Tsubaki — the tale of a scentless flower in love
1/2
I remember my true inception as clearly as the activities of today. My earliest memories date back to life wholly below ground, within my seed. It was a constant struggle revolving around attempts at escaping the prison that was the seed coat. I also bear hazy recollections of a time before the ground. A time of darkness and cold, with only few wisps of sunlight. I seldom think of those times for even when there was light, I seemed to see the world slowly and skewered.
My favourite memory remains lifting that densely refractive lens through which I viewed the world. In literal terms, I presume it was when my seed coat split and I began to grow through the soil. It was a euphoric process as my mind and body finally escaped the confines of the seed coat. Moist soil enveloped my very being and caressed my newly formed roots. I could feel my strength magnifying as my roots greedily lapped up the abundant nutrients. I felt my senses expand as my stem grew upwards through the soil, hastily approaching the sparse rays of light that promised even greater pleasure. So delightful was this process that it felt like I broke the soil surface instantly though upon retrospection, it could not have happened in less than half a year.
Life above soil was a tornado of sensations. The pleasant feel of sunlight running through my leaves, the inconstant adjustments of temperature and the ceaseless vibrations of external movement all left me positively dazed. I particularly enjoyed waltzing slowly with the warm breeze and its ever-changing steps. Swaying ever so delicately against its movements. Moreso, I relished the presence of the infinite insects that wandered on and around me. The pollen I acquired off them as the plundered my nectar brought about bouts of delectations as it coursed through my pollen tube. It continued in this blissful manner until the advent of the humans.
I was the sole Camellia amongst a sea of grass so it wasn’t uncommon for the humans to approach me excitedly. They always remarked on the beauty of my flowers, and in turn almost always picked one off to smell. Their reactions, on the other hand, all leaned towards negativity varying through surprise, mild distaste and utter disgust. This was because my flowers, although beautiful to sight, lacked all traces of a scent. The first time this happened, it burst my bubble of happiness and I was hurt significantly. Upon its constant repetition, I grew accustomed to the disappointment and would rebuff my pride by recalling that I was Tsubaki, the Camellia! This did not however stop the shine from my flowers from dimming ever so slightly. With each reproachful human, I swayed less with the wind and my stem slouched. I’m not sure why but I sought their approval immensely; almost as though a human smile could replace the very sun. But repeatedly, I was rejected. Then she came along.
She pranced about with no apparent care in the world. Bumbling about with her shiny pink shoes causing the hurt of many a green grass. She wandered aimlessly around the field. Until she saw me. I cannot begin to describe how her face lit up. How her eyes became double their size and the stars from the skies hid behind them. I tried to not be moved by this completely open display of pure joy but my flowers bloomed a little more in that instant. She approached me slowly, with each step gingerly taken, till she had me in her arms. Not just a flower, mind you, me! Root and all. The fog returned and it was thicker than ever. And then everything went dim.
The second part can be found here.
