The air was heavy, moisture beading against anything that stood still long enough, and a soft but overpowering scent of loam and crushed flowers riffling through the stillness. Despite winter’s icy grip on Kumogakure the Yamanaka’s glassed-in greenhouses displayed a fecund warmth not easily found even in the most well-heated manor. Shiori stomped her booted feet several times at the entrance, displacing snow and slush onto the welcome mats, before gazing at the overgrown space in awe.
It was a different sort of warmth completely unlike a banked flame, almost oppressive in the way that it pressed in from all angles. Stretching her arms out, Shiori wriggled her fingers, curious at the slow curl of disturbed air so unlike the cuttingly chilled winds outside. This was one of the smaller greenhouses connected to the Yamanaka plot with only four long rows of well-tended greenery. In the center of the space was a long rolling path, liberally dotted with farming tools and covered with a sort of dark burlap to keep the heat in.
The pamphlet at the gate had indicated that this building was turned over exclusively to the tropical variety of hot-house flowers, but Shiori spied a few puffy shrubs and what looked like a dried-up tree trunk nestled on the furthest burrow. She spent a few minutes walking the space, sniffing appreciatively at the blooming flowers and brushing against their lush petals. These were wholly unlike the spikey wildflowers she had picked back home, or the tiny purple stars that spread like wildfire beneath the sage scrub.
Overhead great glass panels were welded together, creating a patchwork of transparent walls, only the bones of the greenhouse visible from afar. It was early afternoon, and someone had spread translucent skins of dark red paper across the sloping roof. The weak winter sunlight pierced the dyed material and cast diaphanous shadows over the growing flora. Humming softly to herself, Shiori picked out a sturdy wooden ledge to the inner most row and sat.
She still wasn’t sure if she believed that Higeki was going to show, that the offer of a joint-training session was real. Smoothing her hakama, Shiori shook her head, smiling faintly at her own nerves. The other girl had sent a note early that morning, and Shiori had been the one to pick the destination, gleefully leaping at the chance to get away from the Academy’s main campus. It didn’t hurt that the Yamanaka greenhouse complex was quiet and tranquil, just the sort of location where they could focus without interruptions. Curling her toes, Shiori watched the nearest plant, wondering whether it breathed the same as she, or how it managed to strive unerringly towards the sun.
It was a different sort of warmth completely unlike a banked flame, almost oppressive in the way that it pressed in from all angles. Stretching her arms out, Shiori wriggled her fingers, curious at the slow curl of disturbed air so unlike the cuttingly chilled winds outside. This was one of the smaller greenhouses connected to the Yamanaka plot with only four long rows of well-tended greenery. In the center of the space was a long rolling path, liberally dotted with farming tools and covered with a sort of dark burlap to keep the heat in.
The pamphlet at the gate had indicated that this building was turned over exclusively to the tropical variety of hot-house flowers, but Shiori spied a few puffy shrubs and what looked like a dried-up tree trunk nestled on the furthest burrow. She spent a few minutes walking the space, sniffing appreciatively at the blooming flowers and brushing against their lush petals. These were wholly unlike the spikey wildflowers she had picked back home, or the tiny purple stars that spread like wildfire beneath the sage scrub.
Overhead great glass panels were welded together, creating a patchwork of transparent walls, only the bones of the greenhouse visible from afar. It was early afternoon, and someone had spread translucent skins of dark red paper across the sloping roof. The weak winter sunlight pierced the dyed material and cast diaphanous shadows over the growing flora. Humming softly to herself, Shiori picked out a sturdy wooden ledge to the inner most row and sat.
She still wasn’t sure if she believed that Higeki was going to show, that the offer of a joint-training session was real. Smoothing her hakama, Shiori shook her head, smiling faintly at her own nerves. The other girl had sent a note early that morning, and Shiori had been the one to pick the destination, gleefully leaping at the chance to get away from the Academy’s main campus. It didn’t hurt that the Yamanaka greenhouse complex was quiet and tranquil, just the sort of location where they could focus without interruptions. Curling her toes, Shiori watched the nearest plant, wondering whether it breathed the same as she, or how it managed to strive unerringly towards the sun.