no matter how small of a flower bud [yamada tarou monogatari]
no matter how small of a flower bud
Mimura/Tarou | Yamada Tarou Monogatari | PG | ~1,500 words
Happy birthday to honooko! I hope that you feel better soon. ♥
It was only when they had arrived and were seated near an elegant bay window overlooking the restaurant's private lake that Mimura wondered if it had really been a good idea to come here after all. Tarou was throwing curious glances at the tall, stretching white pillars and the smoothly polished floors, eyes wide. Mimura felt guilty. It was Tarou's birthday, and he had just wanted to bring him somewhere special. He hadn't wanted to make Tarou uncomfortable.
All his worries were dispelled, however, when Tarou took his first bite of the wild mushroom sformato amuse-bouche and startled, visibly jolting in his seat.
"Ah," he stammered, staring at his plate in profound wonder. "It's so good." He licked his lips, closing his eyes and sighing happily. "Mimura-kun, you have to try this!"
Mimura knew that people at the nearby tables were staring them, but he didn't care. Tarou's happiness was infectious. He let Tarou feed him bites of seared foie gras - it was the same food, the same unchanging surroundings he'd seen any number of times, but it felt so fresh and exciting and strange to see it through Tarou's eyes. Tarou's praise of the food was so unrestrained, so sweet and sincerely appreciative that their waiter blushed and lost his cool façade under the full blast of Tarou's smile and the chef himself appeared to present Tarou with the chocolate-cream cake the Mimura had ordered specially made for his birthday.
Tarou's eyes were almost as wide as the dessert plates. He glanced up at Mimura, the candle flames reflecting in his eyes. "It's such a big cake," he whispered.
Mimura laughed, embarrassed in front of all the kitchen staff and dining room staff and curious onlookers who had crowded around the table to sing 'Happy Birthday' for Tarou. "Then maybe a big wish will come true."
It was amazing, Mimura reflected a few minutes later, how Tarou could charm an entire room to the point where fussy, prune-mouth old society ladies were cooing over him as he carried plates of cake to their table, and where the head chef of a five-star restaurant was personally boxing up leftovers for Tarou to bring home to his family - amazing that he could bring so much warmth and happiness everywhere he went - and yet make Mimura feel special, set apart.
"Thank you, Mimura-kun," Tarou said as they left, leaning against Mimura's side as they walked towards the limo where Isogai was waiting, eyebrows raised at the containers piled in their arms. "I had a wonderful time."
"Anytime," Mimura said, "What did you wish for?"
"Aah." Tarou sounded almost disappointed. "I didn't know what to wish for. So I just wished that Mimura-kun could have a birthday as happy as this one!"
Mimura's chest felt tight. "You should make a wish for yourself."
Tarou gave him a lopsided smile as they loaded the containers of food into the trunk. "It would make me happy," he assures Mimura. "Since Mimura-kun made me happy on my birthday."
"You idiot," Mimura muttered, squishing himself into corner of the backseat as far as possible from Tarou. It was either that or hug him until Tarou couldn't breathe anymore.
*
Mimura knew that something was up - well, really, it wasn't hard to tell, subtle wasn't exactly in Tarou's vocabulary, although he tried as best he knew how. But Mimura played along, agreeing to help Tarou look at that assignment for Sakaki-sensei at his house, as long as Tarou promised to come back to his place for cake afterwards.
"SURPRISE!" The roar of sound seemed like it could nearly blow out the door on the tiny, ramshackle house, and Mimura blinked, confronted with a riot of multi-coloured streamers hanging limply from every surface and post, and six tiny pointy newspaper hat-covered heads beaming up at him, and Tarou's mother clapping delightedly.
Tarou took advantage of Mimura's temporary shock to carefully arrange an intricately folded newspaper hat on his head. "Happy birthday," he said, trying to tuck in Mimura's ears so that hat fit better. "I know it's not much, but I made dinner and I was hoping you'd stay."
Mimura let Tarou fuss with his hat, feeling warm inside somehow. "I don't mind at all," he managed around the lump in his throat, "Thank you."
Tarou smiled at him, and he cupped Mimura's cheek for a second, his palm rough and warm. "Surprised?"
Mimura smiled weakly, deciding not to remind Tarou that he had bought the streamers yesterday when they were at the supermarket together, raving over what a great sale they were. "Very. Really, you didn't have to - "
Itsuko tugged on his arm, bouncing impatiently. "Mimura-anchan, come sit with us. There's presents!"
Tarou laughed, letting go of Mimura. "You'd better go with them. They spent all morning wrapping them."
Mimura always liked the noisy riot and activity of the Yamada household, the way that the shabby walls felt infused with a rich warmth. He always felt welcome, always felt wanted, always felt at home. He let the assorted Yamada siblings tug him down over to the table. They climbed all over his lap, shoving carefully-wrapped newspaper parcels at him and bickering amicably about whose he should unwrap first.
"It's really simple," Tarou warned, setting down bowls of rice on the table as Mimura was admiring the purple and yellow drawing of a panda that Natsumi had made for him.
"Don't be like that," His mother scolded him. She smiled at Mimura. "He worked really hard to make it."
"Oh-," said Mimura, while all of the Yamada children gave hushed 'Ooooh''s of appreciation as Tarou proudly placed a hefty, birthday cake-shaped hamburger patty on the table. "It's…a really big cake," he finished lamely. Tarou's grin outshone the candles stuck all around the top.
"So you can have a big wish," Tarou said matter-of-factly.
*
"Ah! An-chan didn't give Mimura-anchan a present!" Saburo blurted later, as they were clearing away the remains of the watermelon.
"That's not - " Mimura protested.
Tarou just laughed, untying his apron and slipping it over his head. "That's because it's waiting for him somewhere else."
Yamada-san piled Mimura's presents carefully in a bag made from an old rice sack, with soft blue cloth handles sewn on. "Don't worry about cleaning up, either of you. We'll take care of that."
They walked back to Mimura's place slowly, silently. The summer sun was dipping slowly, the air heated and thick.
"So where's my present?" Mimura asked, half-joking, as they ambled through his gate, Tarou humming off-key to himself.
"In the garden," Tarou said seriously. "Cover your eyes, okay?" He took Mimura's hand, slowly guiding him forward.
Mimura walked forward carefully, one hand over his eyes. "You hid it in my own house?"
He heard Tarou chuckle. "I've been here all week getting it ready."
Mimura thought back, frowning. Tarou had been over every night, but there was nothing unusual about that. He was a bit better at secrets than Mimura gave him credit for, it seemed.
"Okay, you can open your eyes," Tarou announced, halting Mimura.
Mimura opened his eyes slowly, looking around. It was just the garden, nothing out of the ordinary or different -
Except for the small, leafy plant newly transplanted into fresh black dirt, right in the beds in front of Mimura.
"Moroheiya?" Mimura asked, confused. He bent down to examine the tiny, sturdy green stalks, fingering a leaf. A vegetable was a bit of a weird present, even for Tarou.
"Mmm. Kocho-sensei let me transplant some from his greenhouse." Tarou squatted down next to Mimura. "I thought that the flowers looked bright and happy. Kocho-sensei said that they mean 'the impatience of happiness'."
Mimura touched the tiny, silky petals of the little yellow buds on the thick stems. They were the color of pure sunshine, vivid against the dark green leaves. "Thank you," he said after a moment, realizing that Tarou was still watching him. "I love it."
"I wanted to do something for Mimura-kun," Tarou fidgeted next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Because you're always taking care of me. But I didn't know what you wanted."
Mimura stood, dusting off his pants. He offered Tarou a hand, pulling him into a hug. "Thank you," he murmured in Tarou's ear. "It was a wonderful birthday."
Tarou made a soft, pleased noise against his shoulder. "Happy Birthday. What did you wish for?"
Mimura stood still for a moment, holding Tarou close. Something inside him held still, and he held his breath, deciding.
"Secret," he said finally, feeling fear win out. This felt too comfortable, too easily breakable to risk.
Tarou laughed at him, untangling himself from Mimura's arms. "You have to let me know if it comes true, then."
"You'll know," Mimura said, and then, "I'll make an arrangement when the blossoms get big enough." He can see it in his mind already.
"And you can make a stew with the leaves when they get big enough," Tarou said practically.
Mimura laughed. "Come on. Grandad gets impatient when he has to wait for cake." He shoved Tarou in the direction of the house, their arms brushing together as they walked back, shadows lengthening in the fading sunlight.
Happiness may be impatient, but Mimura can wait - for now.
FIN
Corchorus, also known sometimes as Japanese globeflower, is a yellow-flowered, perennial, rosaceous plant, seen in old-fashioned gardens. Also known as moroheiya, the leaves can be eaten as green leaf vegetables and the plants can be cultivated as as a source of vegetable fiber. Trust Tarou to pick a plant that's both pretty and ridicuously practical.
Mimura/Tarou | Yamada Tarou Monogatari | PG | ~1,500 words
Happy birthday to honooko! I hope that you feel better soon. ♥
It was only when they had arrived and were seated near an elegant bay window overlooking the restaurant's private lake that Mimura wondered if it had really been a good idea to come here after all. Tarou was throwing curious glances at the tall, stretching white pillars and the smoothly polished floors, eyes wide. Mimura felt guilty. It was Tarou's birthday, and he had just wanted to bring him somewhere special. He hadn't wanted to make Tarou uncomfortable.
All his worries were dispelled, however, when Tarou took his first bite of the wild mushroom sformato amuse-bouche and startled, visibly jolting in his seat.
"Ah," he stammered, staring at his plate in profound wonder. "It's so good." He licked his lips, closing his eyes and sighing happily. "Mimura-kun, you have to try this!"
Mimura knew that people at the nearby tables were staring them, but he didn't care. Tarou's happiness was infectious. He let Tarou feed him bites of seared foie gras - it was the same food, the same unchanging surroundings he'd seen any number of times, but it felt so fresh and exciting and strange to see it through Tarou's eyes. Tarou's praise of the food was so unrestrained, so sweet and sincerely appreciative that their waiter blushed and lost his cool façade under the full blast of Tarou's smile and the chef himself appeared to present Tarou with the chocolate-cream cake the Mimura had ordered specially made for his birthday.
Tarou's eyes were almost as wide as the dessert plates. He glanced up at Mimura, the candle flames reflecting in his eyes. "It's such a big cake," he whispered.
Mimura laughed, embarrassed in front of all the kitchen staff and dining room staff and curious onlookers who had crowded around the table to sing 'Happy Birthday' for Tarou. "Then maybe a big wish will come true."
It was amazing, Mimura reflected a few minutes later, how Tarou could charm an entire room to the point where fussy, prune-mouth old society ladies were cooing over him as he carried plates of cake to their table, and where the head chef of a five-star restaurant was personally boxing up leftovers for Tarou to bring home to his family - amazing that he could bring so much warmth and happiness everywhere he went - and yet make Mimura feel special, set apart.
"Thank you, Mimura-kun," Tarou said as they left, leaning against Mimura's side as they walked towards the limo where Isogai was waiting, eyebrows raised at the containers piled in their arms. "I had a wonderful time."
"Anytime," Mimura said, "What did you wish for?"
"Aah." Tarou sounded almost disappointed. "I didn't know what to wish for. So I just wished that Mimura-kun could have a birthday as happy as this one!"
Mimura's chest felt tight. "You should make a wish for yourself."
Tarou gave him a lopsided smile as they loaded the containers of food into the trunk. "It would make me happy," he assures Mimura. "Since Mimura-kun made me happy on my birthday."
"You idiot," Mimura muttered, squishing himself into corner of the backseat as far as possible from Tarou. It was either that or hug him until Tarou couldn't breathe anymore.
*
Mimura knew that something was up - well, really, it wasn't hard to tell, subtle wasn't exactly in Tarou's vocabulary, although he tried as best he knew how. But Mimura played along, agreeing to help Tarou look at that assignment for Sakaki-sensei at his house, as long as Tarou promised to come back to his place for cake afterwards.
"SURPRISE!" The roar of sound seemed like it could nearly blow out the door on the tiny, ramshackle house, and Mimura blinked, confronted with a riot of multi-coloured streamers hanging limply from every surface and post, and six tiny pointy newspaper hat-covered heads beaming up at him, and Tarou's mother clapping delightedly.
Tarou took advantage of Mimura's temporary shock to carefully arrange an intricately folded newspaper hat on his head. "Happy birthday," he said, trying to tuck in Mimura's ears so that hat fit better. "I know it's not much, but I made dinner and I was hoping you'd stay."
Mimura let Tarou fuss with his hat, feeling warm inside somehow. "I don't mind at all," he managed around the lump in his throat, "Thank you."
Tarou smiled at him, and he cupped Mimura's cheek for a second, his palm rough and warm. "Surprised?"
Mimura smiled weakly, deciding not to remind Tarou that he had bought the streamers yesterday when they were at the supermarket together, raving over what a great sale they were. "Very. Really, you didn't have to - "
Itsuko tugged on his arm, bouncing impatiently. "Mimura-anchan, come sit with us. There's presents!"
Tarou laughed, letting go of Mimura. "You'd better go with them. They spent all morning wrapping them."
Mimura always liked the noisy riot and activity of the Yamada household, the way that the shabby walls felt infused with a rich warmth. He always felt welcome, always felt wanted, always felt at home. He let the assorted Yamada siblings tug him down over to the table. They climbed all over his lap, shoving carefully-wrapped newspaper parcels at him and bickering amicably about whose he should unwrap first.
"It's really simple," Tarou warned, setting down bowls of rice on the table as Mimura was admiring the purple and yellow drawing of a panda that Natsumi had made for him.
"Don't be like that," His mother scolded him. She smiled at Mimura. "He worked really hard to make it."
"Oh-," said Mimura, while all of the Yamada children gave hushed 'Ooooh''s of appreciation as Tarou proudly placed a hefty, birthday cake-shaped hamburger patty on the table. "It's…a really big cake," he finished lamely. Tarou's grin outshone the candles stuck all around the top.
"So you can have a big wish," Tarou said matter-of-factly.
*
"Ah! An-chan didn't give Mimura-anchan a present!" Saburo blurted later, as they were clearing away the remains of the watermelon.
"That's not - " Mimura protested.
Tarou just laughed, untying his apron and slipping it over his head. "That's because it's waiting for him somewhere else."
Yamada-san piled Mimura's presents carefully in a bag made from an old rice sack, with soft blue cloth handles sewn on. "Don't worry about cleaning up, either of you. We'll take care of that."
They walked back to Mimura's place slowly, silently. The summer sun was dipping slowly, the air heated and thick.
"So where's my present?" Mimura asked, half-joking, as they ambled through his gate, Tarou humming off-key to himself.
"In the garden," Tarou said seriously. "Cover your eyes, okay?" He took Mimura's hand, slowly guiding him forward.
Mimura walked forward carefully, one hand over his eyes. "You hid it in my own house?"
He heard Tarou chuckle. "I've been here all week getting it ready."
Mimura thought back, frowning. Tarou had been over every night, but there was nothing unusual about that. He was a bit better at secrets than Mimura gave him credit for, it seemed.
"Okay, you can open your eyes," Tarou announced, halting Mimura.
Mimura opened his eyes slowly, looking around. It was just the garden, nothing out of the ordinary or different -
Except for the small, leafy plant newly transplanted into fresh black dirt, right in the beds in front of Mimura.
"Moroheiya?" Mimura asked, confused. He bent down to examine the tiny, sturdy green stalks, fingering a leaf. A vegetable was a bit of a weird present, even for Tarou.
"Mmm. Kocho-sensei let me transplant some from his greenhouse." Tarou squatted down next to Mimura. "I thought that the flowers looked bright and happy. Kocho-sensei said that they mean 'the impatience of happiness'."
Mimura touched the tiny, silky petals of the little yellow buds on the thick stems. They were the color of pure sunshine, vivid against the dark green leaves. "Thank you," he said after a moment, realizing that Tarou was still watching him. "I love it."
"I wanted to do something for Mimura-kun," Tarou fidgeted next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Because you're always taking care of me. But I didn't know what you wanted."
Mimura stood, dusting off his pants. He offered Tarou a hand, pulling him into a hug. "Thank you," he murmured in Tarou's ear. "It was a wonderful birthday."
Tarou made a soft, pleased noise against his shoulder. "Happy Birthday. What did you wish for?"
Mimura stood still for a moment, holding Tarou close. Something inside him held still, and he held his breath, deciding.
"Secret," he said finally, feeling fear win out. This felt too comfortable, too easily breakable to risk.
Tarou laughed at him, untangling himself from Mimura's arms. "You have to let me know if it comes true, then."
"You'll know," Mimura said, and then, "I'll make an arrangement when the blossoms get big enough." He can see it in his mind already.
"And you can make a stew with the leaves when they get big enough," Tarou said practically.
Mimura laughed. "Come on. Grandad gets impatient when he has to wait for cake." He shoved Tarou in the direction of the house, their arms brushing together as they walked back, shadows lengthening in the fading sunlight.
Happiness may be impatient, but Mimura can wait - for now.
FIN
Corchorus, also known sometimes as Japanese globeflower, is a yellow-flowered, perennial, rosaceous plant, seen in old-fashioned gardens. Also known as moroheiya, the leaves can be eaten as green leaf vegetables and the plants can be cultivated as as a source of vegetable fiber. Trust Tarou to pick a plant that's both pretty and ridicuously practical.
