HI !! i just found your blog and followed and i'm so excited to read your works !!!!! i was wondering i could get a scenario (in english!) about Saigiku Jōno falling in love with a regular civilian (someone without an ability)? and his s/o is the opposite of him, very sweet and naive. i think it'd be really interesting to read about this!!!
thank you so much and have a good day/night!! take care ♥️♥️
Hi dear, thank you so so soooo much for your kind words, I really hope you would accept my sincere apologies for making you wait so long. Unfortunately I had a bad moment in my life, so I neglected for a while this blog, but now I'm here and I want to start from your LOVELY request! I love Jōno, he's one of my favorite characters and I crave writing about him! I hope you enjoy it. <3
Pairing: Jōno Saigiku x Reader
Warning: Gender neutral reader (they/them), probably uncorrect english, Jōno being Jōno.
Notes: It's a bit longer then I expected (it's more a one-shot than a scenario, btw), but I was inspired! It was hard to describe the way he fell in love without any visual expression, but I tried my best. Y/N is a florist!
Your first meeting was a mere coincidence.
It was an early summer afternoon and Jōno was walking down the street leading to the Hunting Dogs headquarter, perfect as always in his uniform and in his calm but rhythmical, elegant, proud pace. He was so upset, arguing with Tetchō-san about how disgusting was the idea to eat butter cookies with mayo on top, and then he suddenly sensed something new. He knew that street pretty well: smells, voices, sounds, people, he walked up and down that road so many times it had no secrets for him. But that day... that day something different caught his attention, strong enough to interrupt him from harshly scolding Tetchō-san. There was a new fragrance in the air, a caress to his heightened senses, a sweet and intoxicating scent. Jasmine, yes. The bold, unmistakeable and intense smell of jasmine flowers. But also... pink geraniums, so delicate, and roses too. A pleasant symphony of lilies and delphinium. He stopped his walk, slowly tilting his head toward the source of that beautiful smell.
«...You need flowers?» Tetchō-san asked, confused.
«You stopped in front of the new flower shop.»
«I know where the hell I stopped, shut up.»
The new flower shop, huh? It was the only one in the entire neighborhood and the crowd around the little store (Jōno heard an annoying interweaving of voices and heartbeats) showed how well it was welcomed by the inhabitants. But there was still something out of tune in that moltitude of environmental stimuli, something he didn't fully understand. A peaceful heartbeat, different from the others, a deep scent that had nothing to do with flowers. He heard a crystal-clear laughter, the most lovely sound he heard in a while, and then some hesitant steps getting closer and closer. When you talked to him, his brain went blank for a second o two.
And that was the scariest thing he ever felt in his young yet dangerous life.
Your voice pierced his mind and then exploded in his nerves. His hearing was delicate and sharp, he always said everything has it's own internal music: an interweaving of tones, rhythms, vocal inclinations that defines its pleasantness. Your voice was something out of any competition. It was an auditory paradise.
«I'm glad to meet you, people here keep talking about you. Since it is the open day, please, accept this as a little gift. I hope to see you soon in my shop, I'll wait for you.»
You put something in his and Tetchō's hands, and Jōno was sure you were smiling (he just felt it, like a shiver down his spine), then you went back to your customers. He was totally unreadable, in that moment, an inscrutable mask on his face, a calm attitude despite the strange feeling he was experiencing. He just approached your gift to his nose, gently holding it in his fingers, and deep inhaled.
«A white rose. It's nice.» Tetchō-san commented.
A white rose. His mind ran fast.
Purity. Innocence. Reverence. Humilty.
Flower language never fails.
«Yeah, nice. Let's go, we're late.»
Jōno started walking again, but for a second a soft smile, so distant from his usual grin, appeared on his soft lips.
It’s been exactly six weeks since that day.
Jōno sits all by himself in a lonely table at his favourite cafè. Goddamn, he loves that place. It's never too crowded, so he can rest his head in peace, they have his favourite coffee, some desserts he truly likes, and it's right in front of the flower shop. He doesn't wear his uniform, today, he took some free days after a long and difficult hunt. Well, it was an interesting hunt, he enjoyed every single moment of it and had a lot of fun torturing his prey, but now he really needs some time to recharge. He needs to stay away from his work environment, from the stress the other Hunting Dogs use to cause him, and as close as possible to something pleasant. He doesn't stalk you, he really doesn't. He genuinely likes to sit in that cafè and hear you talk with your customers, laugh with them, chant while you water the flowers. Listening to the variation of your heartbeat and of your breath jut makes him feel in peace. But today it will be different.
He finishes his coffee slowly, then he leaves a generous tip on the table and patiently wait for the moment you greet your last customer, before heading to the flower store. His entry is marked by the soft sound of his hearring, and he can hear you murmur something to a bouquet of peonies. He chuckles quietly, thinking it's kinda cute, but you notice him and Jōno can clearly hear your heart beating suddenly faster. He embarassed you, huh?
«Good... good evening, sir, I didn't hear you coming, my apologies!»
But Jōno isn't upset at all. He slowly walks with elegant pace among the flowers and his fingers soflty caresses some purple orchids. He's so calm, so unreachable, so ethereal...
«Is it true? Does speaking to plants help them grow faster?»
You violently blush at his insidious question. You hide your face behind a hand and laugh.
«I swear, sir, I don't always talk to my flowers. But I'm always alone here, sometimes it happens. Anyways, if you really want to know it, yes: showing plant some love and care make it grow stronger and faster, sir.»
The Hunting Dog listens to you silently, charmed by the way you talk about your work and flowers. He show you an enigmatic smile, leisurely reaching the counter.
«Jōno Saigiku. "Sir" sounds a bit too formal.»
He can't see your face but he feels that old shiver running down his spine: he's sure you're smiling again.
«Nice to officially meet you, Jōno-san. I'm Y/N L/N. How may I help you?»
It's not a surprise, but he already knows your name. Again, he's not a stalker, but find secrets and information is a crucial part of his job, so he's pretty good at it. He think nice names fit nice persons, anyways he wisely decides to keep it to himself; Jōno's not comfortable yet with such gentle thoughts about someone so he just smiles and patiently crosses his arm. It's the first time he's alone with you, and you're so close your perfume dulls his senses. Once again his mind goes blank for a second or two and once again he's terrified.
You have in your soft hands a terrible, dangerous weapon.
«Lilac. I need a bouquet of magenta lilac. The prettiest you have, thank you.»
Before you can even move, he already puts some money on the counter. Maybe he's in a hurry, you think, so you're pretty fast to react.
You disappear for a minute in the backroom and come back with a huge pot of fresh and fragrant lilac. Well, he asked for the prettiest flowers you have and that's exactly what you offer him. You start selecting the best flowers right in front of him and braid them with skilled hands, creating a lovely bouquet in a few seconds. He just listens to you: the way you move your hands, the way you caress every single corolla to find the best one, the way you use your mental scheme and creativity to realize something new. Your heartbeat is so calm it almost sounds like a lullaby.
«Is this for... someone special?»
You ask hesitantly, breaking the silence between you. You don't want to seem too nosey, you're genuinely curious about that man. Does he have a significant one in his life? A partner? A family?
«Maybe. I'm trying to figure it out.»
His answer is laconic, but the grin on his lips make your stomach hurt for a second.
«Well, if it's for someone "maybe" special, let's add a ribbon. What color?»
«I don't know. Any suggestion?»
«I'm not reliable, I would put yellow everywhere. It's my favourite color.»
You smile at him, and even if he can't see your smile he feels that shiver again. Then, with a satisfy and proud expression on your face, you put a yellow ribbon around the bouquet and you offer it to the young soldier behind the counter.
«Here. The prettiest lilac in town -and trust me, they truly are- with the prettiest yellow ribbon for someone maybe special. I hope they will be happy to recieve such a lovely bouquet.»
He stands in front of you, but against all expectations he didn't take the flowers. Jōno just approaches his face to the bouquet and deep inhales its intoxicating scent. His left index glides through the petals in a gentle touch, a slow and quiet study of your masterpiece that ends with a smile.
«Perfect. You truly are a natural, y/n-san.»
He feels proud of himself whe he hears you holding your breath for a moment. You truly are sensitive to praises, he will remember it (oh yes, he will). Keeping his back straigh, then, Jōno waves his hand in your direction and steps back from the counter.
«Well, I think it's a goodbye. 'Till the next bouquet, of course. It was a pleasure, y/n-san.»
He carefully articulates your name before turning his back and slowly walk away. But your voice suddenly stops him, loud and worried.
«Wait, Jōno-san! Your bouquet.»
You tend your arms holding lilacs in his direction, but he suddenly raises his left hand to interrupt you. You can see an enigmatic smile reflected in the showcase of your flower store.
«No need to worry. I think my lilac bouquet already reached the right person.»
And then he walks out of the door, leaving you confused and surprised at the same time. You hold the bouquet to your chest, an intense frown on your face, and the meaning of his action suddenly hits you with the force of a typhoon.
Yes, flower language truly never fails.
