
“What are you doing?“ She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. "I asked you to leave."
“Helping you.“ I smiled and bumped her shoulder with mine. "I need two bouquets, after all. I hope my little flower won't mind the company."
Her face softened fractionally at the pet name before she caught herself. Ino humphed, twisting her lips in that cute way that made me want to bite them. She continued working, her movements still stiff and angry.
We worked in silence for a while, the only sounds the rustle of paper and the distant hum of the crowd outside. I kept my eyes on my work, but my awareness tracked her, her mood, I wanted to say, but…. I was still horny as fuck.
My attention kept wandering down to her exposed midriff flexed with each sharp fold of paper, that little silver of pale skin between her purple top and skirt that I'd mapped with my fingers more times than I could count. Her ponytail swayed when she moved her head, shining golden under the light filtering through the shop windows.
She was aware of it, too. I could tell by the way she kept adjusting her posture, straightening her spine, pulling her shoulders back. Making sure I could see while warning me with cute humphs and little glares.
Then, hesitantly, "Do you... do you give them pet names, too?" Her voice was small, uncertain. "The other girls."
"No," I said.
It was even true. Kind of. I had different approaches for different people. But Ino was the only one who got that particular nickname, that particular flavor of attention. Technicalities, really, but not exactly a lie.
Ino humphed again, louder this time. "Well, that doesn't make it better or anything."
Tsundere mode?
She kept working on the paper, but her agitation grew. Her hands moved faster, clumsier, and the paper started tearing at the edges. I could see the tension building in her shoulders, in the white-knuckled grip on the paper.
Till it broke.
"Seriously, why do you even do that?" Her voice rose, frustration bleeding through. "Why do you say all those nice things to me and then—then turn around and say them to other people too? It's so—you're such a jerk, you know that? You make me feel like the only one that matters and then remind me I'm not, and I don't understand why you can't just—just pick someone and stick with them like a normal person! Or at least have the decency to lie about it, that would make it easier!
Her voice cracked.
“Easier, with dad and all of this—humph. I’m not an idiot but I hopped, I really did, I told him he didn’t understand, but you can’t even lie.” The paper ripped completely in her hands, her eyes were bright, wet. ”It's not fair! You make me think—and then I remember—and I just—ugh!"
Perhaps, I wondered, I should have just lied….
I placed my hand over hers on the paper, stilling her frantic movements.
She froze.
We stood there in silence, her hands trembling under mine. I could feel her pulse racing in her wrist, could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. That exposed strip of midriff moved with each agitated breath.
I clasped her hand tightly, waiting until the trembling stopped. Then I spoke softly.
No, lies have their places; this is one.
"How many flowers are there in this shop, Ino, huh? How many varieties, how many types?"
She looked at me, confusion flickering across her face. Her lips parted, pink and soft and currently pulled into an uncertain frown, but she didn't answer.
I didn't wait for her to.
"What if someone told you," I continued, my thumb stroking over her knuckles, "that you could only keep one pot. One of your favorites. One that you loved. And only that one. The others... all the others—you'd have to leave them. Never touch them again. Never care for them. Never enjoy their scent or watch them bloom. Would you be willing to part with them? Discard them? Knowing they might never be cared for as delicately and lovingly as you've done?"
Ino stared at me, biting her lip hard enough that I worried she'd draw blood. Her light green eyes searched my face, looking for something.
Then she shook her head, slowly.
"It's not the same," she whispered.
"It is for me."
She turned to face me fully, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "But it's not fair! People aren't flowers, Eishin! People have feelings—complicated, messy, painful feelings—and you can't just... just water them and expect them to be fine! It's different! We're not—I'm not just some pretty thing you can keep on a shelf and visit when you feel like it!"
"You're right," I said, and watched her eyes widen in surprise. "You're absolutely right. People aren't simple, and they're not the same as plants."
I took a step closer. She didn't back away.
"But care," I said gently, "is still the same. No matter if it's a plant, an animal, or a person—if you care about something, about someone, you do your best to keep them happy. Safe. Blooming." I paused. "That's what matters. The care."
"That's a pretty speech." Her voice was sharp and defensive, even if it lacked any real intent. "But caring for multiple flowers in a garden is your job. Are you saying I'm your job? That all those other girls are your job too?"
"No." I lifted my hand slowly, giving her time to reject the touch. She didn't. I brushed her bangs behind her ear, revealing both of her pretty light green eyes. She blinked rapidly, fighting the conditioned instinct to lean into my palm. "I'm saying that having the capacity to care about multiple people doesn't diminish what I feel for any of them. Including you."
"Especially me, you mean." The words came out sarcastically. "I'm so special. So unique. Just like everyone else."
That… oddly sounds like something I would say. My girl could be rather spiteful when she wanted.
I cupped her face, my thumb stroking her cheekbone. Her skin was soft, still slightly flushed.
"You're my little flower," I said quietly. "And no matter what, I care for you. I want to take care of you. I'll be the only one who takes care of you the way you deserve. The way you need."
She closed her eyes, and a tear slipped free, tracking down to where my thumb caught it.
"That's so..." She exhaled shakily, her cheeks a nice rosy bloom. "That's so selfish."
For a moment, we stayed like that, her face in my hands, her eyes closed, both of us breathing in the floral-scented air of the shop. Then she turned away, reluctantly pulled away from my hand, and made for the shelves of flowers, and started picking blooms, giving up on preparing the paper first…. as well as the heavy conversation.
You can do that?
"I am selfish," I agreed, standing there awkwardly for a moment after such utterly embarrassing words. But I wasn’t finished. This girl loves to be chased.
She loved the pursuit the way sunflowers love the sun—turning toward it almost against her will. Public Ino was all poise and pressed petals, every angle arranged for the shop window and the clan crest; private Ino was soft and fragrant and terribly easy to read if you knew where to look.
She needed the chase, needed to feel pursued, to have her resistance overcome. It fed something in her, that core vanity that craved being desired enough that someone would fight for her, would refuse to let her go even when she pretended she wanted them to. The harder she pushed, the more she wanted you to push back.
It was a game. A game Ino Yamanaka always lost, or rather, she wanted to lose. To be caught. To have someone prove they wanted her badly enough to see through the act and claim her anyway.
And the thing was, Ino was easy. Never once put a challenge, melting like sugar in rain the moment you showed her real attention. Real care.
Ino Yamanaka was a smart girl, but she'd been falling into my hands since the first compliment I'd paid her, since the first time I'd called her beautiful and watched her pupils dilate and face heat up. Every "I shouldn't" was really "convince me I should." Every wall she built came with a door left conspicuously unlocked. She was a flower that bloomed readily under the right cultivation, and she knew it, and she loved it, even in the few occasions she pretended to resist.
That exposed midriff wasn't an accident. Those "secret" visits weren't rebellion, they were invitations. She wanted to be chased, caught, and kept. She just needed the theater of resistance first, needed to feel like she'd been swept away rather than having walked willingly into my arms.
Thus why I wasn’t so intent on lying. To simply put, there was no need.
While never this intense, all that talk about jealousy and fairness was merely a choreography.
Her sharpening the thorns to make sure I bled a little, me proving I’d keep reaching anyway.
It wasn’t about ending anything; it was about reaffirming the rules of our garden. Jealousy was water, attention to the sunlight, and the chase of the trellis she liked to climb.
The jealousy was just another way to make herself feel desired, to confirm her importance, to hear me say she was special one more time in one more way.
I grabbed my finished paper bouquet. It wasn't as professional or perfect as what Ino could do, but it would hold. I followed her lead, moving along the shelves and selecting flowers to fill it.
I really wasn't great with flower language and symbolism. Most of what I knew came from listening to Ino chatter about it, from watching her work, and from asking questions that made her eyes light up. But I'd retained enough. I knew her favorites. I knew what made her smile.
When she lifted her head from the daisies she'd been examining, she found me standing there with my bouquet held out toward her.
“Don’t wave that at me like it fixes anything. “ The corner of her eye twitched. She humphed, but it lacked the earlier venom. "Your creases are crooked. That's not earning you any points, you know. I don't care about—"
Oh, here we go. Tears to tsundere in under sixty seconds, emotionally volatile as ever. She wasn't mad anymore; she was performing not-mad, which meant she was stable enough and wanted me to work for it so she wouldn’t feel bad about her outburst. The jab wasn't rejection. It was bait. Court me properly, you bastard. Earn it.
"It's for you," I interrupted gently. "Bush clover and sunflowers. Your favorites."
Ino's eyes widened, her breath catching audibly. Her lips parted and her gaze dropped to the bouquet, really seeing it for the first time. I watched her process it, the specific varieties I'd chosen, the colors, the combinations that she'd once mentioned were her absolute favorites during a rambling conversation that she probably didn't even remember having.
But I remembered. Roughly.
She looked at the flowers, then at me, then back at the flowers. Her hands came up, hovering over the paper.
"I told you," I said quietly. "They were for someone special to me. And you are. You're special to me, Ino."
Her eyes went wide, genuinely wide, and then—
"Eishin!"
The bouquet was snatched from my hands as Ino let out an actual squeal. Not a cute, demure sound either. A full-throated, delighted shriek that probably had customers outside wondering what the hell was happening in here.
She clutched the flowers to her chest, spinning in a full circle like she was twelve years old again. Her ponytail whipped around with the movement, and that exposed midriff flexed as she bounced on her toes.
"You—these are—" She couldn't even finish the sentence, just pressed her face into the blooms and inhaled deeply, then pulled back with the brightest smile I'd seen on her in weeks. "Bush clover! The purple ones, not the pink—you actually remembered I said the purple ones are better, and—"
She spun again, and I had to step back to avoid getting smacked by enthusiastic flowers.
"—and sunflowers, obviously, everyone knows I love sunflowers but you got the right variety, the ones with the darker centers that I like, not those pale boring ones that everyone—" She cut herself off, grabbed my face with both hands—the bouquet somehow still clutched in one—and yanked me down to plant a kiss directly on my mouth.
It was graceless and enthusiastic, and she was smiling too hard for it to be anything but teeth-clacking chaos. When she pulled back, her eyes were sparkling.
"You actually listened," she said, and the wonder in her voice was almost enough to make me feel bad. Almost.
"Of course I listened," I said, catching her waist before she could spin away again. "I always listen to you."
There. There was some silver of lies, but I had enough consequences for telling the truth.
"Yeah, but—" She looked down at the bouquet again, her expression softening into something unbearably pleased. "But you remembered. The specific types and everything. Do you know how—" She bit her lip, and I could see her trying to rein in the giddiness, to play it cool. "I mean. They're nice. Really nice."
That was actually luck. The variety and color, I mean, that was sheer luck.
Too late, little flower. I'd already seen the uncomplicated joy, the vanity satisfied, the girl who just wanted to be courted properly and finally got exactly what she'd been waiting for. Ino really was such a simple girl. Well, relatively speaking.
"Just nice?" I asked, unable to help myself. “You said the creases are crooked.“
"They're perfect!" She clutched them tighter, that brilliant smile back in full force. "You're such a jerk for making me wait this long for a real bouquet—and don't think this fixes everything, because it doesn't, but—"
She looked at the flowers again, practically vibrating with happiness.
"But it's a really good start," she finished, softer now, though the excitement still radiated off her in waves.
She was so pleased with herself, so utterly delighted, bouncing in my arms like she'd won some grand prize. Which, in her mind, she probably had. The bad boy was finally courting her properly, finally giving her the romantic gesture she'd been craving.
Spoiled little thing.
Ino Yamanaka ran on emotions, not reason. The moment she felt overlooked, every word he said turned to noise. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand logic; she just didn’t care for it when her feelings were in the way. Logic soothed her mind for a minute; feelings ruled her the rest of the time.
The jealousy wasn’t really about me having others. She already knew that, accepted it in her own way. What broke her balance was how it made her feel in the moment, the drop in warmth, the fear of being less.
But that also worked the other way. A small gesture, a few soft words, a bouquet in her hands, and everything inside her rewrote itself. The anger, the doubt — gone. Ino didn’t resent him having others; she only needed to know she still mattered. Once that was clear, she was sunshine again, as if nothing had happened.
She wasn’t calculating or pretending. She just lived through whatever her heart told her next. And I found that fascinating. How someone so trained in mind arts could be so completely at the mercy of her own.
Yeah…. fascinating, but also frustrating at times, though it was often endearing.
I pulled her closer, until her body was flush against mine, the bouquet crushed slightly between us. My hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, fingers tracing the edge where fabric met bare skin.
Girls like Ino, already spoiled, easily get entitled and greedy if they get their way too often, they would start thinking they can pout and get whatever they want without consequences. They would climb over everything without a trellis; they need to be trained along the frame.
"You know," I murmured, low enough that she had to tilt her head up to hear me clearly, "a flower that blooms too wildly sometimes needs... careful pruning."
I felt her breath catch, saw her pupils dilate slightly even as confusion flickered across her face.
"What—"
"All this attitude," I continued, my thumb stroking slow circles against her lower back. "All this pouting and humphing and making me work for your smile..." I leaned down until my lips brushed the shell of her ear. "I think my little flower might be getting a bit too wild. Might need someone to remind her how to behave."
There were also the earrings, damn, was she good. Wasn’t I supposed to be jealous, too?
Ino made a small sound in the back of her throat—half gasp, half whimper. Her free hand clutched at my shirt, and I felt her press closer despite herself.
Little slut. The thought was fond, amused. She wasn't, not really, she was just a girl drunk on attention and awakening desire, but damn, the way she responded to the promise of discipline, the way her body knew exactly what I meant even as her mind scrambled to play innocent...
"I—I don't know what you—" But her voice came out breathy and wanting, and her hips shifted against me in a way that was absolutely not innocent.
"Don't you?" I let my teeth graze her earlobe, just barely. "Because I think you know exactly what I mean. I think you've been thinking about it since you left my hospital room."
Her face flushed that beautiful rose color, spreading from her cheeks down her neck. She bit her lip, and when she spoke, her voice was small.
"...sorry."
The word came out automatic, reflexive, but I could hear the want underneath it. The anticipation.
"Are you?" I pulled back just enough to look at her face. Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted. A few words were all the words one needed with her. "Because you don't sound very sorry. You sound like a spoiled little flower who got exactly what she wanted and thinks she can get away with anything."
"I'm—" She squirmed against me, and I wasn't sure if she was trying to get closer or create distance. Maybe she didn't know either. "I didn't mean to—I was just—"
"Shh." I pressed a finger to her lips, then dragged my thumb across her bottom lip slowly. "Lock the door."
Her eyes went huge. "What? But—I can’t—people will— Mom will—"
"Lock. The door." I said it softly, but with enough command that I felt her shiver. "We need to have a discussion about your behavior. And I don't think you want anyone walking in on that conversation. Do you?"
She shook her head quickly, still clutching her bouquet, but her breathing had gone shallow and rapid.
"Then be a good girl and lock the door, Ino."
Yeah, I thought, watching her practically tremble with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.
Definitely going to hell.
But when she looked up at me with those light green eyes, dark with want, her whole face flushed and needy, already moving toward the door before she'd fully decided to obey—
Well.
At least the company would be interesting on the way down.
