this is inspired by the manga Flowernoid no Shuufukushi and Satsuki no Sora.
both are created by the same mangaka, and the background is basically alike, but they're different.
i really like the concept of the Flowernoids and Maka, so i was like:
"I want to make a fanfic about this."
...and...well, here it is.
it's the actual Tsuna this time!
...not used to the canon Tsuna, though...
SO I MAKE HIM TYL AND GIVE HIM NEW PERSONALITY
lots of love, Two-Faced Procrastinator.
Everything about him blazed with brilliance.
Like the vivid orange that so resembled the fiery sunset.
His eyes, his trademark, the fire that obeyed him without defiance.
The hatred revenge he carried out with fists clenched as if in a prayer.
He was abandoned.
How many times did this make?
It didn't matter.
He would just have to wait for someone to pick him up.
And if that didn't happen...
Well, then that would mean that he would wilt to death, that's all.
He wasn't a beginner to these types of messes. It happened with every master that picked him up. They all threw him away, however, when they realized that he wasn't the kind of doll used for sexual pleasure.
Honestly, was sex the only thing humans saw Flowernoids useful for? He scoffed softly, staring absentmindedly at the dreary gray sky. It was going to rain soon, he noted dully. Maybe he wasn't going to die so quickly after all.
But instead of being grateful, bitterness gathered in his heart and burned his throat like bile. He wished he would just break down already. He was so tired. Tired, of being unappreciated and treated as if he were no good.
It made him feel both resentful and sorrowful that humans no longer pined for love. All they wanted were the empty pleasures that did nothing to heal and warm their hearts. It made him wonder why humans were so lazy. If they just waited patiently and worked for it, they would be so much happier than their current soulless states.
To him, they were the dolls. Greedy, desperate dolls that took and took and took, but never gave. Only time would tell when the world would fall into complete discord.
He lowered his head, directing his distinct orange eyes to gaze blankly at the trademark flower tattooed on the back of his left hand. It was a vague stencil of a fire lily, as brightly colored as his irides.
He slowly flipped his hand, and studied the barcode on the underside of his wrist. He'd seen it many times, and knew what it would translate to when it was scanned. Often, he was prized just by the Florist that arranged him, and the Flower Shop that sold his species.
Nobody really saw him for who he was. All they saw was a priceless artifact, that and nothing more. They didn't ask what kind of affection he required, they forgot to let him bathe in moonlight when night fell, they disregarded his need for water constantly.
He was told how beautiful he was by almost everyone that saw him. He knew that most of them said it out of jealously, but it wasn't as if he asked for his so-called perfect physical features. If anything, humans were the most beautiful. Why did they cover it up as if they were embarrassed of how they looked? He didn't understand.
His beauty was manufactured. It was nothing compared to the naturalness humans had. Oh, what he would give, what he would do, to become one of them. They really didn't know just how wondrous, how magnificent they were, did they?
It was sad, so sad. He wanted to help, but what can one single trashed Flowernoid do for the billions of humans out there?
Nothing, and there was not a more honest truth than that.
The thought of being so useless tortured his heart horribly. He wanted them to be happy, that was what Flowernoids were for. To make humans happy. That was their sole reason for existing.
If that reason was gone, if they weren't needed, then why...
...why were they here?
"Oh, my! Goodness, are you okay?"
He kept his eyes closed, not aware that the worried question was for him. His arms lied limply at his sides, one knee upright and the other flat on the ground. His head ducked and bangs hiding half of his face.
"Um, excuse me, young man...but are you okay?"
Who was this human talking to? It couldn't be him. No one wanted a defunct doll like him. But the way she spoke and the tingling feeling of someone staring at him contradicted it.
"Are you hurt? Your clothes are dirty...did you, perhaps, run away?"
Maybe if he ignored her for a while, she would lose interest and go away. It was for the best, she wouldn't get happiness from such a shoddy Flowernoid like him.
"...are you asleep, maybe? Well, then, I guess I'll just wake you up!"
A small hand caressed his face, and he jumped at the sudden warmth. His eyes snapped open, and he blinked slowly, once, twice.
"Ah, there we go! Now, are you okay?"
What in the world was this woman doing? Didn't she know that he was utterly filthy? Or did she see the barcode on his wrist and know what he was? He lifted his head and looked at the human female blankly.
"Oh...! Oh...such pretty eyes..."
'Pretty'...? Had she really called his eyes pretty? Unbelievable. He had been expecting her to recoil in disgust, as every last human that owned him had. Was she alright in the head?
"Can you speak? If you can, please do. Tell me who, or what you are."
An order. He had to obey.
He parted his mouth slightly, and his voice came out in a nearly inaudible whisper. "Flowernoid," he murmured lowly, picking up his left hand and showing the tattooed back to the human woman.
She grasped it gently and traced the trademark with delicate fingers, her touches fleeting and feathery. He looked at her silently, and studied her as he did often to his barcode.
She seemed to be in her early twenties. Her long hair was dark brown, as her large eyes, which were wide with wonder as she stared closely at the flower print that spoke of his species. She was small in stature, but something about her radiated strength. She was not just a frail human woman. She was strong, more than capable of taking care of herself.
And by the way she talked, it was most likely that she was a mother. It was either that, or she worked as a kindergarten teacher or perhaps a babysitter.
He gazed curiously at her as she stared at his barcode, and blinked once when she looked up, her firm brown eyes looking straight into his without so much a bat of the eyelashes. Was that... determination?
"Do you have a name?"
He tilted his head at the odd question. He shook his head lightly. Of course he didn't, why would he? Masters told Flowernoids their names, not the other way around. Was this woman not familiar with the function of dolls like him? She must not be.
She was quiet, and he could almost see the gears turning in her head. So, she was a tactical planner as well. The slightest of smiles quirked his lips. How amusing.
"I have a son," she said, catching his attention, "he's four years old. He doesn't like the babysitters I hire to take care of him." She smiled, and but within the hopeless affection he detected a hint of melancholy. "He's afraid of getting too attached and getting hurt when they leave. He's such a sweet boy, really."
Ah. Were there still humans like that? Hope swelled inside him. Maybe he could help the child. Maybe, he could make him happy...
"Will you let him name you and be your master? Can you take care of him and make sure he doesn't get lonely?"
So, she did know about Flowernoids. Even if it was just a little bit, she still knew.
And that was more than enough.
"I..." He swallowed the lump in his throat, and cleared it softly. "I need to be ordered." That was the only way he would agree to do anything. That was the way he was arranged. Absolute obedience was something that his Florist believed strongly in, and all the Flowernoids she arranged had that quality.
She faltered, obviously not used to being so demanding. But she willed herself, and spoke in a clear, strong tone of voice.
"Take care of my son. Make him happy and feel loved."
His lips quirked into a dry smile as the familiar binding feeling of being ordered settled onto his chest. But this time, it was welcomed and wholly accepted. "As you wish," he breathed, closing his lustrous orange orbs as her words washed over him.
She stood up, pulling him along by his trademark hand. At full height, he was well over a head taller than the gentle woman. She smiled brightly at him, and the emptiness of his heart filled. It was just a little bit, but it wasn't entirely empty anymore, and that was the only thing that mattered.
"My name is Sawada Nana. It's nice to meet you, Mister Flowernoid."
He could only stare in wonder, trying not to cry in utter happiness like a human would have.
[edited, added, and reposted.]
my chapters are kinda short.
but that's all i can do.
this is updated at an irregular pace.
so, uh, please don't feel too hopeful...
I ACTUALLY HAVE A PLOT FOR THIS
thank you for reading. please point out any grammar or punctuation mistakes, if you have the time.
lots of love, Two-Faced Procrastinator.
*in the Japanese language of flowers, also known as hanakotoba, the fire lily defines "revenge" and/or "hatred". hence the title's summary, lol. in America, the language of flowers is referred to as floriography but it doesn't have the fire lily. it does have the orange lily, however, and it stands for "desire" and/or "passion".
**the fire lily also refers to the orange lily and the tiger lily. the "orange lily" title applies to any lily in the color of orange, so i didn't choose that. the name "tiger lily" is also given to orange lilies, but only if they are spotted. most orange lilies are spotted, but the fire lily is not. i have no clue why it was considered another name to the fire lily. the tiger lily has its own meaning in hanakotoba, and that's "wealth".
***well, there you go. that's the reasons why the "fire lily" name was chosen for this fic. and because it has "fire" in it. which, is pretty cool. and i shall not give spoilers. AURGH— /shot