Blossom Among Flowers: Blossom Among Flowers, #1

By Jay E. Tria

A taste of Japanese manga: Being invisible can't be that hard, can it?

High school student Hikaru Saito is in trouble. She is failing English because she'd much rather bury her nose in the latest manga than study pronouns and prepositions. To keep her from getting kicked out of school, she is assigned a tutor in the form of the most popular boy in school: golden-haired genius Takeshi Hinata. 

You'd think Takeshi would be Hikaru's surefire way to academic success, but her stubbornness, lack of concentration, and general disinterest in things other than her precious manga frustrate Takeshi to no end. To make matters worse, a young, pretty boy teacher is determined to rescue Hikaru every chance he gets, riling Takeshi up even more—and confusing the hell out of Hikaru. 

But as they spend more time together and get to know each other beyond their high school reputations, Hikaru and Takeshi enter a situation neither of them expected to find themselves in—one that factors in stolen kisses, controlling parents, a princess-in-hiding, and the deepest yearnings of a teenage heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jay E. Tria
• Release date: Jul 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516389339

Book preview

Copyright

Blossom Among Flowers

Jay E. Tria

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any semblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2015, 2020 by Jay E. Tria

First edition published 2015. Second edition published 2020.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contact the author: www.jayetria.com, [e-mail]

Cover design by Tania Arpa.

Books by Jay

Playlist Series: Songs of Our Breakup | Songs to Get Over You | Songs to Make You Stay | That Thing Called Closure | Songs You Come Back To | Songs To Your Beat

Anthologies: Promdi Heart: Hometown Love Stories | Summer Crush | Second Wave Summer

RomanceClass Flair: You Out of Nowhere

Young Adult/Urban Fantasy: Majesty

To Romina, my Hikaru.

Hobby

Hikaru Saito heaved the glass door of the bookstore open, cheeks puffing with the effort, sounding the wind chimes. The cold morning frost tumbled inside with her.

Good morning! Eriko, the shop girl, called from the counter.

Good morning! Hikaru called back. She jogged in place and wagged her arms in circles as if swatting away the cold.

She was the first customer today, as she was every Saturday. Miss Okari, the bookstore owner, knew all of her avid customers by literary preference, by the float of their steps, and by their names, in that precise order. To her, Hikaru was romance and samurai manga; heavy, uneven stomps.

Heeee-ka-ru, Miss Okari sang, gliding through her silkscreen blinds in her auburn kimono. You’re late today.

Miss Okari. Hikaru bowed her hello. I was jogging.

Oh-hoh, really now, Miss Okari chimed in her hummingbird voice. Eriko already wrapped it for you. Her thin lips slid into a knowing smile before she turned and flitted back to her office.

Hikaru waited, fidgeting, until Miss Okari disappeared behind the patterned blinds. When she was sure the bookstore owner was gone, she zipped to the counter.

You know we have glass doors, don’t you? Eriko leaned toward her as Hikaru stood tapping her fingers against the wood panel.

I was jogging, Hikaru repeated, grinning. Her messy hair should be enough evidence.

In a circle in front of our store? Since seven thirty in the morning?

Hikaru hopped on her toes. It’s good for the heart.

Oh yes. A seventeen-year-old girl like you really needs extra cardio. Eriko nodded, a smile lurking at the corner of her lips. That’s a cute jogging suit by the way.

Hikaru pinched her nose, looking down at her fluffy pink hoodie and matching jogging pants, the hem showing two inches of white socks. It was the only athletic garment she owned and she’d had it since seventh grade. But she had to make do since her mother believed she was training for Physical Education class; the only valid reason to be out of the house by sunrise on a Saturday morning.

Won’t Mrs. Saito wonder why you haven’t made the track team yet? Eriko read her mind.

I told her I have a stiffness in my knee… Hikaru muttered, remembering the awkward conversation.

Behind them the wind chimes sang again, and Miss Okari emerged from her office to greet the second customer of the day. Eriko gave Hikaru one last stony glare, then gave in and pulled out the package.

Thank you! Hikaru pressed the Boys Over Flowers issue between her palms. My 214th…

214. Eriko whistled, chin in her hand as she watched Hikaru caress the small rectangle with unbecoming love. That’s a lot of manga.

Hikaru looked up and grinned. Eriko Tsukui had been working the Saturday and some afternoon shifts at Miss Okari’s bookstore for the last two months. With her thick waves of black hair, porcelain face, and seat in the prestigious Waseda University, she couldn’t be more out of place in this mecca of comic book geeks.

Comic book enthusiasts, Hikaru corrected her thoughts.

But no one else could draw in more male customers of all ages and manage the counter with intelligent precision like Eriko did. Miss Okari was quick to point this out.

Hikaru had been trying to explain her hobby to Eriko since their first meeting at the counter: the vivid images from the drawings, that satisfying crunch of the binding as you cracked a manga open for the first time, the distinct tree-and-ink smell on the pages…

It may be embarrassing to some (her brother), wasteful to others (her mother), and unfathomable to the rest (her father), but to Eriko, Hikaru’s hobby was fascinating, and at that moment she announced that they were going to be great friends.

Hikaru just nodded then, thinking Eriko was her senior and was too tall and beautiful to be friends with a pale shrimp like her.

I can’t wait to read it, Hikaru murmured, poking a finger through the wrapping.

Don’t you have exams on Monday? Eriko asked as she rang up the purchase.

I’m studying for that, too.

Eriko’s perfect eyebrow arched up, recognizing the promise as an afterthought.

I’ll just look at The Shelf on my way out, Hikaru mumbled, turning away before she received another scolding.

She wove through the empty aisles, inhaling the crisp scent of paper and spicy incense. Miss Okari’s store was an intricate map of many shelves and coffee tables that carried more books than they were allowed. Always, like a ritual, Hikaru’s last stop was the largest shelf that occupied the entire back wall of the shop. It spanned three meters across and stood twelve layers of comic books from floor to ceiling. It was The Shelf.

Hikaru planted herself in front of it now, her eyes skimming the titles she owned in her miniature version at home and memorizing the ones she did not yet have. So little time…

Hmm.

Hikaru turned at the low hum. A golden-haired head inclined towards her, dark hazel eyes probing her surprised expression.

Takeshi Hinata was standing behind her. Hello, he said.

Hello, Hikaru responded, her eyes wide.

He kept looking at her until she had to blink once, a flutter more times. She had always been terrible with eye contact games. When the silence and the staring started to feel awkward, she turned towards the exit.

I’m going now, she muttered, the words coming out like a question.

Takeshi nodded. Okay.

Hikaru stumbled on the umbrella rack on her way out. Looking back, she caught Takeshi staring at her with a new crease on his forehead. Soon, he turned away, and then Hikaru was out on the street, the chimes whistling, the morning frost reprimanding her for forgetting her coat.

***

Takeshi Hinata is in Miss Okari’s bookstore. Hikaru mumbled to herself as she turned the last corner to their house.  But why?

Takeshi was not an easy boy to miss at school, not when the geniuses had been separated from the geeks and were now way up on the social ladder. Takeshi came with a gaggle of admiring girls and a procession of fawning teachers in his wake. Maybe it helped that he had a socialite for a mother and a business mogul for a father, and that his golden-haired head floated like a halo a few inches above every other boy in school. His heart-shaped face framed a pair of dark probing eyes that seemed able to read minds.

Hikaru shivered when a sudden gust of wind hit her face. Some people were so smart they had crossed over to the Weird Side.

I’d have thought he would be home solving a Rubix pentagon or something.

Her shoes shuffled on the pavement, her back arched against the cold. An old sedan zoomed past her as she took a turn, the winter air mingling with the scent of frying eggs.

At least his fans had not found him in the bookstore yet. The place would be a tangle of giggles and limbs between shelves.

HI-KA-RU.

Gah!

Shintaro sat on top of the low wall that snaked around their house, squinting at her, his mouth in a stern line. Where were you?

Jogging, she said swiftly.

She pushed past her twin brother and slid through the creaky red gate. Their house stood welcoming, a narrow two-story brick and wood building fronted by a wooden porch and sheets of blue-green grass on a small lawn, the grass now enveloped by wisps of morning frost.

Shintaro jumped off the wall and sidled in after her. They were identical from the tops of their jet-black hair to the points of their chins that they could hardly be called fraternal. Shintaro’s nose was sharper though, and he was at least four inches taller; a fact he liked to remind Hikaru often by bowing over her, which he did now.

You could’ve gotten to Sapporo and back in that long a run.

I could very well have.

I see that manga. I’m not blind.

Hikaru heard the eye roll in her twin’s voice, remembering only now that her baggy pink sweater was supposed to serve as a kangaroo pocket.

This is Takeshi Hinata’s fault, she muttered under her breath.

Shintaro opened his mouth for another lazy retort, but the door opened with a thud and there their mother loomed, a feat that was easy for her to do as she was taller than them both.

Yumi Saito’s nostrils flared like a bull’s. Hikaru shrank.

"It’s only one manga now, Mama." Shintaro shuffled past his mother through the door. But as we all know, the Comic Book Ban is in place until graduation.

"It’s only one manga now, Mama." Shintaro shuffled past his mother through the door. But as we all know, the Comic Book Ban is in place until graduation.

Hikaru glared at her twin’s retreating back. If anyone could please take her twin away and leave him in the mountains, Hikaru would be just grateful.

***

Hikaru’s door slid open with a whisper of a crack then shut again. A bowl of noodles sat on the floor beside it, a pair of chopsticks perched on top. She glared at her evening’s sustenance.

This is cruel and unusual punishment.

Shintaro shrugged, sprawled on her bed. The words Comic Book Ban were pretty much self-explanatory.

How about the words sibling loyalty?

It’s every twin for him-slash-herself come exams week, Shintaro lectured, returning to Beck no. 2, feet crossed in the air.

Don’t break the binding! Hikaru cried. After a last warning look at her twin, she crawled over to her dinner. She slid the bowl into her lap, heaving a sigh with her blessing of the meal.

Such was her mother’s rage that Hikaru was confined in her room for the entire weekend until she understood the rational purpose behind keeping away from her distractions at a crucial time in her academic career.

Hikaru couldn’t help making air quotation marks as she played the lecture back in her head. It’s a hobby, Mother. She slurped the noodles down and returned the bowl to the floor.

She turned to glare at her brother. Why are you still here?

I’m checking your progress, Shintaro mumbled from her bed. You don’t look any nearer to that A to me.

You have your own exam to worry about, little brother.

I don’t cram until the last minute, Shintaro scoffed. And three minutes don’t count. It’s not my fault your giant head peeked out first.

Do you think if you grovel Principal Harada will let you move up to 3-A before graduation?

Hikaru knew the flying pillow was coming then, so she ducked when Shintaro made the throw.

Shut up, he growled.

Hikaru grinned, stumbling back to her desk where her offensive English textbook lay. Shintaro was in class 3-B, a class higher than her mediocre 3-C. It was the way things had always been with them since test scores gained more weight than coloring within the lines. She knew though that her brother was a closet grade-conscious nerd and ached to be elevated to the prestigious crème de la crème that was class 3-A.

When she was being mean, she would think he was doing it so he could be best friends with Takeshi Hinata, but she knew that her twin was very much against idolatry.

Shintaro caught the faraway look in her eyes. Are you failing yet?

No.

She gripped her pencil with her left hand, channeling her concentration on the question on the page: The girl took _____ (her red bag) with her to the store. She stared at the question, willing the correct pronoun to come while fighting the part of her head that rallied against learning a different language.

Pencil tight in her hand, she started filling the blank.

"The answer’s not you."

Hikaru jumped at Shintaro’s voice in her ear.

"It’s not he either. He sat on her desk in front of her. And to think pronouns are the easiest."

Go annoy the neighbor’s cat.

This will be the fourth time, if ever. Shintaro’s eyebrow rose. His long legs reached the floor from where he sat on the high desk.

Hikaru pursed her lips. Excuse me. Third time.

You failed twice in elementary, once in high school. Shintaro held out his fingers as he went through the list. Math exam in freshman year. You wrote all your solutions but forgot to put in the final answers.

Hikaru’s face crumpled at the memory. I used up a lot of ink that day.

Shintaro nodded, a stern frown on his face. I’m just saying, though I very much enjoy annoying you, it will be sad to graduate alone.

Vivid images of her parents weeping as Shintaro trudged on the stage in his graduation cap while Hikaru slumped in one of the seats among the crowd came to mind.

Good thing she was never one to believe in premonitions.

You go ahead and worry about something else, little brother, she huffed, scribbling a hasty answer on the page.

Shintaro narrowed his eyes at her. Three minutes don’t count, evil twin. It’s already eight o’clock on a Sunday, and it’s the death of your academic hopes, not mine.

***

At eleven fifty-six that Sunday, Hikaru sat in her chair, English book open beside her fresh copy of Boys Over Flowers no. 19. She sat still, staring at her thin fingers on the table, forcing her concentration on her textbook.

The author was prattling on about subject-verb agreement. But after reading it over for the third time, the words’ meaning still escaped her sieve-like brain. It seemed more efficient to just give up now.

Hikaru dropped her chin on the hard edge of the table, probably bruising herself a magnificent purple. Her right hand reached for the manga on its own accord.

The death of your academic hopes.

Shintaro’s ominous words echoed in the empty hallowed halls of her sleepy mind. How she loathed these quaint twin things.

She sat up and pulled the textbook toward her. Her left hand gripped the pencil and began underlining key words. Halfway down, her hand drove the pencil through the page, creating a coin-sized hole.

Grunting, her hand moved to the manga again. One chapter.

And that was how the manga won over the English exam by a knockout round.

Truth

Takeshi held the pencil by the base of his thumb. He listened to the clock tick for four seconds, then wrote down his name. His eyes scanned the pages then returned to the top, his pencil moving now.

___ (The bus) arrived at the station.

He scribbled the answer and read through the next question, and the next, following this pattern until the first page of the exam was completely and correctly filled in.

___ (father) took his computer to work. Mr. Okawa broke ____ (vase). Mother thought ____ (mother) lost her purse.

His mind answered faster than his hand did, and that was often infuriating. But today he didn’t mind as he was occupied with other thoughts.

Principal Harada had been waiting by his locker this morning. The sight wasn’t really that surprising. As he walked toward the principal, Takeshi nursed a faint hope that he would be told to go somewhere with a ski resort for whatever contest he had to win now. Soon, though, he reached the principal and had to feign politeness.

Takeshi Hinata! The principal had patted his arm in that comfortable way teachers did to students they liked.

Principal Harada. Takeshi issued him a curt nod.

The principal was a short stocky man with a thinning crown of hair, a plastered-on smile, and a voice one usually heard from second-hand car salesmen. In their three years together, he had utilized Takeshi’s genius as fully as only a stereotypical head educator like him could.

It seemed logical enough: principals needed good students to bring honor, prestige, and sponsors to the school, in the same manner that boys clung to his status and girls to his popularity. His mother would tell him this was how the world made sense. Takeshi understood what she meant, but he did not think it was necessary to agree.

He scolded himself for his internal babbling. Even his in-head dialogues diverted.

He finished the fill-in-the-blanks portion of the exam. Takeshi turned the page, grunting under his breath because the English teacher, Miss Matsuda, did not even try to challenge him. His mind returned to Principal Harada.

Harvard Law is having its first international convention in January, the principal had said, barely containing his excitement. I took the liberty of submitting your name weeks before. The dean sent your acceptance letter this morning.

Takeshi had taken the thick envelope extended to him, thinking: This is new.

You will be excused from your classes for that period, of course, said the principal. I will personally catch you up on the lessons you will miss.

That won’t be necessary. Takeshi had meant to sound matter-of-fact, but the principal’s smile had moved to a tense line. Thank you, Principal Harada, he added after a late second.

I know of your aspirations to be a lawyer, the principal had gone on, the grin back on his face. Maybe Harvard Law is for you.

Takeshi finished his exam with a final dot. He pressed the sheets together and rose from his chair. He barely made a sound, but his seatmates’ heads moved to look at the early bird. When they saw it was only him as usual, they returned their scrunched brows to their papers. Yuta Tanaka glared at Takeshi as he passed.

Takeshi gave Yuta a return smirk as he deposited his exam on the teacher’s desk and left the room. Only fifteen minutes had passed since the bell.

I imagine your parents will be even prouder of you with this new honor, Principal Harada had said as they parted.

He was walking alone in the cold deserted halls, but Takeshi’s lips moved to a smile. His mother would like to hear about this, his father even more so.

***

No. No. Nononononononono.

There were many things in life that were too awful to be true. Like the mean people and terrorist acts. Or idols that still danced to pop beats in their forties. Takuya Kimura excluded, of course.

Like the giant red F written on the sheet of paper on the desk, the name Hikaru Saito in an untidy scrawl next to it.

Nononononono… Maybe if Hikaru repeated the word enough times, it would make the truth go away.

Miss Saito?

Hikaru peeked out from the shelter of her thin, folded arms. Her English teacher Miss Matsuda crouched low beside her, her friend Hina Isayama on her other side mimicking the pose.

Teacher. Hikaru sniffed once then forced a wan smile. Hina. Aren’t you going to miss your bus? It’s getting late.

I couldn’t leave you like this, could I? Hina’s usually chipper voice was low, her round cheeks sagging with concern.

Miss Saito. Miss Matsuda tried again. Your grade…

An F! Hikaru exclaimed, her voice bright and shrill. "You wrote it down here next to my name. A very big