Hanae Hirawa
blooming blossom
Nuharoo of Hummingbird Lane was getting married in winter instead of spring because the old astrologer on Crescent Street had told her that her husband would lose his hair in his mid-twenties if she did not marry him this season. His zodiac year made him prone to stress when his affections were unmet; such was any fate of any born the year of the tiger, but Nuharoo's future third husband was a water tiger, meaning his anxieties took a physical toll on him. He had complained for weeks to anyone who would listen about the tension in his jaws, the pressure at the back of his head, and how, at night, he couldn't breathe and thought he had died. Nuharoo, ever the confident dragon, had dismissed him with a cold wave, too busy with her tea business to think twice about her future husband's phantom ailments. She told him it was the wedding planning and that he was doing too much trying to match everything to her favorite color-- anyone would get a headache if they wanted to match the vibrant turquoise of Nuharoo's favorite flower, the jade vine.
'Why would a colorblind man like you try so hard?' She had raised her hands in exasperation when her future husband knocked over a bottle of ink he had brought to her to confirm whether it was the right color. Her other two husbands, silver in their beards, nodded in agreement with their wife while cleaning up the ink mess. 'You're distracting me, and I need to finish the contract's wording. Shoo, shoo.' Nuharoo didn't correct her one husband, the eldest whose round cheeks had thinned out in the last two years (giving him a more stately appearance), when he thrust the ink bottle back into the future husband's hands, purposefully smearing the ink into his clothes.
'Nuharoo likes him because he is so earnest,' A group of gossiping women would claim to each other down the street as if they had seen what happened in the back of Nuharoo's largest tea shop, 'Her other two husbands are so severe handling finances and operations, you'd think they were all siblings.' There were whispers of eventual disagreements and divorce if Nuharoo's new husband cried too much. 'But, if you think about it, maybe someone so honest is good for Nuharoo. I only ever saw her smile when holding his hand in the rain at his foolishness in holding the umbrella over her head while his shoulder and hair got drenched.'
"So you see," the young man was gasping between each word. He had spoken so much for so long and quickly that Hanae almost pitied him. "I am in quite the dilemma. Now I question whether the silk I ordered will match my envisioned color." He played with his long bangs that framed the shape of his face in a style that was currently popular and fashionable. He sighed, somber eyes dark with hopelessness. "Not that I even know what color that is other than a gray that's more green than usual."
"But," Hanae spoke up for the first time, fidgeting fingers only still when she clasped her tiny hands together. "Is it even possible to find ink the color of turquoise jade vine?" Hanae knew the color well. It was a stunning gift given to her mother long ago. Hanae grew the vine herself, though she had to keep it trim. The vine loved sunlight so much it'd steal it all for itself and let the other plants and flowers she grew die in the shade without her intervention. Last year, she traded the largest vine to Nuharoo for matcha, which was rumored to be the imperial intendenant's favorite. Whether that was true or not didn't matter-- it was now Hanae's favorite. Nuharoo's future husband looked down at her with now tears bejeweled in between his long, dark eyelashes.
"Don't tell me you've never been to the Hemoshi ink shop." He said with melodramatic inflection as he wiped his eyes free of tears. "They can make any ink. I hoped you could take this back, tell them the color is wrong, and then get the right one. Is that too much to ask for?" Hanae said nothing. "If it's a payment you seek, I'll give you ten silver more on top of what I am paying you to do the flowers for our wedding."
"Well," Hanae stammered, avoiding Nuharoo's future husband's crying face with a turn of her head. The young man fell to his knees so harshly that Hanae winced at the sound of the thud. He grabbed her hands, thought better of it, and bowed his head low. He was careful not to let his long hair, tied behind him, fall onto the floor. It was so shiny that even in the shade, it held the sheen of smooth silk.
"I beg of you! If you do this, surely Nuharoo will smile my way!"
"O-okay." Hanae took a step back, bumping back into her flower cart. Nuharoo's future husband raised his head, looking at Hanae with a glimmer in his dark eyes. The gossiping women leaned towards each other, dainty hands covering their mouths as they whispered. "Please, get up, you're making a scene." Hanae felt her cheeks get red. Why did this feel familiar?
Hanae had to close up her business early, though she thought it was probably for the best before someone else came to her to ruin her routine. Nuharoo's future husband had given her the bottle of ink that didn't match. It was too green, not that Hanae blamed whoever had made the ink. Nuharoo's future husband was prone to long explanations, which made him winded. She wondered if his description of the turquoise jade vine was accurate or if he had just told the ink maker to go off the title alone. Maybe he had said it was blue and green because of whatever descriptors he had heard others used.
She was thankful she was not colorblind, glad it was far more common in men than women.
"No wonder the reds never match in first weddings," Hanae murmured as she turned a corner to see the ink shop she had been too poor ever to go in. It was rather silly that the wedding planning was thrust onto the men if they couldn't distinguish between scarlet and crimson or cardinal and carmine. She pushed open the door and stepped into the ink shop. The smell of ink greeted her before anything else, medicinal yet smokey. The fragrance was not unpleasant, but it reminded Hanae how all the ink she bought smelled like burnt chemicals.
'Why would a colorblind man like you try so hard?' She had raised her hands in exasperation when her future husband knocked over a bottle of ink he had brought to her to confirm whether it was the right color. Her other two husbands, silver in their beards, nodded in agreement with their wife while cleaning up the ink mess. 'You're distracting me, and I need to finish the contract's wording. Shoo, shoo.' Nuharoo didn't correct her one husband, the eldest whose round cheeks had thinned out in the last two years (giving him a more stately appearance), when he thrust the ink bottle back into the future husband's hands, purposefully smearing the ink into his clothes.
'Nuharoo likes him because he is so earnest,' A group of gossiping women would claim to each other down the street as if they had seen what happened in the back of Nuharoo's largest tea shop, 'Her other two husbands are so severe handling finances and operations, you'd think they were all siblings.' There were whispers of eventual disagreements and divorce if Nuharoo's new husband cried too much. 'But, if you think about it, maybe someone so honest is good for Nuharoo. I only ever saw her smile when holding his hand in the rain at his foolishness in holding the umbrella over her head while his shoulder and hair got drenched.'
"So you see," the young man was gasping between each word. He had spoken so much for so long and quickly that Hanae almost pitied him. "I am in quite the dilemma. Now I question whether the silk I ordered will match my envisioned color." He played with his long bangs that framed the shape of his face in a style that was currently popular and fashionable. He sighed, somber eyes dark with hopelessness. "Not that I even know what color that is other than a gray that's more green than usual."
"But," Hanae spoke up for the first time, fidgeting fingers only still when she clasped her tiny hands together. "Is it even possible to find ink the color of turquoise jade vine?" Hanae knew the color well. It was a stunning gift given to her mother long ago. Hanae grew the vine herself, though she had to keep it trim. The vine loved sunlight so much it'd steal it all for itself and let the other plants and flowers she grew die in the shade without her intervention. Last year, she traded the largest vine to Nuharoo for matcha, which was rumored to be the imperial intendenant's favorite. Whether that was true or not didn't matter-- it was now Hanae's favorite. Nuharoo's future husband looked down at her with now tears bejeweled in between his long, dark eyelashes.
"Don't tell me you've never been to the Hemoshi ink shop." He said with melodramatic inflection as he wiped his eyes free of tears. "They can make any ink. I hoped you could take this back, tell them the color is wrong, and then get the right one. Is that too much to ask for?" Hanae said nothing. "If it's a payment you seek, I'll give you ten silver more on top of what I am paying you to do the flowers for our wedding."
"Well," Hanae stammered, avoiding Nuharoo's future husband's crying face with a turn of her head. The young man fell to his knees so harshly that Hanae winced at the sound of the thud. He grabbed her hands, thought better of it, and bowed his head low. He was careful not to let his long hair, tied behind him, fall onto the floor. It was so shiny that even in the shade, it held the sheen of smooth silk.
"I beg of you! If you do this, surely Nuharoo will smile my way!"
"O-okay." Hanae took a step back, bumping back into her flower cart. Nuharoo's future husband raised his head, looking at Hanae with a glimmer in his dark eyes. The gossiping women leaned towards each other, dainty hands covering their mouths as they whispered. "Please, get up, you're making a scene." Hanae felt her cheeks get red. Why did this feel familiar?
Hanae had to close up her business early, though she thought it was probably for the best before someone else came to her to ruin her routine. Nuharoo's future husband had given her the bottle of ink that didn't match. It was too green, not that Hanae blamed whoever had made the ink. Nuharoo's future husband was prone to long explanations, which made him winded. She wondered if his description of the turquoise jade vine was accurate or if he had just told the ink maker to go off the title alone. Maybe he had said it was blue and green because of whatever descriptors he had heard others used.
She was thankful she was not colorblind, glad it was far more common in men than women.
"No wonder the reds never match in first weddings," Hanae murmured as she turned a corner to see the ink shop she had been too poor ever to go in. It was rather silly that the wedding planning was thrust onto the men if they couldn't distinguish between scarlet and crimson or cardinal and carmine. She pushed open the door and stepped into the ink shop. The smell of ink greeted her before anything else, medicinal yet smokey. The fragrance was not unpleasant, but it reminded Hanae how all the ink she bought smelled like burnt chemicals.
