Mina regretted letting the fox spirit stay the moment Senka stepped into the shopfront.
She looked normal, at least. Mostly. Her ears had vanished, and her tail was hidden—somehow. Mina hadn't asked. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. But the moment Senka leaned against the counter with that little smirk on her lips, Mina realized that the chaos hadn't ended. It had merely relocated.
"You're going to scare the customers," Mina muttered, sweeping the petals off the counter.
Senka tilted her head. "Why? Do I not look sufficiently charming?"
"You look like you're going to flirt with someone's grandmother," Mina said flatly.
"Mmm." Senka's grin widened. "Only if she buys chrysanthemums."
"Out."
"But you said I could help."
"I said you could. That doesn't mean you should."
Senka twirled a strand of her silver hair. "You're no fun this morning."
Mina narrowed her eyes and handed Senka a basket. "Fine. If you're so eager, go restock the chrysanthemums and carnations. Carefully. Don't mix them."
She turned toward the back shelves—just in time to hear a suspicious thump.
Mina sighed.
Moments later, Senka returned, a single carnation tucked behind her ear. "You never told me what the flowers meant."
"What?"
"You said not to mix them. But you didn't say why." Senka leaned forward, the carnation bobbing jauntily. "Tell me, little florist. What does this mean?"
Mina eyed her warily. "That you've already done something wrong."
"No, no." Senka pointed to the flower. "The carnation. What's it say?"
Mina hesitated. "Depends on the color."
"This one's pink."
"Then it means gratitude. Or sometimes fondness."
Senka's grin was immediate. "So you're saying I'm fond of you."
Mina groaned. "No, I'm saying you're misusing store inventory."
Senka didn't budge. "What about chrysanthemums?"
"White ones are for loyalty. Yellow means lack of love. Red—don't even touch the red ones."
"Too scandalous?"
"Too complicated." Mina turned away before Senka could see the faint warmth creeping into her cheeks.
The morning passed in fits and starts. Mina handled customers while Senka hovered—never quite in the way, but always just close enough to be noticed. She made a game of guessing flower meanings, often wrongly. Mina corrected her only when absolutely necessary. She wasn't going to indulge the fox's whims more than she had to.
Still… it was hard to ignore the faint warmth in the air.
At one point, Senka's tail made a sudden reappearance—though Mina only saw it as a white blur dashing past the flower table.
Crash.
Mina whirled around. "What was that?"
"Nothing," came the sing-song voice from behind the tulips.
Mina marched over. "Senka—"
She stopped short. The fox spirit stood frozen in place, a ceramic pot broken at her feet and a clearly guilty look on her face.
Her tail was flicking back and forth like a lazy cat's.
Mina pressed her fingers to her temple. "That pot was antique."
Senka looked suitably abashed for about three seconds. "Then it lived a long and noble life."
Mina pointed toward the broom. "Clean it. And if you knock anything else over with that tail, I will tie a bell to it."
"You'd do that?"
"Try me."
Senka laughed as she retrieved the broom, sweeping slowly and dramatically. "You're so serious."
"I have to be. Someone has to run this shop properly."
There was a beat of quiet before Senka asked, more softly, "Do you always work alone?"
Mina glanced up. Her hands paused over the bouquet she'd been wrapping. "Yes."
"No assistants? No family nearby?"
"No."
Senka didn't press further. She only nodded and resumed sweeping, but Mina could feel her curiosity like a brush of wind against her back.
She returned to her flowers, letting the scent of lavender and peonies fill her lungs.
"You know," Senka said after a while, "the flowers really don't lie."
Mina blinked. "What?"
"You said so yourself. Each one means something. Fondness. Loyalty. Love. Even grief. That's… honest. In a way people usually aren't."
Mina's hands stilled.
"Maybe that's why I like this place," Senka continued.
"You said you were staying because I made you good tea."
"That too."
Mina looked up. Senka was watching her with that same golden gaze—not smug, not teasing. Just curious. Present.
The moment stretched a little too long.
"I'm going to put those chrysanthemums on the back rack," Mina said, breaking the silence.
Senka's grin returned. "Shall I protect you from rogue petals?"
Mina gave her a look. "Just don't flirt with the ferns."
"No promises."
Later, after they closed, Mina found herself staring at a small pink carnation tucked beside the register. Her name was scribbled on a tag beside it, in surprisingly elegant script.
She didn't throw it away.
But she didn't ask about it, either.
---
Note:
Currently at chapter 12 (free) on Ko-Fi
https://ko-fi.com/ rabi08
---
I am also currently translating a GL novel on Ko-Fi (for free):
[Striving for Success in Ancient Times]