White Lily on the Bridge

We left the petunias, continuing down the path. Thin and shallow rivers branched throughout the garden, originating from the large pond. There were stone slabs laid atop the rivers to act as a bridge. I stuck my hand out to assist her in crossing the bridge.

"Don't fall now. Would hate to ruin a cute outfit this early in the day."

"Eeh?"
She was caught off-guard, nearly stumbling her sandals on the stone's surface.

"Ah, I mean...well...not 'cute' as in... Well, it's cute, don't get me wrong, but... Y'know?"
I stuttered a storm.

She did grab my hand to cross, but we immediately broke contact once she was safe. We stood in silence. Facing away from her with a beetroot face, I flicked myself on the forehead.

As smooth as the moon's surface.

"Fufu," she giggled. "I think I understand what you mean."

"Really? Mind tellin' me, because I don't."

We continued strolling forward until we reached the peak of the garden – the pond. There was a small island in the middle, with another tea house in the center. The way to reach the island was by crossing one of two bridges. She led me to the center of the Kaitō-rō Bridge and we gazed at the arching roof made of wood and steel above us.

"This wood kind of scares me," I said. "I had a big breakfast, so I wonder if that's enough to sink us in. Heha."

Rossi-chan gently smacked me on my upper arm.
"Don't even joke about that right now. Like you said, my outfit's too cute and adorable and lovely to be soaking in pond water."

"I don't remember addin' two of those words there, the first one was a slip of the tongue. Anyways, do your best to not fall in, or else I'll feel obligated to jump in after you."

"Would you?"

"Depends on how funny it looks from up here."

"How rude. Fufu."

The railing of the bridge only reached to our knees, despite that, we stood at the edge and leaned over it to see our reflection in the water. She stepped away first, and I continued to stare at the pond in its entirety.

"The water on that side is covered in flower petals."
She pinched my hoodie's sleeve to drag me away, worrying that I'd fall in. I turned around and lifted my head to face her.
"I think they'll wade here––"

I abruptly halted my words upon looking at Rossi-chan. She walked up to me and overlooked the pond again. My eyes unknowingly lingered at her side profile as she tucked her ruby hair behind her ear – revealing her earrings. It was the capitulum of a flower I'd learn about later; the white lily, embedded onto titanium clips. They were handcrafted and made from hardened polymer clay; the white sculpted petals were refined in shape.

The summer wind waved her hair back, as if it was being brushed by a hidden angel. The glow of the revealing sun shifting towards its afternoon spot added more to the sparkling water that reflected onto her soft-looking skin.

Huh? What was I goin' to say? What was I doin'? Wh-Whatever it was, I completely lost all train of thought just by lookin' at her. I...I guess I'm still processin' how I'm actually with a friend doin' friend activities. I-I want to continue doin' this.

"...-kun? Verano-kun? Could you stop staring at me?" Rossi-chan asked, head tilted down and arms over her chest.

"What? O-Oh, sorry! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to––"

"I-It's okay..." she interjected. "Ahem. I asked if you'd like to continue forward?"

"U-Uh-huh. Yeah.."
As smooth as the mountains, idiot.
As a secret, I'll admit that there wasn't much to look at, but that wasn't a reason to not feel embarrassed.

Luckily, for me, the final teahouse ceremony distracted and cleared our minds of the awkwardness. I reflected on what I thought on the bridge – not saw – and solidified my determination with Rossi-chan's mission. After the ceremony, we walked back to the front of the Garden and left through the exit back to the main street.

The sun wasn't at the horizon just yet, but all those tea ceremonies did pass the time quite quickly. We agreed to return to the family mart and each pick up a quick dinner set; her treat again. We ate our food and talked a little at Kyoto Station, then boarded a train back to Fujinomori Station.

We agreed to return to Nishidate Park and talk about the stuff we learned at the Shosei-en Garden. The park was desolate again, which was better for us as we sat down at one of the few tables. She took out her calendar, a pocket-sized notebook, and a pen.

"July 3rd," she said. "That's where you'll find the petunias. You'll get the detailed history of what I told you at the garden. See if you can find some similarities between that and the butterfly weed."

"Yes ma'am," I responded, saluting like a soldier.

After a few minutes of reading, she tapped on the table to grab my attention.
"Did you use the positive thing when you wrote the initial poem for the butterfly weed? I wrote it down here."

"Uh, kind of. I pretty much used opposite meanings of what the flower already meant. Since it means leavin' people and bein' alone, I tried to do the opposite. 'Petals leave in the winter, but they will always return in the summer' is supposed to mean that though things go, they come back."

It would've been a hassle to continuously flip the notebook back and forth, so she stood up from her side of the table to sit next to me.
"So, here, you turned something negative into a positive thing with its antonym. I assume 'waiting every changed season, alone, but now the waiting is done together' is meant to signify the change from solitude."

"Right, but I didn't get to convey the message like I wanted to because I wrote it in a Karuta format, so I was only limited to those four lines. Karuta isn't really known outside Japan, so the final version can't be in that format or else it'd lose the popularity factor."

She leaned closer.
"What format would work?"

I had caught the smell of it all day, the aroma of her perfume. I was surprised that it lingered around her that long, but I wasn't complaining. Using the notebook we shared as an excuse, I leaned in closer to her.

"W-Well, there's no real format to popular poems, it really depends on what the readers think of it. Famous works are popular based on the reader's interpretation of the words. The clearer the message, the easier it is to understand and the faster it rises in popularity. The problem is, bein' too clear can be a bad thing."

"Because there'd be nothing to interpret, correct?"

"Exactly, there's a microscopic line between perfect and imperfect."
My tilted head nearly touched hers, but our shoulders were already touching. It didn't seem like either of us minded.
"B-But leave the poetry stuff to me, you don't have to worry about it. Focusin' on the positive popularities of flowers is your job. I-I know you'll do a good job with that."

She lightly placed her head on my shoulder once again. She shuffled around a small bit to find the most comfortable spot, then giggled once she had it.
"I wish my body was like yours. Did I tell you that I like your figure? I can easily sit on your broad shoulders. We'd be like, eight-feet-tall if I did that. Can I––"

"Please no," I interrupted. "I'd accidentally tilt too much and have you fall into a river or somethin'."

"How rude, but I don't blame you – I'd do that too. Fufu."

There was no further development in regards to Operation Sprechchor that day. Until the sun had fallen behind the mountains, we sat at the table without writing another word. I was silent, but she raised the octave of her voice to sing. She snapped the green bracelet and sang her flower song to me for the first time.

"One~ The wedding bells~, the funeral hails~, the symbol that heals, the symbol that steels the soul. The color~ of angel wings~, the purity of snow~, the white lily~ is the river's flow. Innocence and rebirth, January 1st holds it's worth~!" 

I could only remain seated and listen. Her voice was beautiful, which was everything but a surprise. It sounded like she had the power to make the sun emerge from the nimbuses and bring the flowers to life. She continued singing until she reached the end of flower thirty-seven: Wisterias.

After cleaning up and exchanging farewells, I began walking to my apartment. She didn't know, but the journey was an hour long; I couldn't ask for more train fare. That was okay, I was happily replaying the entire day in my head, not skipping a second.

When I reached my apartment door, she had the amazing timing to send a message:

Good work today! Thanks so much for an unforgettable first day of summer, hopefully we can rise from here! Let's hang out very soon and talk more about flowers and poems! Email you tomorrow!