@cajoled asked: 🌸 is it a flower from taki………. Maybe :eyes: | open meme | 🌸: put a flower in my muse’s hair
It’s an ostentatious flower, boldly colored, and with broad petals expanding as if in mid-embrace. It stands out immediately among all the flora here. Kakuzu obligingly looks it over and comments, “It certainly suits you”, although his tone is mild (if not somewhat amused)—tempered only because Hashirama extended the trust to show him this garden in the first place. He is surrounded by greenery here, all grown by Hashirama’s steady and loving hand. Kakuzu truly feels as if he is stepping into a quiet part of Hashirama’s very being, and he prizes the fact that he is privy to it in any capacity, big or small.
Hashirama chuckles a little and thanks Kakuzu—although, he adds quietly, that flower Kakuzu is looking at is not the one Hashirama wanted to show him. Kakuzu raises a brow—“It isn’t? It’s the loudest flower here,” he says, blunt, although Hashirama knows him well enough to know he’s teasing—but does not protest as Hashirama takes his hand and guides him further into the garden.
Hashirama’s touch is light, but Kakuzu can tell he’s nervous. It’s the air about him: the typical boisterous, confident God of Shinobi is uncharacteristically pensive and thoughtful as they walk towards the back of the garden. Kakuzu wonders what this flower could possibly be to have Hashirama like this. Perhaps it’s another toxic one that Kakuzu explicitly told him to stop having around else he would die of asphyxiation—
They reach the back of the garden, and suddenly, Kakuzu stops in his tracks. He blinks, not sure if he’s really seeing what he thinks he is, because hanging low from a tree is a cluster of soft, light-colored, small and delicate flowers, and they are unmistakably from…
Kakuzu’s already moving to them as Hashirama begins to explain. He’s talking about how he knows Kakuzu misses Takigakure sometimes, that he wanted to make Kakuzu feel more at home here, that he had done some of his own research to grow something he thought Kakuzu would like from his own country—he does like them, right?
Kakuzu turns back to Hashirama even as he cups a single tropical flower in his hand. It is so small, it barely covers two of his fingers. Hashirama’s look is eager, if not somewhat uncertain. Inexplicably, Kakuzu feels his own expression soften underneath his mask. His lips even turn up in the slightest of smiles.
“Yes,” says Kakuzu, “I like them. Thank you, Hashirama.” How very much like Hashirama to do something like this—and as a surprise, no less. Kakuzu does wonder how much Hashirama researched these flowers. He doubts Hashirama knew the greater significance of their meaning, but the coincidence seems almost too great to dismiss as simple happenstance.
But seeing Hashirama simply break into a grin and bound over without another word about it confirmed to Kakuzu that he is unaware of the symbolism—else this entire escapade would have been ten times more dramatic. As it is, Hashirama embraces Kakuzu and says how happy he is Kakuzu likes them, and pulls down Kakuzu’s mask to drink in Kakuzu’s smile before kissing him. Kakuzu returns it, his free hand tracing Hashirama’s neck, before Hashirama breaks away and cheerily reaches for a flower. Deftly, Hashirama picks one off from its cluster and begins to reach for Kakuzu’s hair to put it in.
“Hashirama,” Kakuzu starts, smile fading into a mild frown. He instinctively leans away a little, but as if on cue, Hashirama’s trademark pout crosses his previously radiant face. He says something about how adorable Kakuzu will look, and how well the color will suit Kakuzu’s complexion—all things Kakuzu doesn’t care about—but with a sigh, he says, “Alright, alright, fine.” Denying Hashirama this after all he’s done seems unnecessarily mean-spirited, and anyways, Hashirama will not stop complaining about it for days if Kakuzu doesn’t.
Hashirama immediately brightens again, and he happily places the flower in Kakuzu’s dark hair. Kakuzu feels his cheeks heat up a little as he reflects once again on the flower’s cultural meaning. Hashirama only seems to take this as general embarrassment, however, as he laughs and kisses Kakuzu again, wrapping an arm around his middle to hold him close and placing a hand on his face to run a thumb along his scars. Despite himself, Kakuzu gives in: he leans into Hashirama’s touch and puts a hand on the back of his neck, tangling fingers in his long hair, and enjoys the moment.
And if Hashirama never finds out the flower is traditionally used for weddings—well, Kakuzu supposes, perhaps it’s all for the best…
