By osmosis, just like one of Siegfried's plants, Yoshiki knows plenty about gardening. You can't get away from knowing about how things grow and the cycle of the seasons in Kubitachi, especially when your best friend is heir to a shiitake farm.
The smell of living things all plump and happy in the sunshine and moist dirt is almost, almost like home. The wet-but-hollow thud of zucchini on plastic, the brush of leaves on the back of his fingers, the roughness of the vine underneath his fingers, the lingering kiss of summer on the back of his neck.
He's good enough at pretending he can even let himself forget he's doing it.
"Then you just gotta sneak around to other neighbourhoods at night and drop it off on their doorsteps," he says, with a faint tinge of warmth, "The stuff you can't sell. It can be a real nuisance, huh?"
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The smell of living things all plump and happy in the sunshine and moist dirt is almost, almost like home. The wet-but-hollow thud of zucchini on plastic, the brush of leaves on the back of his fingers, the roughness of the vine underneath his fingers, the lingering kiss of summer on the back of his neck.
He's good enough at pretending he can even let himself forget he's doing it.
"Then you just gotta sneak around to other neighbourhoods at night and drop it off on their doorsteps," he says, with a faint tinge of warmth, "The stuff you can't sell. It can be a real nuisance, huh?"