cultivate

“Good morning, everyone,” he says softly to the rows and rows of glass.

Whenever Nai returns from his mysterious trips, he always brings another Plant to add to their family. One that is usually ailing, hurting, the liquid in her container stained pink but not yet the deep red that Vash has come to fear. Vash can feel a pull towards those Plants, towards the ones in need, like a hook in his sternum, trying to drag him forward. He never follows it. He’s too scared to. Too timid.

Vash grows. He tries to figure out how he can give back to the brother who saved him.