The bell above the door chimed softly as a customer left, the faint scent of lilies and chrysanthemums drifting in their wake. Hanabusa Florals was quiet again, sunlight spilling through the glass front and painting the wooden floors in golden streaks. Ayaka wiped her hands on her apron and glanced at the counter, where her father carefully tied a ribbon around a bouquet.
He looked older than he should have, wrinkles and eye bags etched into his face despite his younger age. The shop had always been run by three pairs of hands, but now there were only two. Her mother's touch lingered everywhere: the careful arrangement of vases on the shelves, the recipe card for seasonal teas tucked behind the counter, the tiny pressed flower framed on the wall. Each small reminder seemed to weigh heavier on Ayaka's chest.
She realized she'd been staring at her father for too long. Shaking her head, she forced herself back to work. Ever since her mother's death, her focus had slipped more often than she cared to admit. Too many mornings lost to heavy sleep, too many afternoons spent drifting in thought.
Itsuki tied the final knot around the bouquet and turned to his daughter. "Delivery to St. Luke's International Hospital, room 603," he said, his voice steady but tired. "Think you can handle it on your own?"
"Of course," Ayaka replied, brushing soil from her fingertips. A vine sprouted from the flowerpot in front of her almost instinctively, blooming into a bright dahlia. "I'll take care of it. You can rest for once, Dad."
Her father only sighed. In recent months he'd been working harder than ever, stocking new products, aromatherapy oils, herbal teas, little trinkets and charms — all to keep the shop alive.
Ayaka slipped her earbuds in as she packed the bouquet for transport. It was a single order, small enough to carry on her bike. "Room 603… that's for Rei-san again, right? I've lost count of how many times she's ordered from us. Maybe I'll get to see her son again. He's kind of cold, but not a bad guy."
Her father gave her a faint smile, though his voice carried worry. "Be careful on the road. Traffic's rough at this hour."
The ride from the shop to the hospital was long. St. Luke's sat in Akashicho, nearly an hour from Shinjuku by bike, but Ayaka didn't mind. These trips gave her room to breathe. The wind on her skin, the lingering smell of rain in the air, the hum of her playlist, for a while, she could almost pretend life was the same as it had been two months ago.
By the time she reached the hospital, her legs ached, but her mind was calmer. She carefully balanced the bouquet in her arms as she stepped through the automatic doors, exchanging a nod with the receptionist who already knew her face.
The elevator ride was quiet until the third floor, when the doors slid open and a girl stepped inside, long black hair pulled into a ponytail, sharp dark eyes, a patient's gown hanging loose on her thin frame. She looked pale, weary, as though she'd only just come from surgery. Their eyes met briefly before the girl looked away.
'Awkward,' Ayaka thought, glancing at the buttons. 'Should I say something? If I don't, it feels rude. But if I do, it'll sound weird now…'
The silence stretched until the girl spoke first, her voice tired but curious. "So… what are you doing here?"
"Oh, just delivering flowers for a patient," Ayaka answered.
"That's good." The girl hesitated, then nodded at the bouquet. "They're pretty. What are they called?"
Ayaka's face brightened instantly. "These are delphiniums. Aren't they beautiful? If you like flowers, our shop has all kinds." She reached into her apron and offered a small business card.
The girl chuckled softly at her enthusiasm, taking the card just as the elevator chimed. The doors opened, and Ayaka gave her a warm wave before stepping out.
She knocked gently on the door to room 603.
"Come in," a soft voice called.
Rei Todoroki sat by the window, her youngest son Shoto at her side. Ayaka greeted them both warmly, setting the bouquet into the waiting vase and adjusting the stems with practiced care.
Rei watched her quietly for a moment, then spoke. "How are you holding up, Ayaka? You look tired"
Ayaka froze, her hands lingering on the flowers. She forced a laugh, scratching her cheek. "The shop's been keeping us busy. Dad and I are managing. Don't worry about me."
But Rei's gaze was calm and knowing, like she could see past the smile. Ayaka lowered her eyes and straightened the ribbon on the vase. "These should last a while," she said quickly. "I'll bring something new next week."
Rei reached out, touching Ayaka's wrist gently. "Don't forget to take care of yourself"
Ayaka's throat tightened, but she bowed politely, forcing a smile. "Thank you, Rei-san. I'll keep that in mind."
After a few more pleasantries, she excused herself. The walk back through the hospital was quiet, her thoughts lingering on Rei's words. They pressed against her chest, heavy and sharp, as if reminding her of something she'd been trying to ignore.
The ride home felt heavier. The wind still brushed her face, the city still bustled around her, but she couldn't shake the thought that the world was moving forward while she remained stuck in place.
By the time she returned to the shop, her father was sweeping the front steps. He looked up, tired but smiling. "Welcome home."
"Yeah," Ayaka murmured, slipping past him into the shop. The bell chimed again, soft and familiar.
Her gaze caught, as it always did, on the small frame above the counter, her mother's pressed flower.
For a moment, she let herself feel the ache. Then she tied her apron once more and went back to work.
Because if she stopped moving now, she wasn't sure she'd be able to start again.