NOTE: The last Jar AU is mine and I chose Renharu because I am so trash for them in every way goodbye. xox M
Neighbors who only meet because I cannot get this stupid jar open, can you help? AU
It’s been the longest day. New employee orientation in the morning, an endless round of interviews in the afternoon — Chiharu is thankful for silence. No talking. No decisions to be made, no responsibilities to follow up on. She sheds her office attire like a snake sheds skin, discarding the day’s problems with it.
Barely 7pm and she’s ready for bed. Knotting the sash of her favorite robe, Chiharu steps into her tiny kitchen, forces herself to go through the motions of having dinner. Dinner alone, because this is her life, with its multitudes of social interactions by daylight and serene solitude by night. And she could find someone to eat with, someone to sit across from her at this small table with its two perfectly matched chairs, but Chiharu is fine with only herself for a dinner date. Nothing wrong with present company.
She nudges the fridge door shut with an elbow just as the bell rings, and the sound is so foreign that it takes a moment for her to make the connection. Chiharu rarely has visitors. In all honesty, she isn’t usually at home to receive them.
Warily, she moves to the door. Chiharu ticks off the list of possible interruptions in her head. No deliveries expected, no plans with her small selection of friends. Who could it be, and why?
Chiharu turns the knob. After all, why not?
She finds the answer to that question standing in the hall outside her apartment with a cat tucked under his arm and a jar of pasta sauce in hand.
Notes: YOSHI YOSHI my love after Renharu. Why are you so difficult to write. Please enjoy ~
Neighbors who only meet because I cannot get this stupid jar open, can you help? AU
Reiko stared at the jar.
The jar just sat there.
It was mocking her, she was sure of it. Pasta sauce had never infuriated Reiko as much as it did right now. Half prepared to give up on it and resort to ramen for dinner, she huffed and reached for it again. As much as she would like to be done with it, this was a matter of principle now. Of pride.
Teeth gritted, Reiko tried to open the jar for the thirtieth time this evening. Once again, she failed. The lid refused to budge, stuck there as if glued which she was just about ready to believe it was. It had to be. Reiko was no body builder, but she’d never had a problem opening a jar before.
Beaten by pasta sauce. Someone ought to put that on her headstone; this would be the death of her.
The logical thing would be to ask someone for help, but having only recently moved into the building, the only person Reiko knew here was the elderly Mrs. Koizawa two floors down. As for tenants on her own floor… the only one she was even vaguely familiar with was a silver haired man living across the hall from her.
And frankly, from the few glimpses she had of him, he unsettled her.
Maybe someone else would be able to help…?
Jar in hand, Reiko ventured outside with the intention of knocking on some doors. Not the one across from hers, but—
And of course, the laws of the universe dictated that the very door which flew open at that moment, startling her so badly she pressed herself flat against the wall with the jar held in front of her face like a shield, was the one she wanted to avoid.
Wonderful.
“You okay?”
Reiko carefully lowered the jar. Blue-violet eyes stared at her, the owner standing in front of the door with arms crossed over his chest. “Cat got your tongue there, little miss?”
“I’m fine,” she said too late, flushing. “You just startled me. Is there a reason you feel the need to slam your door open or…?”
“Can’t see how that’s any of your business,” was his terse reply. His eyebrows drew together as he studied her, the expression on his face critical. “You always carry a jar of pasta sauce around?”
“... That’s not any of your business.”
He snorted at her response. “See? It’s not hard of a concept to wrap your head around.”
God. Reiko had probably asked for that, but it didn’t mean it aggravated her any less. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she did a half-turn. “Whatever. Sorry for disturbing you.” She didn’t need this right now, not when the jar was giving her enough grief.
“Wait.”
Reiko froze.
“Let me see that.”
She spun to see the man holding out a hand. “Excuse me?”
“The sauce. You want it opened, right?”
This was a surprising turn of events. Reiko really didn’t know how to react to his offer; it came out of left field. “Um, yeah, but why are you offering?”
“Because you look kind of lost and tragic? Seriously, what is with that expression? You’re killing me here.”
Wait, what? “I’m sorry my face bothers you,” she bit out, unsure why he’d care in the first place. “Do you make a habit of trying to play knight in shining armour for every damsel in distress?”
He looked offended. “Me? A knight? You’ve got to be kidding.” Sighing, shook his hand impatiently. “Well? Are you going to give it to me or not?”
Reiko wasn’t a damsel either, but really did need this jar opened. “Fine!” She shoved it into his hands and waited, foot tapping the ground.
“Fine!”
She watched the man’s expression slowly morph into one of confusion as the lid stayed stuck on tight despite his best attempts to dislodge it. Soon, it gave way to determination as he applied more force, but nope. It stayed firmly on. “This—what is this? Ridiculous,” he spluttered. “How can anyone—this is stupid!”
His distress made her giggle. She understood the feeling far too well. At the sound of her laughter, he stopped wrestling with the offending item and stared at her. “Excuse me? Did you just laugh at me?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes. No? Yes.”
He glowered at her.
“Yes,” Reiko repeated. “Sorry. But watching you struggle with that jar is hilarious.”
“Struggle? I’ll have you know I have this perfectly under control…!” He tried twisting the lid again. Objectively, Reiko had to admit he was handsome even with that part puzzled, part annoyed expression on his face—though she wasn’t sure why she was noticing this.
Bad Reiko.
“It’s fine if you can’t get it open. I wasn’t expecting much anyway.” The last part slipped out; she didn’t mean to sound so ungrateful. “I mean, I don’t need it that badly,” she backtracked.
“Isn’t this your dinner?”
“I can have ramen.”
“Ramen,” he echoed, scandalized. “Nuh uh. Not happening. You’ll have to come to dinner with me. I’m not letting you eat that crap.”
“Um, what?” Was that a dinner invitation?
“Dinner.” He tucked the jar under his arm and bent down to peer at her face. “Hope you like pizza.”
“How is pizza any better than ramen?” she wondered out loud. “And—hey, I don’t even know your name!”
Sticking a hand out, he said, “Ueda Yoshi. And pizza is better than everything.”
“Tachibana Reiko. I’m confused.”
“At?”
“You. Me. This. Everything.”
“Don’t make it more complicated than it has to be.” Yoshi ran a hand through his disheveled hair and began walking towards the elevators. “C’mon, little miss. We better go before your stomach starts growling.”
How did she get here? How did she go from struggling with a bottle—still tucked under Yoshi’s arm—to getting acquainted with her frightening neighbour (who wasn’t very scary at all), to going for dinner with him? How could this have happened?
“Ueda! At least put the jar away.”
He pivoted and returned to her. Reiko watched in bafflement as he flicked the top off the pasta sauce with ease and passed it over to her. It was open. Just like that, it was open.
Gaping at him, she choked out, “But why…?”
“Well?” he asked, his expression unreadable.
She gazed down at the sauce, then back at Ueda Yoshi and the promise of pizza… and maybe something else. Don’t make it more complicated than it has to be. Well geez, hadn’t he done the same thing?
Reiko made a snap decision. She darted back into her apartment and remerged a few seconds later, keys in hand. “Don’t try and pay for me. It’s not a date.”
The corners of Yoshi’s mouth twitched. “Absolutely not a date,” he agreed. “Wouldn’t want it to be.”
“Neither would I. You look like trouble.” And yet she was here, entering the elevator with him, the sudden butterflies in her stomach having nothing to do with nervousness and everything to do with their close proximity.
His hand brushed against hers. “I think you might like trouble,” he said quietly, amused.
daisuke x reiko AU for { LIP } AUgust by chemistrythings
NOTE: We love this Jar AU so much that we all wrote one! Ayako’s up first with Daisuke’s version! xox M
Neighbors who only meet because I cannot get this stupid jar open, can you help? AU
So once upon a time there lived a pretty girl (who wore Kumachi pajamas) across the hall from a shy (but sweet) boy. They never spoke to each other, but coincidentally, came home at the same time almost every day. So they’d nod, maybe smile tiredly, and then go to their separate apartments.
One day the shy (but sweet) boy received a package from his mother. In it was a jar of homemade strawberry jam, one of his favorites. His mother picked the strawberries from their garden and it was the first sign of summer in the Himura household.
The shy (but sweet) boy tried opening the jar almost immediately. It refused to budge. He tried wrapping a towel on his hand and then twisting. Nothing. He begged. The jar, an inanimate object in a story with no magic, refused to open.
The boy then remembered his neighbor, who sometimes stepped out in Kumachi pajamas, and decided to ask her for her help.
She opened the door--in casual clothing--and without any hesitation, said, “Tell me that’s not strawberry jam.”
The boy froze. Maybe she was allergic and would fall into a hundred year sleep?
“Is it homemade?” the girl asked, already reaching for it. “Back home, one of my neighbors would always bring some by in the summer. Sharing with my sister was the worst.”
The boy said, “It’s homemade.”
She took the jar, opened it with an easy grace, and handed it back. The rim of the jar was sticky pink, obviously contributing to the reason he couldn’t open it. He took it back with a grateful smile.
“Thank you.” He offered it again. “Would you like some?”
The boy learned that the girl’s name was Reiko, and she in turn learned the boy’s name was Daisuke. They ate the entire jar of strawberry jam together, sitting on her couch--decorated with sweaters and manga books--while talking about their childhood summers. Reiko teased him constantly, but always with a warmth that took the sting out of her words. He, in turn, made her lunch and brought her groceries, because she never did.
No one fell into a hundred year sleep and there was no magic, but Daisuke still thought it was a kind of fairy tale.
{ LOVE IN PRINT } Masaru x Reiko AU for LIP AUgust
NOTE: Hi, welcome to Laundromat Hell. There are vending machines right around the corner. xox M
‘Masaru and Reiko meet at the laundromat’ AU
It’s 1am and the laundromat is deserted, save for one other wakeful soul who lounges against a row of dryers with a stack of paperwork and a pencil that he twirls in his fingers. Reiko lugs her overflowing basket to the nearest washer, yawning. The man looks up but says nothing.
That is, until Reiko makes the mistake of trying to shovel everything in at once, whites and lights and darks and delicates all jumbled together. The stranger is at her side in an instant, firmly removing a bundle of sweaters from her grasp.
Startled, and admittedly a bit indignant, Reiko tilts her chin up to meet the man’s gaze. A mistake — his eyes are a shade of green she won’t soon forget.
person A who sits in the back of every staff meeting and makes snarky comments under their breath about everyone the whole time and person B who arrived late and sat next to them and can barely hold in their laughter
Reiko dropped into the only other available seat in the room, right next to a scowling man she recognized as Ueda from Sales. Clutching her coffee cup, she eyed him askance and thought, privately, that she’d never seen someone look so scandalized over a pie chart in her life.
“What the...?” the man sputtered under his breath. “Why would...? Excuse me???”
The slide changed. A succession of figures flashed onto the screen.
“Of course,” muttered Ueda. “Cause we need another special edition of that manga like I need a concussion and two black eyes. Jesus.”
His outrage forced Reiko to put her coffee down before she choked on it. Unfortunately, he noticed her barely stifled laughter, tearing his gaze away from the offending presentation to glance in her direction.
“Sorry,” Reiko mouthed, still trying not to laugh.
Ueda tossed his pen on the table, leaning back in his chair until it’s at a rather dangerous angle to the floor. “Hey, who told you to sit there? Do I look like I want to enjoy myself at this meeting? Did I ask for trouble?”
“I... what...?”
“Move. Unless you want to sit there tomorrow too.”
Indignant, Reiko returned his glare. “Fine!” she exclaimed, effectively interrupting the presenter.
“Fine! I don’t even care! Sit next to me at every meeting!”
"Fine! I will!”
“Fine! Whatever!”
And then they were politely asked to leave the room.
daisuke x reiko AU for { LIP } AUgust by fleamonkey
Note: My first attempt at writing the precious Daisy! I hope people enjoy it and a huge THANK YOU to the lovely queen Mariko for letting me be a part of AUgust!
“I rented the apartment above your flower shop and in the last two months you’ve gotten a new flower I’m allergic to so I keep buying bouquets until I can figure out which kind it is” AU
Like clockwork, he stumbled into the flower shop ten minutes before closing, apologies flying out of his mouth. “Sorry, sorry! I’m sorry—you’re still open, right? Can I quickly—?”
Reiko looked up from the latest issue of Duchess and laughed. The sight in front of her was truly one to behold. Still dressed in work clothes with his hair sticking up, Daisuke gestured helplessly to the wide array of flowers filling the shop. Even without him finishing the sentence, she knew what he was referring to. “No, you’re good on time. Go ahead and take a look around.”
“Thanks, Reiko!”
Ever since Himura Daisuke moved into the apartment above the store four months ago, Reiko had gotten used to seeing his face at the beginning and end of each day. She wasn’t complaining; Daisuke was friendly and much nicer than the previous tenant. He also made the perfect cup of coffee and for Reiko, that was enough for her to enjoy his company.
Something about Daisuke confused her, though. Without fail, he bought a bouquet of flowers every evening. They were never the same kind of flowers, and Reiko wondered if he kept a list somewhere. Red roses, bought. Daisies, bought. More than that, she wondered who they were for. Girlfriend? Mother? Heaven forbid, wife?
Idly flipping through the magazine, Reiko looked up as Daisuke trotted into view holding a gardenia blossom. “Could I get a bouquet of these? Don’t worry about the fancy wrapping; they’re going in a vase on my dining table anyway.”
“A vase on your dining table?” Not a girlfriend’s? The thought cheered her.
He grinned. “I love flowers. They brighten up a room, don’t you think?”
“Is that why you buy some every day?” After years of working at the store, bouquet making was quick and efficient for Reiko. Within minutes, his was ready—on the plain side, so not her best work, but since Daisuke himself said it was fine she didn’t worry about it.
As she rang up the sale, Daisuke fidgeted in place. “Actually… I love flowers, I really do, but…” he winced. “It might not be why I buy them all the time.”
That was an unexpected confession. Reiko froze and looked at him questioningly.
Under her gaze, Daisuke balked and wrung his hands together. “I’m allergic,” he blurted out.
“Allergic?” she repeated, eyebrows drawing together.
“To a flower. I don’t know which one so that’s why I’ve been buying so many.” Seeing the look on Reiko’s face, he hurried to add, “It’s not a big deal. I’m okay; I take a lot of allergy medicine when I’m at home. I just wanted to figure out what flower it was...”
“And politely ask us to stop stocking it?”
“Err,” he scratched his head. “I actually didn’t think that far ahead.”
Reiko felt terrible. Allergies were enough of a pain to deal with without having to endure the discomfort at home too. “When did this start?” she asked.
“Maybe two months ago? Around that time.”
She racked her brain. Two months ago… that was when they started stocking black dahlias and goldenrod. The former Daisuke had already bought once, which meant it wasn’t the one he was allergic too. “Goldenrod,” she said finally. “It’s probably goldenrod.” Reiko retrieved some and held it out to him. “Let me know if it’s the one and we can get rid of it; it’s not a big seller.”
He took the flower from her, troubled. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m telling you that what we’re going to do.” Reiko smiled and shook her head. “Honestly, what kind of a person would I be if I made you suffer like that?”
“A mean one—rhetorical question, right. Got it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to.”
“I’m sure.” A thought struck her suddenly, filling her with unease. “I guess now that you have an idea of flower it might be, you won’t be stopping by so often.”
As if he sensed her dip in mood, Daisuke gave her a wide grin. “Hey, you can’t get rid of me that easily! We’re friends. It’s in the fine print, sorry.”
Friends. That was a start. Reiko laughed. “I’m okay with that.” Her eyes fell on the bouquet of gardenias. “Oh, your flowers!” She handed the bouquet to Daisuke, who looked a little puzzled as he took them, the goldenrod still clutched in his other hand.
“You know, flowers can mean a lot of different things,” Reiko began. “Gardenias specifically symbolize sweetness and purity. They indicate a secret love too.” She reached out to touch one of the blossoms. “They tell the person receiving them that ‘you are lovely.’”
Daisuke stared at the bouquet for a long minute before holding it out to Reiko with a tentative smile on his face.
“What…?”
“You are lovely,” he echoed. “And I can’t think of a better use for these flowers than to give them to you.”
Reiko’s face heated up as she accepted the bouquet of gardenias. ”These are my flowers to begin with,” she pointed out, burying her face in it in an attempt to hide her blush. “But… thank you.”
Daisuke’s face was also pink, but there was warmth in his expression. He reminded Reiko of a daisy. No, a sunflower. He was a sunflower
