Caramel Macchiato

If he thought about it, Jin could blame his brother entirely on his meeting with Tsubaki. He hadn't made any plans to go to the florist's himself, would never have even contemplated the absurdity of stepping into that floral-scented madhouse. Jin had even changed his surname to disassociate himself from his family, sad as it was to see Ragna's disappointed frown, so when he got the call from his older brother to get their sister something for her birthday or else (and when Jin had prompted what Ragna would do to him if he ignored Saya's birthday altogether, he was met with a snarl and the telltale click of being hung up on) he did so with reluctance.

It had been a nagging not-quite-worry in the back of his mind as he sipped his coffee (a caramel macchiato, and if anyone had anything to say about it, he'd been told his glare was enough to freeze a man solid), strolling down the streets as he neared his office—huge building, lots of windows for birds to shit on, full of cubicles and shirts and ties—when he saw the little store. It stood out from the urban city look, a tiny brick building with a display window, frosted lettering spelling out Yayoi Bouquets on the glass. Growing along its walls were scraggly vines bearing the weight of tiny blossoms. Unkempt as they were, Jin didn't seem at all bothered by the reaching growth, something that struck him as a little strange. He looked down at his shoes, pristine as always, and his tie was straight along his ironed shirt. Imperfection was something he couldn't handle, didn't have to deal with, so the dodgy-looking flower shop should have dredged up his uttermost contempt.

Instead, Jin found himself walking through the front door, egg-shell white paint flaking off of it. A set up of bells chimed overhead as he let himself in, eyes already scanning the interior. The walls were cream-colored, more floral displays propped up along them and arranged on tables. Another door was open in the back, allowing in fresh air and bright sunlight, and he could see the glass walls of a greenhouse through it. Lastly stood the counter on the far right, where the register was surprisingly state of the art in comparison to the archaic feel of the establishment. Racks of candies and other treats were set up alongside it, nestled around a tiny shelf of greeting cards.

The store was empty. The disapproval that should have reared its head outside the shop finally pulled Jin's lips down into a scowl. Surely this place wouldn't stay afloat if this was how the owner handled customer service. Reaching back for the doorknob, Jin pulled the door open, jingling the bells above once, before closing it, causing them to jingle again. He repeated the process one more time before, through the open door at the back, he heard the sound of running feet.

The girl to come dashing into the store proper was a very vibrant thing, if Jin would have to choose an adjective. Her hair, long and the strangest shade of red he'd ever seen, just tinted enough that he might call it pink, was a shock of color against her skin and the pale, calming colors around her. Her cheeks were also stained with color, flush with exertion or embarrassment, but above all else, the color that caught his attention and held it was the deep, ocean blue of her eyes.

"E-excuse me," she addressed him through a few gulping breaths, flattening fly-away strands of hair into their rightful place. "I was out in the greenhouse. I apologize for any inconvenience on your part."

Inconvenience? Jin ignored the woman, instead walking over to the register and placing his travel mug on the counter top. Rolling up his shirt and jackets' sleeves a tad to check his watch, Jin decided that if he spent too much time in this place there certainly would be an inconvenience in his arrival at work, those forlorn stacks of paperwork missing his presence and the bite of his pen's nib dragging across them on all of the dotted lines. Yes, it would truly be a pitiful thing if he showed up late to sign papers.

Jin was mildly surprised when he looked up from his watch to see that woman, green apron stretched across her front and smudged with dirt, a plastic tag pinned to it reading Tsubaki, standing behind the counter, looking over the register at him. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

Ragna's mysterious warning buzzed through his brain. Normally something so vague or silly would put Jin out, especially where it concerned his sister Saya. It wasn't that he particularly hated the girl, but when she was born he'd developed some sort of apathy towards her, an emotionless state of not-quite caring that started too many fights in that too small house. Sickly, she'd garnered a lot of attention from their parents and especially from Ragna, who took to having a baby sister as easily as a fish took to water. Maybe it was because he had experience growing up with a younger sibling, despite their closeness in age, that Jin was never expected to learn, and as such hadn't. Saya, seeming to sense the wall of space he had erected between them, only seemed to totter after Ragna and they tolerated each other equally (until their fights hit critical mass and the vicious insults strewn about were cruel). Eventually the loss of Ragna's complete, undivided attention hurt less, drowning into that same apathy he had been told was rather obscure for a child.

Once adoring Ragna like nothing else on the planet, Jin couldn't help but take something out of his brother's warning. Tolerant of Saya that he was, he would definitely feel some kind of ache if he hurt Ragna. If Ragna wanted Jin to play Family with him, he would do it, if only to appease the hero from his childhood days.

Saya sent him birthday gifts. Sometimes he wondered if Saya sent them of her own volition or if Ragna had to leave her veiled phone calls, too.

"Yeah, actually. I need some flowers delivered across town," Jin answered gruffly as he righted his clothes. He didn't speak the flower language, but he sure as hell could point a finger at flowers and call it a job well done.

"Of course. Anything specific? Might I ask the occasion?" chirped the Tsubaki woman, once again stepping out from behind the counter, waving an arm out to refer to the entirety of the store. "There's sure to be no problems here."

Jin ignored the single prying question. He walked off toward the nearest display, examined the different kinds of flowers like he cared, and then pointed at one. "I'm going to need some of those. The anemones."

"Certainly, sir," Tsubaki agreed readily, coming up beside him. With careful hands she pried the potted arrangement of white flowers from its place between, according to the tags protruding from the soil, the peonies and irises. "Will that be all, sir?"

"That's all I'll need," he replied smoothly. Part of him wanted to snap at her for being nosy, asking too many questions, while another kept him quiet. Just as Jin had to mindlessly scrawl his name across dozens and dozens of sheets of paper to do his job, this woman had to ask dozens and dozens of inane questions to do hers.

With the same quiet agility, Tsubaki again left Jin a little startled by how quickly she made it to the register. Jin was pulling out his wallet when she slid a tiny card the size of a fun-size candy bar and a pen across the counter to him. Staring down at it, he asked, "What is this nonsense?"

"It's for the recipient, sir. You did say you wanted these delivered, right?" Tsubaki tapped the card. "To and from, unless you want these delivered anonymously, then just to."

"And if I said I didn't want to write anything on there?"

Tsubaki shrugged, but began to drag the card back towards her. "Then the recipient will be very confused when the anemones get to their destination, sir."

Before she could take it back fully, Jin picked up the pen. It was a cheap thing, a ballpoint probably worth 10 cents and came in a pack of twenty. Wordlessly, Tsubaki slid it back to him, and Jin scribbled down the bare necessities (To: Saya, From: Jin – Happy Birthday). In the same silence he placed and card and pen back into Tsubaki's hands.

Nodding, Tsubaki rested the card delicately into the arrangement of anemones. "All I need now, sir, is the recipient's name, the destination, time, and date of delivery."

Coming into this shop was a mistake. After a sigh, Jin told her Saya's name and address, and said, "Tomorrow, anytime you want. All I care about is that she gets them tomorrow and that is it."

Tsubaki's eyes didn't move from his face for a long moment before she, too, sighed and finished jotting down the information on a tiny, yellowed notepad that had quite possibly come from nowhere before it disappeared just as efficiently. The register pinged and the screen flashed the damage to his wallet, a price he paid without complaint. The receipt rolled out of the machine with a minute ticking sound, something Jin figured meant he was home free, but the cursed woman opened her mouth again. "Caramel macchiato, hm? Don't look so surprised, I can smell it from here. You have good taste, sir."

She tore the receipt cleanly, placed it into his hand while he just stared at her, feelings so ambivalent crashing through his mind and leaving the whole thing a wreck inside his skull.

With a smile, Tsubaki cheered, "Thank you for taking the time to stop by and purchase one of our gracious arrangements here at Yayoi Bouquets, and have a pleasant day!"

The next day, when Jin got home from work and draped his jacket over the back of his recliner, he saw his phone's answering machine flashing its little LED light. He played the message and heard Saya's voice, crackling with the machine's poor audio output, happily thank him for the flowers and telling him that he was such a sweetheart for remembering. Unsure if he should be annoyed or pleased with himself, Jin deleted the message.

An hour later, Ragna called, thanking him for his participation, and hopefully he'd have the balls to actually come around next year.

A few days after Saya's birthday and everyone's sudden urge to be so damn proud of him, Jin found himself sitting alone at one of the tables of the Starbucks he made time to go to every day before work. Having Sundays off, Jin usually spent those doing something else, something productive or enrapturing, but today he was wasting the day away, glaring icily at the drink mocking him from the table top. Caffe misto, cafe au lait, just wasn't the same as a caramel macchiato.

The barista, a hot blooded man that Jin could never give half a mind to caring about, teased him again, like he had in the past few days when he noticed Jin trying to cut himself off from his standard order cold turkey. At some point that Jin couldn't remember he'd apparently become so much of a regular the idiot workers had his behavior down to an art form. Jin huffed as he picked up the drink—not the same, not as delectable—and thought that it just gave him another reason to mix it up.

The stupid girl at the flower shop shouldn't have made such an impact on something so unimportant, yet painfully necessary in his life. Once she'd recognized the drink steaming from his mug he'd found himself unwilling to be labeled as That Guy That Drinks Girl Drinks. Never before had he thought that it would matter what kind of coffee he liked, and none of his co-workers had cared or mentioned it (and if they had, they didn't after the initial jeer). So he'd gone through roasts and espressos, the bitterness an unwelcome change as opposed to the sweetness of the caramel his tongue savored.

Jin grimaced when the doors to the Starbucks crashed open, the sound accompanied by a chorus of giggling girls. Perhaps girls wasn't quite accurate, the lot of the customers around his age, but their chattering reminded him of the foolish squadrons of snotty teenagers he remembered disdaining from high school.

He caught sight of flaming hair and blue eyes before he almost choked on his not-good-enough beverage.

The gaggle of girls approached the same moronic barista that had tried to push his buttons (to no avail, as Jin wasn't really listening as he held out the few bucks to pay for today's experiment), two hyperactive girls squealing over—and someone up there must really hate him—caramel drinks.

"I think I'm gonna go all espresso today, guys! No caramel!" one girl said, but he couldn't see her face, obscured as it was by the massive hooded jacket swamping her figure. "C'mon, Scruffy, one cup, full to the brim with espresso."

God, Jin hoped he'd really do it.

"No, don't do that, Mr. Bang," the girl from the flower shop, Tsubaki, he remembered for reasons unbeknownst to him, cut in. "And Tao, if you drink all that espresso...I'm pretty sure you'd die."

The other hyper girl laughed wickedly.

"Makoto, don't laugh at that!" squeaked the blond girl at Tsubaki's side.

"Fine, fine," the girl said as she tried to stifle her giggles. "C'mon, Bang, just hook us up with the macchiatos."

"Lots of caramel in mine!" the hooded girl cried.

Jin frowned into his drink. He personally thought the cup full of espresso would have been just as hilarious as the Makoto girl seemed to think. And with the added insult to his coffee-injury, he hoped the barista, idiotic as he was, was prone to making mistakes and gave them all something superbly bitter.

The next day, a gloriously horrible Monday morning (and he worked afternoons, how the hell had he been convinced to switch shifts with Clover, the wily asshole), Jin shuffled into the Starbucks grumpier than he could remember being in a long time. There was maybe a different barista because he couldn't quite remember the idiot's face, but Jin didn't mind that so much as he let his eyes drift to the menu. Caffe misto was probably going to be just as much of a no-go as everything else, and his eyes searched the menu imploringly for something that didn't sound like he'd be retching it up into a porcelain toilet bowl.

He was about to give up hope and just order some americano when someone walked into the Starbucks from behind him. Uncaring and dreading the taste of the drink, Jin didn't bother to look until he felt a light tapping on his shoulder. Sluggish, tired reflexes delayed him, but he turned his head to look over his shoulder to see blue eyes in a smiling face.

"I thought it was you," Tsubaki greeted with a wave. "Do you normally come in so early?"

"No," he answered monotonously. He couldn't deal with this.

Tsubaki made a thoughtful sound. "Then when I came in yesterday, could that have been you I saw sitting over there?" She pointed over to the table he had been sitting at, her jacket's dark sleeve falling back to reveal dark bruises along her wrist. Swiftly, she pulled the sleeve up to cover them as thought it was all old hat.

"Yeah, I was there," Jin answered, staring at her wrist even as she dropped her hand back to her side. He averted his eyes a moment later; it was none of his concern what kind of situations she got into. Probably just tripped and fell into her stupid flower displays.

It was a feeble theory, but it could have been as true as his craving for a goddamned caramel macchiato.

At his confirmation, Tsubaki gasped. "So it was you? And I just ignored you like that! How rude of me! I'm so, so sorr—"

"Are we friends?" Jin asked suddenly.

Swallowing the apology, Tsubaki frowned, a little pursing of her lips. "N-no."

"Then don't worry about it."

She looked unconvinced, something steely hardening in her eyes, and Jin cringed. Saya had that look whenever she was going to do something he wouldn't approve of, even if she didn't know he wouldn't approve. It never failed when he saw her like that, and he loathed the consequences later that day. "Very well. I still feel bad, though."

"Don't."

"I wasn't finished talking."

"...Don't."

To Jin's dismay, that steely something hardened even further and Tsubaki began to approach the register. "I still feel bad, so I'm going to buy you a drink." To the barista, she said, "Two venti caramel macchiatos, but make one skinny, please. You can put them under Tsubaki Yayoi."

There it was, the consequence. Jin was not a dainty damsel that needed to be treated at a pretentious coffee house. Belatedly, and luckily he hadn't blown up at her for paying for his drink, he realized just what she ordered for him, and he figured once, just this once, he could forgive her for being a shit.

"What if I think a venti is too large?" Jin queried for the sport.

"Did you want a smaller size?"

"No."

Something passed over her features that could have been cross, but she graciously let the matter drop. "Then I suppose it doesn't matter, right?" The only answer she got was a grunt.

Honestly, Jin wanted to just collect his macchiato and take off, but when Tsubaki finally got their drinks she seemed to have different ideas. The blasted woman, leading him along like he was on an invisible leash, made her way to the same table he'd sat at yesterday, took his former seat, and waved him into the seat across from her. As much as he'd positively love to swipe his drink, being discourteous wouldn't do him any favors. He sat gingerly, poised to leave at any moment, and Tsubaki beamed.

"How did your girlfriend like her flowers?" she asked not unkindly.

Jin could have had an issue with the nosy nature of her question, but he was more affronted and disgusted with the context. He wrapped his fingers like claws over the coffee cup when she handed it over, never more offended in his entire life due to one silly inquiry. "She's not my girlfriend. She's my sister, and she likes them enough that I'm not in trouble."

"Estranged, are you?"

With the first sip of a blessed drink, the disgust slowly washed from his veins. Jin didn't like a lot of things, but caramel, most definitely, calmed his nerves like a junkie with his fix. "Something like that."

Tsubaki shrugged as she inhaled the scent of her drink. Dimly, he wondered if she had the same need for the sticky substance as he did. "I don't know what that's like, having brothers or sisters. It's just been me, my parents, and the flower shop."

Tsubaki Yayoi. Yayoi Bouquets. "I see." Jin didn't care. Rather, he didn't normally care, and was scared when he found the trivial information interesting.

In the end, he ended up fifteen minutes late to work and Relius Clover never asked him to switch shifts again.

Having come to terms with the fact that he craved caramel macchiatos, Jin didn't bother to feel emasculated when he gave the idiot barista his order. He hadn't seen Tsubaki since that fated morning two weeks ago and his agitation had settled until he felt mostly normal. Mostly, because lately his thoughts ran amok with visions of red hair and blue eyes to mock the luster of sapphires. This disconcerting, random assault from his subconscious unsettled him when he pretended he was doing something important in his cubicle, ignoring the bitching and moaning from his co-workers and the e-mails pinging into existence in his computer's inbox. The forms were not getting done and he found his tie was sometimes askew.

Clearly, Tsubaki Yayoi was a problem to be dealt with quickly.

His lunch break found Jin stepping confidently into Yayoi Bouquets, but that confidence was easily shaken behind his masquerade. If he was frank with himself, he'd realize he had no clue what in the hell he thought he was going to get done by visiting the flower shop, what he'd say to Tsubaki.

Jin was both unsurprised and disapproving when he realized that Tsubaki seemed to have an issue with keeping the store manned. The scents from the multitude of flowers assaulted his nostrils, the cheery bells jangled overhead, but no one was there to greet him upon his arrival. Before Jin had to repeat his last performance of passive aggressiveness, though, a semi-familiar face barreled in from the door to the greenhouse.

"Where's Tsubaki?" he demanded from the blond girl—and now that he got a good look at her, she was irritatingly similar looking to Saya. Just her face was enough to put him on edge, coupled with the fact that he didn't want to see the blond girl from the group trip to the Starbucks in that hideous apron. It looked much better on the store's owner.

Any greetings died on the girl's tongue, her face losing its healthy flush as though he'd asked for something unforgivable. She stuttered under Jin's glare, the expression growing more and more pronounced as she waffled his time away. Under the rising pressure she managed to say, "Tsubaki's not doing well today, so I'm helping her. D-did you have plans with her? I wasn't told—"

"Shove it. I didn't ask you whether or not she was doing well, I asked where she was, you imbecilic monkey," Jin barked. Really, of all the people he least wanted to talk to, this girl was going to take the cake from all of them. Tsubaki's choice in company was baffling.

"Mr. Jin, please don't talk to Noel that way."

Jin wouldn't admit that the sudden voice surprised him, keeping his displeased face perfectly even as the startle sent a shiver down his spine. Blondie, Noel, wasn't nearly so composed and the squeaky scream she uttered was shameful. "Tsu-Tsubaki!"

Coming in from behind Noel stood the object of Jin's spiraling thoughts, a trowel clutched in one hand and her other cupping her left cheek. She looked shifty even as she tried to chastise him with her eyes, destroying any imitation of intimidation, and Jin scoffed, "There you are. You and I...there's a problem. I need to speak to you about this immediately."

"Now's not the best time," Tsubaki started to argue.

"Now's the best time. It's not like you're working real hard, what with your lines of customers, and my break extends beyond the hour," Jin rebutted before she could continue whatever lame excuse she would come up with. As he watched her, he could see the exhaustion weighing heavy on her body, so her mind would be in even worse shape. He didn't feel like sifting through the river of bullshit she'd no doubt spew.

The grim expression on her pallid features grew darker as she spat, "Fine. I'll freshen up and meet you at Starbucks in fifteen minutes. You're paying for my macchiato this time."

Because it was easiest not to disagree to her terms, Jin accepted them with a firm nod. Tsubaki disappeared from the shop again, brandishing the trowel like a knife, and Noel must've had some kind of backbone because she drew up the courage to approach him. Whispering, she said, "Whatever it is that's going on, please don't blame her. Tsubaki hasn't done anything to anyone, so..."

"That's enough, mongrel," Jin grumbled at her before he retreated from the flower shop.

Jin was pleased when Tsubaki arrived fifteen minutes later, on the dot, and he rewarded her with her caramel macchiato. She sat down heavily, as though her legs didn't want to hold her up, but she managed to crack a small smile. "You're a man of your word," she said with something like relief. "And so am I. Whatever it is I've done to upset you, I will bear full responsibility. Let's talk, but it would be best if we kept this meeting short."

"In a hurry?" Secretly he agreed to keeping this meeting at the minimum possible length, if only so he could go back to the office and not get scolded for being a miserable asshole, but he didn't want Tsubaki to think he would sympathize with her. After this entire mess in his head was sorted out, he'd gladly never see her again.

Tsubaki turned her chin up, staring down at him (Jin scowled hard). "I wouldn't want my boyfriend to get the wrong idea."

He didn't want to see her mug again, yet his brain automatically took that piece of information and filed it as important. "Of course not, Miss Yayoi."

Tsubaki nodded as though another tenuous deal had been struck between them. The motion caught on the light glaring through the windows and Jin frowned, eyes narrowed. Why had she suddenly looked so strange to him?

"What is it that we need to discuss?" Her voice was hard and sharp as diamond, made for business transactions. Jin didn't like it; reminded him too much of stuffed shirts that called down mandates to him, their lower class lackey, like they were gods. His own macchiato wafted up to his nose and Jin pushed it away before looking down at himself. Shirt tucked into his pants, secured with a leather belt. Feeling a little liberal, Jin tore the ends of his shirt out of his pants and let them settle loosely around his waist. Tsubaki watched him with speculating eyes, tilting her head again.

There it was: that strangeness about her face. The light didn't seem to mold to her facial contours correctly, giving her the illusion of a face made of cake or sand. "...Just how much make up are you wearing right now?"

"E-excuse me? What does my make up have to do with you, Mr. Jin?" She looked incredibly offended and Jin didn't care.

"Answer me first and then we can get to my business," Jin told her even as a little voice in his head told him that he really didn't have anything to discuss with her anyway and that he was being a tremendous jackass, but for now the pressing issue was, to him, the overabundance of foundation packed onto her skin.

Tsubaki clenched her jaw, more blood in the water, and somehow managed to say evenly, "I'm wearing just a bit. It's no big deal, okay?"

An unexplainable surge of anger welled up beneath his skin. Jin slammed his hands on the table, propelling himself up from his chair. Silently, dangerously, he wrapped his fingers around Tsubaki's arm and pulled her from her seat, ignoring her cry of confusion and the frightened stares of the barista and the few patrons speckled throughout the establishment. He steered her to the back of the building, shoved her into the men's restroom (where she really began to struggle against him), and released her near the sinks.

"What is the meaning of this?" thundered Tsubaki as she pulled her arm close to her, big eyes wide with angry tears beginning to glisten in them. Jin didn't say anything, merely pulled a few paper towels from the dispenser and ran them under a faucet (which temperature, he couldn't remember; didn't bother to remember). "I asked you what your problem was!"

"Shut up. How dare you lie to me? Just a bit, my ass." Jin suddenly snarled, voice low. He grabbed her again, took the wet towels and began to scrub at her face even as she pushed away and protested. Her skin was turning pink under his harsh administrations, but the make up began to wash away. When enough of it was gone, Jin's stormy mood wasn't quelled, only corralled for the time being. "What the hell is that, Tsubaki?"

The instant the towels were removed from her face, Tsubaki's hand was cradling her cheek again, as though to shield it from him. She was too slow, however, and Jin saw the ugly, green-purple bruise invading the softness there.

"D-don't look! He...he didn't mean to, okay? Terumi isn't like that!" Tsubaki spilled, voice wavering in a rush of panic. One of the bulbs overhead flickered, giving Tsubaki's pale features a drastically terrified appearance. Her fingers trembled against her face.

Jin only thought she looked like a frightened animal, cowering from the hand that struck it.

"Don't talk to me again. Don't look for me. Stay away from me and my friends and my store. Please, Mr. Jin." Tsubaki's tremulous voice suddenly came out strong even as she looked like she was going to break down and cry. With speedy footsteps, she carried herself out of the restroom, unwilling to look back to see Jin's teeth grind together, the paper towels in his fist get thrown to the floor.

When he left the bathroom, all eyes were glaring at him. Jin ignored them, abandoning his and Tsubaki's drinks, as he stomped out of the store.

"Hey, Jin? You don't sound so good?" Ragna's voice came through the phone and Jin hated that he was right.

"I haven't had Starbucks in like a week. It sucks."

Jin wasn't the kind of guy to read the newspaper. He had a computer and an array of websites that told him all the news he'd ever need, and magazines were fruitless ("No, Miss Faye-Ling, I'm not subscribed to Cosmopolitan, no matter how 'pretty' you think I am."). It was just his luck when the kid at the newspaper stand around the corner accidentally tipped a stack onto the pavement. Out of some misplaced mercy on the poor kid, he'd helped and purchased one of the papers. Only when he got to the office, settled into his cubicle with a bottled water (notably not a caramel macchiato), did he bother to open it up.

Local news was always boring as hell and he skimmed through the articles, raising an eyebrow when he read something about a murder. The article used vernacular he didn't care for ("Crime of passion? A man went and lost his mind and murdered someone, don't make it sound like something it isn't," he'd mumbled), but he managed to keep his attention fixed on it.

Arrested an hour after the crime was reported was a man named Yuuki Terumi. The paper had oh-so-kindly provided a picture; he reminded Jin of a snake, through and through.

Also provided by the paper was an image of the victim, pre-torturous murder. Jin dropped his water when it was halfway to his lips, sending a miniature rainstorm onto his cubicle's floor. Tsubaki Yayoi's smiling face met his, and he began to read the article with more fervor than ever.

He barely knew the girl. She'd abruptly cut him from her life just as he'd wished to sever her from his. Their meetings had been few and far between. But to see her name and her face in accordance to something so dark struck something inside, strangled the air from his lungs.

"Jin, you're a jerk!" Saya cried when he threw his last bit of baggage into the trunk of his car. Jin looked over his shoulder to see her standing teary-eyed in the house's doorway.

Jin felt the wave of annoyance that usually accompanied a conversation with Saya pass over him, drowning him. It looked like a screaming match was inevitable, if he felt the aggravation this early on. "Ragna moved out before even I did, and I'm the jerk?"

"Ragna always comes to visit, Jin. Just because you're eighteen now...!"

"Yeah. I'm eighteen now. You can't stop me from walking away and never coming back!"

"You're stupid! If you hate us so much, then fine! Go! See if I care, you big ninny!"

"Stay out of my life!"

Jin didn't even say goodbye to his parents. He threw the driver's door open, collapsed into the scratchy seat, and slammed the door behind him. The engine revved beautifully, like a call to freedom. He didn't look back.

"More anemones?" Saya asked instead of greeting him. The enormous grin on her face told Jin that she wasn't really annoyed with his gift-giving and she welcomed him into the house a moment later. It was warm like summer inside, the sent of peppermint hanging in the air. She took the flowers from his hands, that silly grin still in place. "Is this going to be an annual thing, Jin? You got me these last year! Be careful, or I might start calling you lazy."

"Whatever. Happy birthday, Saya."

With a giggle, Saya replied, "Thanks, Jin."

A/N: Guess who doesn't speak the flower or coffee language? Anyway, first dip into BlazBlue writing, hope you enjoyed!