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"C'mon brain think! How can I tell him in an indirect way that I only want him as a friend? How?" Pacing along the length of her room, Fuuko thought back of the times Domon had shown her affection. It was nearly impossible to count. But she didn't want to remember that now.
"Think Fuuko, think."
Could she write him a note, telling him to buzz off? No, she wasn't the kind to hide behind a paper. Talk to him? Yes, it was a possibility, but would he listen to her? Or she had another choice, ignore him. But that wouldn't help if he kept sending her little gifts. Like the flower. She had planted it neatly in a pot and had planned to give it back to Domon. Maybe when she was doing that, she could talk to him. Ok, she would do it, if her guilt would let her that is.
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He sat on the bench,
alone. A glum look on his face, Domon looked at the sky, the ground, the
dragonflies dancing over the water, anything as long as his mind didn't
picture her. That Goddess of Wind. He felt a tap on his back, groaning,
he shifted his position on the bench to see who had tapped his shoulder.
"Fuuko!"
No doubt he was shocked to see her standing there. After offering her a seat on the bench, he noticed that she had a small flower pot in her hands, containing a familiar looking flower.
"Domon, I've been looking for you all over the place."
"How...how did you find me then?"
"I recalled that you once told me that whenever you had to think, you would come here."
"Oh," That was all he could say. But he still didn't quite get something.
"So why are you trying to find me for?"
"To return this to you," She simply replied, placing the pot in his hands. Once she had done so, she stood up. Domon's instant reaction was to stand up too. But Fuuko gently made him get back to his original position."I've got something to tell you," Was her expaination. Drawing in a long breath, Fuuko started to speak, her voice remorse.
"Domon, please, I'm not romantically interested in you. Not in the least. To me, you're just an extremely good friend and I treasure our friendship. But please, I can't offer you anything more then that. I'm...I'm like a flower. Give me enough space, nutrients and I'll grow well. But give me anymore than enough, I'll wither and die. I hope you can understand Domon. Pretend that I'm that flower in your hand. Water it well, and it'll bloom beautifully, but too much water will kill it."
(Erm...looks like the title wasn't the only thing that I 'stole' from a1...)
Domon was at a lost
for words. That was one of the longest speeches she had ever said. It hurt
him alot to admitt it, but it was also quite true. He had been giving her
too much attention. "Yes, Fuuko, I get what you're trying to say. Maybe
all along what I've been trying to do was to get a best friend of mine
to become even more. Don't worry Fuuko, I'll find another flower to take
care of. I've killed this one by giving it too much." Lifting up the pot
with the almost-dead flower in it, Domon carefully dug it out. He buried
it in the earth, patting the soil down firmly. Next, he went over to a
patch of brightly coloured flowers and unearthed
a petite blue flower
with a bright yellow middle. He then planted it with utmost care into the
pot and beamed at Fuuko. "I'm going to take good care of this flower now
Fuuko! I'm not going to shower it with too much attention now!"
Fuuko gave him a grin. Whacking his shoulder playfully, Fuuko grabbed his arm. "I heard that the new arcade in town has just opened. So I challange you to match!"
"You shouldn't have said that Fuuko Kirisawa! Prepare to be defeated!"
"We'll see about that Domon!"
"Err...before we head off to the arcade, can I drop this flower off at erm...someone's house first?" Fuuko eyed him, a smile playing on her lips.
"And who is this someone Domon? Is it that golden-haired girl who has been trying to make a conversation with you lately?"
"Well...err..."
"Just as I though...so what are you waiting for? Lets get going!" Like old friends, best friends, the odd combination of a purpled-haired beauty and a tall-built man walked down the road, not a wisp of romantic thoughts between them. That part of their lives were over, never to be dug out again.