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The first time Sakura coughed up a petal, she was in her bedroom after she went out for drinks with Ino, Hinata, and Temari. It was fun, but when they talked about their partners and children, it only reminded her how single she was.
And when they asked about her dating life, Sakura smiled and brushed them off. Told them that she was too busy with work to date anyone and she hadn’t found the right person yet.
But that wasn’t completely true.
The truth was she had already met someone. It was the reason she turned down love confessions from her patients and rejected dates from those who were actually interested in her, no matter how good-looking or kind they were.
The problem was… he didn’t return her feelings. Typical. He was too busy as the Sixth Hokage. It was obvious to her that he saw her as nothing more than his former student and teammate.
Still, she savored every moment with Kakashi. When he ruffled her hair playfully. When he said her name. Sakura. When he gave her those eye-crinkling smiles, the same one he gave everyone else because she wasn’t special to him—or at least, not in the way she wanted to be.
Stupid heart.
Why did she have to fall for someone in Team Seven again? She had chased after Sasuke for years; she couldn’t imagine how long getting over Kakashi would take, knowing her.
It had been years since the Fourth Shinobi World War and she still couldn’t help but think back on how many times he held her during it (when they were dangling above molten lava by a hair’s breadth, when he whisked her away from attacks), how that would probably be the last time his arms would ever hold her—
Sakura’s heart lurched in her chest, sudden and painfully tight, like the truth of it was squeezing her to the point where she couldn’t breathe. She began coughing violently with a hand over her mouth. It felt like something was crawling up from inside her and irritating the soft tissue of her trachea, withering on her tongue until she spat it out.
“What the…?”
A solitary petal rested on the palm of her hand.
Sakura stared at it.
For some reason, it reminded her of Kakashi. Under the moonlight, the pigment of the petal was the exact shade of his hair. Silver.
But that was ridiculous. Just because it happened to be silver didn’t mean it held any connection to him. She really needed to stop seeing him in everything. With a frustrated sigh, she crushed the petal in her hand and threw it in the trash.
But why would she cough up a flower petal, of all things? Sakura frowned, thinking.
There were flower petals in her drink earlier… maybe that was it.
…Except she didn’t remember those flower petals being silver.
Ever since that incident with the petal, there were random bouts of sharp, intense pain radiating in the center of her chest. The coughing continued, sporadic and infrequent. They seemed to happen whenever she saw or thought about Kakashi.
But that was silly.
There was no connection between her coughs and Kakashi whatsoever.
Time passed.
Accompanying the frequent coughs and the never-ending pain in her chest, she found herself struggling to breathe as well. Running and sparring sessions now ended with her doubled over, wheezing and gasping for air more than normal, like her body couldn’t get enough of it.
It had never been like this, ever. She had punched through boulders and rock walls, decimated and reshaped entire landscapes with pure ease. So why was her body betraying her like this over simple routine exercises? She always prided herself on being in tip-top shape.
“Are you okay, Sakura-chan?” Naruto asked her one day with Sasuke by his side after they finished training, his blond brows knitting together in concern while she kept coughing.
Sasuke didn’t say anything, only observed her quietly when she used her chakra to heal her throat, but she could feel his silent worry for her, see it in the way his lips were firmly pressed together, the nearly imperceptible downturn at the corners.
Worse than being not okay was the feeling of inadequacy, of not being able to keep up with Naruto and Sasuke all because of a pesky little cough.
It had been years since she felt like she wasn’t on equal standing with them and she did not want to revisit it. She was not that same girl anymore. She worked so hard to get to where she was now and she would not let this cough get in the way.
(Besides, it was only temporary. This cough would go away eventually… right? It had to.)
Sakura curled her fingers into a fist and cleared her throat, straightening. She forced a smile. “I’m fine! It’s just allergies. C’mon, let’s go get ramen like we promised.” The warm broth would help with her throat too, but she didn’t want to add that.
Naruto fell silent and for a moment, it made her nervous—until his brain registered the magical word: ramen. He pumped his fists in the air enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah! Ramen, ramen! Sasuke is paying this time too.” He stabbed a finger in Sasuke’s direction, who closed his eyes and calmly exhaled.
Sakura laughed, wincing a bit from the slight pain.
While Naruto walked a few paces ahead of them, his hands laced behind his back, babbling about the new additions to the menu at Ichiraku Ramen, Sasuke fell behind, matching his pace evenly with Sakura.
She sighed. “Like I said, I’m fine, Sasuke-kun. You don’t have to worry about me.” She waved her hand at him, keeping her other hand still balled into a fist.
“What’s in your hand, Sakura?” Sasuke asked curiously.
“W-What? There’s nothing, see?” Sakura opened her fist, splaying her fingers to him and wiggling them. “Now, c’mon, we’re walking too slow. Let’s go catch up with Naruto before he beats us to the restaurant!” She tugged him by the wrist, dragging him so that they could walk alongside Naruto.
Meanwhile, a silver petal drifted slowly to the ground behind her.
Later, when she was all alone, sipping on a cup of tea from the lifetime supply she received from Kakashi (which she didn’t let herself think too deep on it—he would’ve done the same for Naruto if he was in her position), Sakura reflected on the second mysterious petal to come from her.
People do not cough up flower petals and it wasn’t an elaborate genjutsu; she would have sensed it otherwise.
Maybe it was a side effect from an antidote she had been working on, using various new plants she acquired from the latest medical conference. It was possible that she developed an allergic reaction to one of them without realizing it.
Yeah, that has to be it, she thought, letting out a sigh of relief. It’s just an allergy. There’s nothing to worry about.
The coughs did not go away.
In fact, they became worse. The pain in her chest was excruciating now. It felt like invisible roots were spreading inside her. Many nights, she broke out in a cold sweat. Her health was gradually deteriorating. She was starting to feel fatigued and light-headed a lot these days.
Running and sparring were stressful on her body, so much so that she started to decline Naruto and Sasuke’s invitation to join them at the training grounds, claiming that she was busy with work. She didn’t want to make them worried if they suspected that she was sick.
And truthfully, she didn’t want to feel like she was the weakest link in Team Seven once again around them.
She started avoiding Kakashi because, for some inexplicable reason, her coughing fits were worse around him. Every time he appeared, she felt the pang of deep yearning rising within her—along with the petals. Avoiding him proved to be difficult, though, because he was everywhere. Even his face was carved in the mountain next to all the other past Hokage.
Her throat had grown scratchy and hoarse. She constantly used medical ninjutsu on herself, guiding her chakra to reduce the inflammation, concocted her own disgusting-tasting antidote and medicine to suppress the coughs and petals. While it was soothing and helped alleviate her throat, made it slightly easier to breathe, it did not make the source of the irritant go away, no matter what she did.
Medical ninjutsu could do many wonderful things, but it wasn’t magic. It couldn’t cure everything. It was science.
And science was failing her because what normal person coughed up silver petals all the time? All of her theories and research and textbooks were failing her because this was not an ordinary respiratory disease or infection, no matter how much she treated it as such. It was as if whatever was inside her was malignant, impervious to any type of remedy.
What was wrong with her?
She was Haruno Sakura, an elite kunoichi and the world’s best medical ninja. She surpassed Tsunade. People sought her out for the best treatment—and yet she couldn’t even figure herself out.
When it came time for her quarterly meeting with the Hokage regarding the hospital—the typical budget discussion, funding for different resources, project prioritization, medical ninja training and education, and so on—she started coughing up a storm the moment she thought of him.
And then, everything narrowed to this singular, terrifying point when she expelled a silver flower tinged with crimson blood at the edges.
Despite how much she yearned to see him, Sakura rescheduled the meeting. She was always punctual and never missed a meeting with him, but this time she had to.
Outside, dark storm clouds gathered, casting elongated shadows in the room. Thunder rumbled overhead. Rain hammered against the window panes of the hospital. Lightning cracked and flashed amidst the violet bruises of the sky in the distance, illuminating the bloody silver flower on the table and the x-rays and CT scans she took of herself. The lightning caught her attention.
It reminded her of him. It was his chakra affinity, wasn’t it? Lightning. The way he effortlessly summoned it in battles, how it sparked on his fingers and highlighted his handsome face when he raised it against his opponents—
Immediately, nausea took over. Sakura began to cough harshly and bent over. Clutching her chest, she vomited more silver flowers onto the floor. Sweat rolled down her temples.
This isn’t good, she thought.
When she was done vomiting, she rose to her feet, wiping her mouth with a clean paper towel. Swinging her gaze back to the wall, she closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, preparing herself for what she was about to see, what she refused to believe for the past several months.
Sakura opened her eyes and gasped at the black-and-white images of her skeleton. Ice-cold dread slithered up her spine. She braced her hands on the table, nearly losing her balance while her whole world tilted on its axis.
Flowers. There were flowers blooming inside her, taking root in her lungs. Flowers needed a source of nutrients to survive and they were leeching it from her blood.
Her mind whirled. How was this possible? Why was this happening to her? More importantly, what was the cure?
She glanced down at the flowers and, as if inspecting them for the first time, lifted one up to her eyes, pinching it between her fingers to examine it.
It was a moon lily. Moon lilies were rare for their unique silver petals, bearing a striking resemblance to the moon. They thrived in hot climates and could be seen in various parts of the Land of Fire at night. In the language of flowers, it meant secret love.
But what did ‘secret love’ have to do with anything? And if the flowers kept growing inside her, blocking her airways, stealing the nutrients that her body needed, so many things could go wrong, had already started going wrong.
She needed to act fast. There was no time to waste.
Sakura combed through the archives at the hospital, but nothing indicated that there was any prior case of a person suffering from flowers growing inside them. It was like it didn’t exist. Frustrated, she ran a hand through her hair, ready to rip some strands out. Her breaths were coming out in short pants.
Think, Sakura, think, she reprimanded herself, gnawing on the inside of her cheek, tapping her fingers impatiently on the desk.
Who else would know anything about this or have a strong background in plants and flowers?
Sakura’s eyes flew open at the sudden realization.
There was someone in the village who belonged to a clan that specialized in flowers.
“Hey, Sakura! Woah, you don’t look so good,” Ino greeted behind the counter of Yamanaka Flowers.
The shop was empty, save for her and Ino, surrounded by a multitude of flowers in different colors and varieties, suffusing the air with its saccharine perfume.
“Gee, thanks,” Sakura said with a roll of her eyes, pushing past the acute lightheadedness that was beginning to form. “Listen, I have a question for you.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Have you ever heard of someone throwing up flowers before?”
Ino frowned. “Throwing up flowers? Hmm… wait, hold on, that sounds familiar. Yeah, I have. It was one of the stories my mom used to tell me when I was a kid. But why do you want to know?”
“Just tell me, Ino. Please.”
Ino studied Sakura’s expression and whatever she saw there, it was enough for her to concede. “Alright. The story goes that long ago, there was a girl in the village who suddenly started coughing up flowers. She was in love with a man who was betrothed to the heiress of a noble family. They call it the Hanahaki Disease, when the person is suffering from unrequited love to the point where flowers grow inside them, slowly killing them.”
Sakura could hardly breathe.
“According to the story, there are two cures: either the person returns your feelings and the love is reciprocated. Or, the flowers are removed through surgery, but that means you lose all your memories and the feelings you once had for the person.”
“So, what happened to the girl?”
“Her beloved got married and she refused the surgery. She eventually suffocated on the flowers and died from heartbreak. What? Why are you looking at me like that? It’s just a story. It’s not actually real.”
Sakura ran out of the flower shop, processing the information.
So, her options were surgery or death since there was no way that Kakashi could ever return her feelings. Tears stung her eyes, her lungs struggling to take in oxygen.
What was she going to do?
Sakura paused, her breathing shallow from the sprint. Swaying, she steadied herself with a hand against a tree trunk. The dizzying intensified as she inhaled deeply. A gust of wind swept over her, catching the cherry blossoms from the thin branches above her and rolling the fleeting petals in the air. Surrounded by the blush of spring, she tipped her head up, searching for an answer in the clear blue sky.
Golden light streamed through the tree branches, warming her. The sunlight grew brighter, stronger, blinding her, even when she attempted to shield it with a frail hand. Her vision became blurry and a wave of nausea washed over her. Her knees buckled, and the ground rushed up beneath her. A torrent of pink petals rained over her.
She thought she recognized a familiar mop of unruly silver hair from a distance. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. Her thoughts were muddled as darkness slowly crept in, swallowing her whole.
And then everything became pitch-black.
“Sakura? Sakura!”
In her dream, the arms carrying her were warm and achingly familiar, holding her desperately. Her cheek rested against sturdy shoulders, and she could have sworn it was Kakashi’s voice whispering to her to hold on.
But it couldn’t have been him. Still, the dream felt nice, so she let herself pretend it was him. What was the harm in it?
This was only a dream.
This wasn’t real.
(If only it was.)
Wavering in and out of consciousness, she recognized several voices at once.
“Damn it, Kakashi! You should have called me sooner! This is serious!” Tsunade snapped.
“I called as soon as I could. She’d been acting strange lately and avoiding me. I didn’t think… I didn’t realize she was this sick. If I had known earlier…”
“What’s wrong with her, Tsunade-baachan?!” Naruto asked.
“She has the Hanahaki Disease.”
“Uhhh, Hana-what now?”
“Hanahaki Disease. It’s an exceedingly rare illness caused by unrequited love. As you know, chakra is the combination of physical energy and spiritual energy. When a person is suffering from the Hanahaki Disease, the emotional stress impacts a person’s chakra to the point where it becomes unstable, triggering a unique reaction that alters the body on a cellular level. The chakra materializes in the form of flowers inside the lungs as a physical representation of the person’s emotional state. They’ll continue to grow and spread while the feelings remain one-sided. If left untreated, it can be fatal.”
Tsunade sighed heavily.
“The last known case of this in the entire world was over a hundred years ago, long before this hospital was built.”
“So, uhh, what does all that mean exactly?”
“She’s dying, idiot,” Sasuke retorted.
“What?!”
“Yes, she’s in a critical state right now. This is highly advanced. The flowers are producing in rapid numbers and draining her. I have stabilized her condition for now and I’ll continue monitoring her, but… she’s living on borrowed time. At this rate, she only has a week left.”
“But it’s Sakura-chan! She can’t die!”
“Unless the person she’s in love with returns her feelings, the only other option is to surgically remove the flowers, if she gives her consent.”
“So?! Why can’t you just go ahead and remove them already?!”
“Because if I do that, then she’ll lose all her memories and feelings for that person. That’s Sakura’s choice to make.”
“… Oh.”
The room went silent.
“Well, what are we waiting for?! We can’t just stand around here and do nothing! We have to go and find this person and—”
“Naruto, you’re being too loud. You’re going to wake her up. Let’s go and let Sakura rest,” Sasuke cut in.
“Don’t tell me… you know who it is, don’t you, Sasuke?” Naruto asked.
Sakura drifted back to sleep.
“Kakashi-sama, you’ve been here for days. You have an important meeting with—”
“I don’t care who it is or what it’s about. Cancel it.”
“Understood.”
There was the sound of a door closing.
Silence.
“Sakura, I…”
Darkness fell upon her and it was quiescent once more.
Sakura’s eyelids fluttered open, blinking in confusion as she took in the sterile white ceiling of the hospital room. She could feel lingering traces of Tsunade’s healing chakra within her, despite the ache in her chest. She placed a hand over her still-beating heart.
Tsunade-sama… thank you, she thought.
Sakura swallowed, wincing a bit. It felt like tiny shards of glass were scraping her throat. Slowly, she sat up and glanced around the room, noticing a fresh bouquet on her bedside table. Her gaze dropped to the basin on the floor, then wandered over to the other side of her bed where a chair was pulled up next to her.
On top of the chair was a familiar, worn-out book along with a blanket draped over the armrest.
Sakura’s eyes widened. Kakashi-sensei…? He never left behind Icha Icha, though. But who else did she know read those books? Her heart quickened. Had he been staying with her all this time?
Another wave of nausea consumed her. Flowers crawled up the back of her throat. Sakura twisted and retched them up in the basin, plucking the remnant withering petals out of her mouth and tossing them in the basin.
With a miserable groan, she sank back down on the bed and closed her eyes, balling her hands into fists. Her nails stabbed her palms. A teardrop escaped, gliding down her cheeks; she could taste the salt of it on her tongue.
Surgery or death. She still hadn’t made her decision yet. Tears blinded her, blurring the room as she furiously swiped them away with the back of her hand, casting another sidelong glance at the pen and paper.
A life without love wasn’t worth living. She didn’t want to die, and she also couldn’t keep putting everyone through the pain of watching her suffer any longer.
Coming to a decision, she reached over and grabbed the pen and paper. She sat upright and started to write, ink flowing readily from the tip of the pen onto the blank surface. There was no point in hiding her feelings now; he knew what the illness was.
Her intention wasn’t to make Kakashi feel guilty or obligated that he had to return her feelings. She couldn’t make someone fall in love with her. No, she wanted to be honest with him and tell him how she felt. At the very least, she owed it to herself to wait for his response. She wasn’t afraid of his answer; she knew what to expect.
After all, Sakura wasn’t a stranger to rejection. She received it from Sasuke and Naruto—okay, Naruto was a fake confession, but it still counted.
Regardless, Kakashi was going to reject her, too. And that was okay because at least she was finally being transparent with him, after all this time. Once she was done writing this letter and received his answer, she would tell Tsunade to proceed with the surgery the next time she saw her mentor.
Sure, having the surgery would wipe away all her memories and love for Kakashi, but she would still be alive. She could meet him again, make new memories with him, and continue furthering her medical career.
Maybe in her next life, she’d fall in love again with someone new. Someone more… attainable. Someone who would love her back.
Dear Kakashi-sensei…
It was still light out when Sakura woke up again. The sky was tinted with shades of lavender from the setting sun.
This time, Kakashi was sitting beside her, his face buried in a book. When he lowered the book, his eyes met hers and grew wide.
“Sakura, you’re awake.” Kakashi straightened and closed Icha Icha, shoving it in his pocket. He looked exhausted like he hadn’t slept in days.
She sat up and opened her mouth to speak, to let his name fall on her lips. Kakashi-sensei. But when her lips parted, all she could taste and feel were endless flowers still blooming inside her, making speech impossible. Only a faint whisper of a breath passed through; she must have lost her voice from all the coughing.
She raised a hand to try to summon some of her chakra to heal the damage so that she could speak, an instinctive response as a medical ninja, but Kakashi captured her wrist, halting her. He shook his head.
“Don’t. Try not to use your chakra right now. You’re in no condition for that.”
His hand was warm; a stark contrast to how cold she felt as she lowered her hand back on the bed.
“Here.” Releasing her wrist, he moved to grab a pen and paper—the very same one she used to write him that letter—and extended it to her, sensing her desire to talk to him in some way.
Sakura smiled weakly and started to scribble on the paper, nervous but unafraid.
Did you read my letter to you?
She noticed it wasn’t on the bedside table right where she had left it for him.
Kakashi nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly.
Sakura looked away from him and focused out the window instead. The ache in her chest returned tenfold. This was it. This was the moment that he was going to turn her down. It was inevitable. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes when he told her—
“I’m in love with you, Sakura.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Astonished, she whipped around to stare at him in a mixture of awe and disbelief. The sincerity in his eyes, the red tint on his cheeks and ears—it all made her heart swell. Tears swam in her eyes, clinging to her lashes, threatening to fall.
“I’ve been in love with you ever since the war ended. But… I thought you were still in love with Sasuke. Besides, I’m much older than you. I used to be your teacher and now I’m your Hokage.”
He dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. “So, I kept it hidden. When you started to avoid me, I thought it was for the best. But I knew something was wrong when you rescheduled our meeting and then when I saw you faint, how thin and pale you’ve gotten… it scared me. The thought of losing you… I couldn’t bear it. When I found out that it wasn’t Sasuke you’re in love with, that it was someone else… Sasuke told me it was me, but I didn’t believe him. How could it be me?”
He shook his head.
“Then I saw your letter and read it. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.” Kakashi’s hand rested on top of hers. “Don’t get the surgery, please. I… I don’t want you to forget me.”
Sakura didn’t know whether to cry or laugh, overwhelmed by the myriad of emotions flooding through her. She sniffled, wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing, and nodded. She hated the way that she still couldn’t talk right now as she reached for the pen, writing hastily.
I won’t get the surgery. But I told you in the letter already, it’s not your fault. Please don’t blame yourself. I’m equally to blame, too, you know.
The pen paused and then continued.
I still have a hard time believing any of this is real. What if this is all a dream?
Droplets of glimmering tears stained the page.
Kakashi smiled, squeezing her hand gently. “What can I do to convince you that this is real?”
Kiss me.
She blushed, quickly adding the word ‘but’, underlined for emphasis.
I want to be the one to pull down your mask. Then I’ll know this is real.
Kakashi laughed. “Alright,” he agreed.
He leaned in, meeting his lips halfway with hers. Keeping their gazes locked, Sakura lifted a hand to the edge of his mask. A frisson of excitement passed through her as her fingertips grazed his cheeks over the border where his skin met the fabric.
The last time she touched him, just like this, was during the war, when she rushed over to examine his scarred eye after Madara stole the Sharingan from him.
With bated breath, she tugged the mask down, letting it pool beneath his chin.
His face was even prettier than she thought. Maybe it was a good thing that he wore the mask because if people knew this was what he looked like—
Kakashi suddenly closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against hers, ceasing all thoughts.
The kiss was shy and tentative, his lips soft as his gloved hand skated her waist to the small of her back, tugging her close to him. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, gentle and slow. Her hand reached up to brush the silver hair on the nape of his neck, savoring the warm skin beneath her fingertips.
She could feel the weight of his hesitancy behind the kiss, in the careful way he was holding her like he was navigating new territory and didn’t want to push her any further. Taking the lead, she parted her mouth for him just slightly so that she could feel his air rushing in her searing lungs.
One by one, the flowers inside her began to dissolve, making it easier for her to breathe. Warmth bloomed in her cheeks. Her strength started to return, the flare of her chakra healing her throat and her voice box. The bed sagged as Sakura pulled Kakashi down on the bed with her and deepened the kiss, his forearms bracketing her head.
Kakashi pulled away after a while, resting his forehead against hers while they gasped for air. His breath fanned her face.
“We haven’t had our first date yet and you’re already trying to take me in bed,” he teased.
The full effect of seeing Kakashi smirk lazily without a mask made Sakura’s heart race. “I didn’t say you could stop,” she chided playfully, bringing his mouth back to hers with her hands fisted in his flak jacket.
“Wait, someone could walk in—”
“I don’t care. Let them see! I nearly died, and I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever.”
Tsunade leaned against the doorway, smiling and watching over them with Naruto who looked shocked, and Sasuke, who wasn’t surprised in the least.
“Woah, it was Kakashi-sensei all along?! Hey, no wonder he was so mopey and always asked about Sakura-chan!” Naruto whispered.
“Took you long enough to figure it out,” Sasuke mumbled.
“Alright, c’mon you two brats, let’s give the lovebirds some privacy.”