This is for the Art in a Form Challenge, created because the Fan Words section has disappeared. This is a terrible thing because theO has so many wonderful writers, not just creators of visual art. Art can also be in words. Be prepared, for my OC Zaria (formerly Zadaia) has a dirty mind and there’s implied KisaIta.
XXX
The meadow seemed to surround Kisame Hoshigaki in its quiet beauty the minute he took a wrong turn off the beaten path and stumbled upon it. The afternoon sun sent its rays through the trees that dotted the edges of the meadow creating a border of dappled leaves. The missing nin put away Samehada and watched as a slight breeze danced across the flowers. The various blossoms bent in submission to their dance partner and sprang back, swaying back and forth in a graceful waltz.
A feeling of peace washed over him as he slowly side stepped over to the edge of the meadow, quickly looking around to see if anyone was watching. He slid closer and closer, alternating his speed from tentative and slow to fast and confident, until he made a final break for it and entered the field of flowers.
Finding a path made out of tamped down grass Kisame slowly walked through the field taking in the sights, sounds, and scents. He had never known that there was a place such as this near the Akatsuki hideout. After all, they lived in a cave and this, well; this was a green meadow bursting with lush flora. The absurdity of it almost made him laugh out loud.
He saw a girl standing in the middle of the meadow, her back to him. She had bent down on her knees to pick up a flower. As Kisame got closer, he saw that she wore a black kimono with a red sash and red roses; her straight midnight black hair was shot through with snow white streaks and flowed to the side as the wind picked it up with gentle hands.
Kisame’s mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.
The girl stood up and slowly turned around, as if she knew he was behind her and wanted to lengthen the suspense. He was met with a face of milk white skin and hypnotizing golden eyes that caught the light of the sun and seemed to glow. Kisame knew for a fact, however, that her eyes were able to glow, but not because the sun shone on them.
“Hello Kisame,” the girl who looked nineteen years old grinned, showing off her glinting fangs.
He knew only one person who had this unearthly beautiful appearance. “Hello Zaria-san.”
Zaria Kioenshi looked at him with interest, fingering the delicate flower she held in her hand. “What are you doing here; giving in to your inner girl?” she smiled at the joke. Kisame of the Akatsuki was quite possibly the last person you would find in a field of flowers.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he decided to ignore the joke. “I thought vampires couldn’t go in sunlight.”
“I’m able to go in sunlight and not get burned. Although between you and me,” a smile slowly spread over her face, “I prefer the night.”
Kisame shivered. It was incredible how dirty she made that innocent comment sound.
She looked down at the flower. “I came here because many of the flowers here,” she made a sweeping gesture that included all of the meadow, “have meanings in Hanakotoba.”
The Scourge of the Mist translated that in his head. “…Flower language?” the tone was clearly perplexed. He had never heard of it in his life.
“Yes,” her eyes lit up, “it’s an old Japanese art that’s become forgotten in recent times. In my village it was known to many more people than today.” It was clear that Zaria liked the art very much.
The vampire smiled at the meadow surrounding her and breathed in the many aromas. She may be a creature of the night, but this was her domain. “Allow me to teach you some of the meanings in this lost art.”
*Amuburoshiā*
Zaria leaned to the side of the dirt path and picked off a top part of a pretty light green plant stretching its bodies to the sky, fringed by feathered leaves that hid the small whitish-green flowers. They were the celebrities hiding behind the light green velvet curtain.
“This is called Ambrosia,” she extended the plant for Kisame to see. “Its meaning is ‘pious’,” a grin spread over her face, “something I’m not.”
Her eyes sent scarlet heat waves that wrapped around him in flame colored silk. Each ribbon wrapped around him and invaded his mind with impure feelings, filling his body with warm liquid. “Are you coming onto me?” he said with a grin of his own.
Zaria flung out her arms, the Ambrosia plant quavering in place, “I am a vampire,” she said simply, “The world is my feast.”
*Burūberu*
The common Bluebell had blue fairy hats for flowers, the tips curled up impishly. They would lean over one another on the curved stem, lined up in small bunches on the green hat shelves. True, they were very pretty, but they were a bit odd-looking to the missing nin.
The vampire picked one plant and smelled it slowly, eyes lighting up with a light. “The Bluebell’s meaning is ‘grateful’.” She lowered the flower from her nose and smiled off into the distance.
“Zaria-san?” Kisame questioned, seeing the faraway emotion playing out across her face.
“I’m grateful to one person—Adriano, the vampire who saved me all those years ago.” She fingered one fairy hat on the shelf, “Half of my village was wiped out because of the epidemic and my entire family was part of that half. I contracted the disease and I was close, so close to dying,” her eyes misted over, “it was like my life was over. But I suddenly felt a pain on my neck and was out cold. When I came to,” she looked down at the Bluebell, “Adriano was smiling at me. He bit my neck and I turned into a vampire; he saved my life.”
Choosing to remain silent the black eyed man looked at Zaria as if seeing her in a new light. He had never seen the vampire like this.
“He took my under his wing, taught me how to control my vampire urges, my hunger,” she bared her fangs, “which were pretty wild back when I was a newborn.” She laughed, “I’m better now, though I get unrestrained bloodlust once a month, which I don’t mind at all.” A mere look from her was enough to make him think dirty thoughts. “Itachi knows what I mean.”
He allowed himself a half smile; Zaria was back to her usual self. “Wait,” he said, “What about Itachi-san?”
She chuckled, “You still call him ‘Itachi-san?’”
*Kakutasu*
“My favorite flower isn’t here,” the golden eyed girl stated. “That’s sad, because I really wanted to show it to you.”
“What’s your favorite flower?” Kisame asked interested. He was learning something he had never known existed. Once you get past the apparent girly aspect of Hanakotoba, it was actually interesting.
“The Cactus flower, its meaning is ‘lust’,” she glanced at him and her eyes attained the heated glow that always appeared when naughty things were afoot. It was the same glow from before, and the same glow that made heat spread all over his body now.
“It also describes you and Itachi perfectly.”
*Tsubaki*
“The yellow Camellia symbolizes ‘longing’, and the white Camellia means ‘waiting’. One of these holds true for you and a certain shinobi who will go nameless.” Holding the two flowers next to each other they formed a cream and lemon duo.
“How so?”
Zaria shook her head, “Nuh-uh-uh Kisame, you need to guess which one first.”
“Are you serious?” he asked exasperated.
“As serious as a vampire attack,” he swore he saw a laughing glint in her eyes.
Kisame rolled his eyes like a teenager and looked at the two flowers she held in her hand. The scalloped edges of the outer petals formed a bed for the inner cluster of petals to lay their tired heads on. He found himself drawn to the yellow Camellia, they of the light lemon-kissed petals and naturally beautifully arranged petals. The yellow one symbolized ‘longing’, right…?
Oh.
He understood.
“Is it the yellow Camellia?”
Zaria beamed like he was her star pupil.
*Yotsuba no kurōbā*
Zaria went down on her hands and knees and started searching fervently, her vampire senses keenly observing everything that was to be seen.
“What are you doing?” Kisame questioned.
“I’m looking for something.” Her hands fingered an object and grabbed it by the stem; she had found what she was looking for. “Yes!” with a shout of triumph she jumped up and brandished her find under Kisame’s nose.
The earthy and clover smells wafted up to greet his nose. “That’s not a flower,” he stated whilst looking blankly at the plant.
Holding the Four-leaf clover between her thumb and index finger she held it next to her head. “Thank you Captain Obvious.”
“You’re welcome Captain Sarcasm,” the sharky one smiled to himself.
Zaria looked at him quizzically and continued, “Just because a plant isn’t a flower doesn’t mean it’s not in Hanakotoba.” She waved the clover in his face. “Come on Kisame, what do Four-leaf clovers usually symbolize?”
Well that shouldn’t be too hard. Hidan had been bitching about ‘heathens’ (people who weren’t Jashinists) a week ago and had called the very same clover Zaria now held in her hand a ‘shitty good luck charm’. So if the context clue was correct…
“Does it mean ‘luck’?”
“Correct. In Hanakotoba, the exact meaning of the Four-leaf clover in is ‘lucky’. An example: you’re lucky to have Itachi as a partner (in more ways than one).”
Seriously, if Zaria kept mentioning Itachi he wasn’t sure if he would have to hide a blush at her (correct) implications or try slicing her with his Samehada, although now that he thought about it, he highly doubted he would be able to land a blow on a vampire who could hypnotize him in under five seconds.
*Suisen*
She held up a cheerful Daffodil, the protruding vase-like bright yellow flower looking like a frozen ray of sun. Taking one of Kisame’s hands she drew it towards her and placed the flower in his palm, closing his hand around it with her own gently persuading fingers. “For one thing, he shows you ‘respect’.”
*Tenjikubotan*
“And my friend, Itachi’s a good catch no?” The vampire’s eyes gleamed as she held up the next flower.
To Kisame, the large Dahlia looked like a living firework. A hazy dark yellow glow surrounded the white center as it shot out white tipped deep pink sparks while white tails spread outwards like rays. A faint light pink hue stained a number of the tips.
“You have ‘good taste’.”
*Rabendā*
The Lavender’s soothing scent washed over Zaria and Kisame like a waterfall of purple mist in a secluded grotto. The elegant lady in the purple gown stood tall in front of the falls, golden flower jewelry wrapped around her neck and arms, her perfumed hair calmly blowing in the wind. Kisame felt like he was walking in a field filled with heavenly purple foam; he had never felt this relaxed.
Simultaneously they both breathed deeply, the aromas filling their senses with harmony.
“I know you both will be ‘faithful’,” Zaria said with a serene smile.
Faithful…Kisame contentedly grinned, showing a flash of sharp teeth, as he looked at the small bundle of tranquility in the vampire’s milk white hands. Its meaning suited the flower so well.
*Suītopī*
Evening arrived and Kisame realized that he had to get back to the hideout. He had been gone all afternoon, and they were going to have a meeting that night. Damned if he admitted it, but the flower art Zaria was teaching him was intriguing. He found himself not wanting to leave the meadow of flowers.
“Zaria-san, I have to leave. The Akatsuki’s having a meeting and I have to be there.”
The vampire detected a twinge of regret in his voice. “What’s this?” she smirked, “Could it be that the Scourge of the Mist likes Hanakotoba?”
He shook his head like a rattle. “No, it’s just that I kind of like it here and the flower meanings are really interesting, and I don’t want—”
Zaria stepped directly in front of him, staring up into his eyes. He tried looking away but he couldn’t help it; those golden eyes entrapped him in their spell. “So you do like them,” she said with a knowing smile. She turned away before he could say anything and glided over to a separate patch of flowers and started picking them.
He watched her in the fading sunlight, the lights bounding off the colors of the flowers, creating a kaleidoscope field. Her streaks of white were marked with fleeting light blues, reds, and purples. She looked at the small bouquet, smiled, and wrapped something around the stems.
“For you,” she held his hand and wrapped his fingers around the bouquet like she had done with the Daffodil.
Startled that she had arrived back so quickly, he jerked his hand back and looked at the bouquet.
They were Sweet Peas, tied together with a light blue ribbon. Pink flowers stained with white nestled next to white flowers bled with blue and reds gushing white. Deep purple blooms mixed with pink were interspersed with lavender shades, salmon pink, crystal blue and creamy whites. In the center were a deep red and a brilliant indigo blue.
Kisame looked at the sweet bouquet and focused on the centerpieces. There was no doubt in his head that they symbolized something. “Thank you,” he was touched that someone had given him a gift.
“You’re welcome,” the vampire turned and started to walk down the winding dirt to the end of the field, the periwinkle blue sky above her head.
“Wait!”
The raven haired girl turned around, a few feet in front of him. “What?”
“What’s the meaning of the Sweet Peas?” the question came out before he had a chance to think.
Surprise flit across her face and then faded as a slow grin stretched across her face. She knew it; Kisame liked Hanakotoba after all. Lifting her hand in a regal motion she started waving.
“‘Goodbye’.”
XXX
The art that I used in this story, Hanakotoba, is the Japanese flower language. It sort of is a lost art because many young Japanese are unaware of it while on the opposite end they know of the European flower language. Here are the meanings I used in this story in case you didn’t get it the first time.
Amuburoshiā (Ambrosia) – pious
Burūberu (Bluebell) – grateful
Kakutasu (Cactus flower) – lust
Suisen (Daffodil) – respect
Tenjikubotan (Dahlia) – good taste
Rabendā (Lavender) – faithful
Suītopī (Sweet Pea) – goodbye
