Chapter Text
The first time, it was cherry blossoms.
“He has Hanahaki disease, type one. It’s fairly typical of boys his age - the procedure is usually to wait, unless it’s progressed enough to warrant surgery.”
The doctor’s voice is even - calm. But the implications of her words don’t go unnoticed by Shuichi, who cringes almost immediately despite his nausea, hunching over in an effort to make himself smaller. The action is automatic, easy - he’s always hiding in the shadows, curled up tight and quiet. Dark-haired, stick-thin, and pale-skinned, he passes for a ghost without much effort. Melting into the shadows is second nature to him.
Yet the cold, artificial glow of the overhead lights chase the shadows away, and his father’s burning gaze bores into his back, heated and edged with hurt. Shuichi can’t bear to return his stare. So instead, he looks down at his feet, kicking them lazily. The sneakers he wears - dark black, and utterly boring - are splattered with drying blood. He feels his stomach jolt and tears his gaze away, face contorted. In the frantic move to get to the hospital, he’d been light-headed and woozy. The fact that his shoes were painted a blood red escaped him, then.
“Can you do anything about it? He has a future ahead of him!”
Shuichi winces. His father’s voice is tinged with anger, disappointment, and fear. The doctor, tall and long-limbed, can’t do much other than shake her head. The emotion that builds in Shuichi’s father’s eyes make the teen want to hide under the table and melt into the last of the room’s shadows. He knows that look. It won’t be long now before his father begins to shout. Shuichi wants to tell him to stop - it’s not her fault. But he knows that if he does, he’ll only make the situation worse.
His father storms out of the room a few minutes later. The door shuts behind him with a bang, and Shuichi flinches. The doctor, only mildly frazzled by the man’s shouting, turns to face Shuichi. Even though the rest of her face looks tired, her sympathetic smile speaks volumes. Shuichi’s stomach twists further, and he is struck by the sudden desire to run out of the room.
“I’m sorry, it’s my fault he’s upset. I didn’t tell him.” Shuichi says, the words coming out before he can stop them from spilling past his thin, pale lips.
The doctor merely nods and puts her clipboard on the counter, “Thank you. I know that can be hard for parents to hear for the first time...”
She stares straight into his eyes when she responds, and Shuichi only feels sicker. There’s a pause, and then comes the question Shuichi had been dreading from the start, “But I’m here for you, Shuichi, not him. How are you holding up?”
Shuichi shrugs. He can smell the sweat on his skin, thick and pungent. The blood stains that decorate his shirt in red have not faded, despite how much water he had poured on them in the bathroom. He hates the smell more than anything else.
It... could be worse.
“I’m fine.” He insists, hoping to sound confident.
He doesn’t. His words come out as a croak, and he's no longer able to meet the doctor’s gaze. The doctor doesn’t comment on his lackluster response, simply checking her chart once more, “Did either of your parents know about this before you came here?”
Shuichi doesn’t answer right away, opting to glance at the clock instead. It’s 2:02, meaning he’s missing his math exam. His shoulders sag - he’ll have to make it up tomorrow.
“No.”
The doctor’s face contorts into a look halfway between pity and befuddlement, “Why didn’t you tell your parents?”
Shuichi would have laughed if his throat didn’t burn every time he exhaled and his stomach wasn’t gurgling like some unholy swamp monster. He unconsciously picks at the dried blood on his hand, looking down.
“It’s supposed to go away on its own - why make them worry?”
The doctor purses her lips. A strand of light blonde hair falls over her face as she turns to write something down on her clipboard. She leaves, bidding Shuichi a quick goodbye and leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Hanahaki.
He’d expected that diagnosis ever since he was ten and he woke up with petals clogging the back of his throat. He remembers the confusion that jarred him from his half-asleep daze, and then the desperate, frenzied choking that left him shivering. The pain and the episodes were like that, for a while - unpleasant, scary, and infuriating, but bearable. It was only recently that his coughing started to bring up blood, and the petals started to inhibit his ability to breathe. Before, they were small, pretty little things that were only mildly uncomfortable to cough up. The petals change eventually, morphing into fully formed flowers, blooming and beautiful. But as lovely as they are, they make Shuichi feel like he can’t breathe, and sometimes, they don’t come out until he vomits.
His mother would have had him transfer last year, if she’d have known. Maybe he could have put off the surgery longer, or maybe it would have gone away on its own. But she would be foolish to think that, and Shuichi knows that now. No matter what Shuichi does, the hanahaki never gets better. He trembles when he feels a petal flutter in his throat, and he swallows it down. It’s unpleasant, but he needs to suppress the urge to cough - he doesn’t want to pass out again.
His mother comes in only moments later, and her tone of voice leaves no room for argument.
“You’re getting surgery in two months.”
« ────── « ⋅ ❀ ⋅ » ────── »
He never forgets the day before it begins.
Kaede sits next to him in the couch, her arm over his shoulder. It’s comfortable - safe. He leans into her side, and she giggles, “Shuichi, did you see that?”
She points to the screen, and he nods. She smiles, he smiles back, and a split second later, he’s choking. Kaede’s eyes crease in concern when he doubles over and coughs so hard he nearly gags.
“Are you okay?” She asks, all wide-eyed and innocent.
She has always been sweet. Too sweet, even - she dotes on Shuichi, her big, violet-colored eyes soft with sympathy. Kaede is nothing if not forgiving, which makes Shuichi’s chest throb painfully. He doesn’t know why it hurts for sure, only that it does.
After a moment, he answers her in a raspy whisper, “Water, I… I need water.”
His heart is racing, and by some miracle he’s able to push himself to his feet. Kaede is too stunned to react when he walks to the refrigerator in a strange, hazy fog. As the pain intensifies, his stomach drops, and panic makes his blood turn cold. The sudden coughing, and the fluttering pain… it’s a silent, painful confirmation of childish feelings he hadn’t grown out of. It’s a simple explanation, a common diagnosis, even… but he doesn’t dare admit it to himself. No, that would make it real - too real. There’s no reason to jump to conclusions, anyways, since he doesn’t have any solid proof. It could be anything… maybe it’s allergies, or a cold? He doesn’t try to dwell on it - even if he’s right, it might go away. He’ll be free, live to laugh about it later on in life, and tell stories about his brush with -
“Shuichi?”
He nearly drops his cup at the sound of his name. Kaede stands beside him, holding the remote in her hands. She looks worried, and his chest throbs painfully. Why is she so… kind? She holds her hand out to him, “ I paused the movie, we can - ”
There’s a flutter in his chest, and Shuichi feels fear make his knees go weak. He speaks, stumbling over his words,“I… I t-think I’m getting a cold. You, um… y-you should go home, Kaede.”
Her face falls, and Shuichi feels sick to his stomach, “Oh Shuichi, I’m sorry. But, I - ”
“I don’t want to get you sick.” Shuichi presses, interrupting her.
She can’t stay here, not when he’s like this. As sick as it makes him feel to lie to Kaede, the thought of her knowing makes him sicker. Just as Kaede opens her mouth to respond, Shuichi’s mother comes down the stairs and enters the kitchen. She’s dressed in a flowing dress, casual yet stunning all the same. Her eyes, colorless and cold, survey the kitchen. They lock onto Shuichi, and under her gaze, the hair on the back of his neck prickles.
“What’s going on?” Asks his mother, eyes leaving Shuichi and falling onto Kaede.
“I’m getting a cold and I don’t want Kaede to get sick.” Shuichi blurts out before Kaede can even open her mouth.
His mother stares at him. He tries not to shrink under her gaze, her pale grey eyes piercing through him like two sharpened long swords. They’re searching for lies, he thinks - cracks in his story, avoidance. But eventually, she breaks the stare and sighs, “I’ll take you home in a few minutes, Kaede. Get your things together and get in the car.”
Kaede nods slowly, brushing past Shuichi with a worried expression. He hates the look she gives him as she walks out of the room. Even so, Shuichi watches her go, acutely aware of the fact that his mother’s eyes hover over him the entire time. When Kaede is gone, Shuichi’s mother turns to him once more, her sharp features creating deep, dark hollows on her gaunt face, “Say goodbye to her before she leaves, Shuichi, then go straight to bed.”
He nods, saying nothing as he waits for Kaede to return. She comes back with her things, and Shuichi escorts her to the garage door. Opening the door, Shuichi faces her, “I’m sorry Kaede, I-”
He trails off as Kaede’s arms wrap around him, and his throat goes dry. She hugs him for a moment before she pulls back and smiles softly, “It’s okay Shuichi! I want you to get better, alright? Call me tomorrow and tell me how you’re feeling.”
Her voice is upbeat and light, but the smile she gives him is forced. He bobs his head weakly, and she walks outside before he can come up with something to say besides another pathetic apology. His mother passes by him shortly after, her thing form making its way to the car. She starts up the old sedan, and the garage door opens with a loud, prolonged squeak. The car rumbles as it backs out.
Even after Kaede is gone, Shuichi’s throat still burns, hot and unpleasant. Shuichi heeds his mother’s order and goes to bed, but it’s hours before he falls asleep.
When he wakes up, there are petals fluttering in his throat.
« ────── « ⋅ ❀ ⋅ » ────── »
He is first diagnosed with asthma, then acid reflux, then finally, hanahaki.
He doesn’t need an inhaler, but the antacids soothe him sometimes. It makes it easier to fake it, too. His parents buy it, and they don’t ask him about it as long as he shows no signs of illness or dropping grades. Shuichi tries to keep it a secret from Kaede to, because as close as they are, somewhere deep down, he knows he can’t tell her. She’d ask more and more questions, and Shuichi wouldn’t be able to lie at that point.
He doesn’t want her to know, too, because he is selfish.
But as much as he wants to keep his ailment a secret, Shuichi can’t avoid her. They’re swinging on the swingset on one of the last days of fifth grade when his throat fills with petals and his stomach lurches. He jumps off his swing, runs to the woods, and vomits whole flowers into the river.
Kaede doesn’t see it, and he assures her it’s just something that he ate.
« ────── « ⋅ ❀ ⋅ » ────── »
When Shuichi looks at cherry blossoms, he feels resentment.
He used to hate getting sick. But the fear dulled over time as his sickness slowly became part of his daily routine. Dread and begrudging acceptance intermingled as the nausea and chest pain became a constant. He gets used to his throat always burning and his stomach always gurgling, unpleasant and raw. The fluttering in his lungs is regular, too, becoming both a fixture of his life as well and a constant reminder of the plants that have taken root within the twisting, branching passages of his lungs.
He’s surprised no one suspects it earlier. Yet... he’s always been sickly, introverted and plagued by allergies in his younger years. The years he suffers alone through the panic attacks and the cold, unfiltered dread that grips him when he feels the petals crawling up his throat are years he wishes he could forget. The only comfort he has is the books he reads in the library. They tell him stories about places far, far away from the petals he vomits into the toilet in the morning. It’s a respite from reality, an escape he desperately needs.
No matter how bad it gets, he doesn’t tell Kaede or his parents - they can’t know.
His parents would make him get surgery, and even if it was successful, he could lose the ability to feel emotion, which scared him so much more than hanahaki itself. On the other hand, if Kaede knew, she’d blame herself, he’s sure of it. She’s too kind, too generous - knowing that she was the cause of his illness would destroy her. She sees him as a brother, as a friend, and nothing more. The flowers remind him of that every time he breathes, fluttering in his chest and crawling up his throat
But...Shuichi can see why people consider the blossoms beautiful, even if he doesn’t. They’re pretty things, pale pink with a darker center and fat, rounded leaves. They are so easy to crush, so easy to reduce to nothing. They don’t last long in nature, either, blooming for only a few weeks before turning white and dying. Maybe that’s why they’re so common in first-time Hanahaki sufferers, and why, out of all the flowers, they’re the ones that clear up the fastest.
Shuichi’s however, never clears.
« ────── « ⋅ ❀ ⋅ » ────── »
They sit in the grass under an old tree with gnarled bark and boughs of wide, green leaves that sprawl out high above them. The smell of spring air and freshly-cut grass drifts through the wind, lazy and mild. Shuichi reads the equation on his homework over again in his head, his eyes narrowed. His pencil taps on his paper listlessly as his mind works. Kaede is present, too - she sits beside him, reading a book they have to read for their literature class. He’s glad she’s here… they hadn’t spent much time together, recently, with finals looming over them like long, dark shadows.
Shuichi’s phone buzzes, breaking the relative silence of the afternoon calm. He sighs and taps the screen. It’s four o'clock; they’ve been out of school for nearly an hour and a half. The source of the buzz turns out to be a text from Shuichi’s mother. The message is simple, short and to the point, like always. She’ll pick him up in fifteen minutes at the front of the school.
He doesn’t want to leave Kaede. His sudden stiffness must be apparent, because suddenly Kaede is leaning over, her breath ghosting over the side of his throat, “Your mom?”
Her hair cascades over his skin, sending a shiver up his arm. She smells familiar, like a home away from home. Shuichi nods, “Yeah, she’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
Petals rise in his throat, and he rubs his chest automatically. He replies to his mother with three words - Okay, be there . She’ll know what he means. Across the field, a girl with dark brown hair in long pigtails is walking with a boy dressed in a purple coat. Kaede stares at them as they walk, unblinking.
Shuichi is settling back into his algebra homework when he hears Kaede cough. At first, he writes it down as nothing. But when her soft coughs become loud, hacking noises, and her inhalations sound like frenzied gasps for air, he looks over.
Kaede’s face is pale, and in her hand is covered in blood. Shuichi’s body goes cold.
“Shuichi, I…”
Her hand shakes as she uncurls her fingers, revealing a lone, red poppy sitting delicately in her palm.
“I think I have hanahaki.”
« ────── « ⋅ ❀ ⋅ » ────── »
When Shuichi is sixteen, he stops breathing.
He’s at home when it happens, bent over a trash can, blood and flowers flowing out of his mouth. The pain makes him want to rip his own throat out as he retches, eyes watering and stomach acid burning his already sensitive esophagus. It’s his worst attack yet, brought on by Kaede’s presence only minutes ago. He’s fortunate that she had to leave when she did. He doesn’t know how he could have explained his sickness to her if she had stayed.
One flower catches in his windpipe, and Shuichi chokes. He frantically sticks his hand in the back of his throat and tries to grab the flower. Try as he might, he can’t just can’t reach it. He gags and vomits again, but the flower stays lodged in the back of his throat. A wave of heat followed by a wave of cold rips through his body. Fear makes his hands unsteady - he falls, knocking his head against the floor. Spots appear in his line of sight, and the whole world spins.
Shuichi hears the sounds of footsteps and his uncle’s voice before his vision goes dark.
« ────── « ⋅ ❀ ⋅ » ────── »
He meets her when he is five.
The classroom is awash with stale, artificial light, and each and every wall has been painted in a disgustingly cheerful shade of yellow. Shuichi sits alone at a table in the back of the ugly room, his hand tightly clenched around a black crayon. It has bite marks on its end, and the paper around it is peeling away. A teacher crouches near him, trying to coax him out of his seat.
He doesn’t move.
The teacher sighs and stands, advancing towards him. His heart races as she gets closer, and he panics. Abandoning the crayon, he ducks under the table and out of the teacher’s grasp. No matter how hard the teacher tries, she cannot reach him there. Even the classroom aide cannot grab him, both of the adults being too slow and too big to fit underneath the table. They continue their attempts to entice him out while he huddles pathetically near the wall. Yet despite their efforts, none of their bribes work - Shuichi is too wary of them to be persuaded by things such as candy and toys.
A touch on his shoulder makes him flinch.
A girl crawls up besides him, her blonde hair short and unkempt. She has a wild look in her eyes, and Shuichi is immediately on guard. She seems to not notice his fear, coming closer despite his clear dislike for her presence. She speaks before he’s really even able to process what’s happening, bright and peppy, “Hi! My name is Kaede, what’s yours?”
He stares at her, unmoving. He’s decided that she’s the lesser of the two evils, but still isn’t ready to trust her quite yet. But… his name? He looks over at her, not making eye contact, “I’m… umm, Shuichi.”
She smiles, and he notices she’s missing one of her front teeth. Her voice is louder when she replies, causing the boy to wince, “Hi Umm Shuichi! Isn’t it so cool under here? I love hiding under the tables!”
She leans in closer, and Shuichi leans back, frowning. Even though she smells nice, the volume of her voice bothers him. He scoots away, discreetly attempting to cover his ears. Maybe the teachers aren’t as bad as he thought they were...?
“It’s just Shuichi, not umm Shuichi…” He mumbles, staring at the ground.
Moving backwards, unfortunately, only entices Kaede to move closer. The girl’s face brightens, “Oh! Shuichi! Hi! I found a skittle at my last school under a table once - it was red, my favorite!”
Shuichi cringes, screwing up his face. He can’t imagine why anyone would eat candy that they found on the floor. Kaede just grins wider in response, reaching out for his hand, “Awesome, right? But I couldn’t find any under here…” She trails off, her expression somber.
Shuichi’s look of disgust deepens as her hand inches closer, and Kaede’s smile returns, now even wider than before, “Do you like instruments? ‘Cuz I like the piano! Come on, come on, I’ll show you!”
With that, Shuichi finds his hand enclosed in hers. She all but drags him past the teachers and towards the opposite corner of the room. Once they are there, Kaede sits down on the seat of the toy piano. She pats the empty space next to her, “Sit down! Let’s play together!”
He sits next to her, and she begins to play, her shoulder brushing up against his when she moves. She’s… not a bad player. In fact, Shuichi finds himself relaxing as she plays, the sounds of the room drowned out by her rendition of Fur Elise. It’s comforting, soft and so very beautiful. He smiles, and despite the ugly walls and the scary teachers, Shuichi finds he is content sitting next to Kaede and listening to her play.
« ────── « ⋅ ❀ ⋅ » ────── »
They’re walking home when she tells him "her" name.
The pavement radiates heat, and Shuichi feels sweat dribble down his back. Soon, school will be ending, and Shuichi will have a summer to relax. A gust of wind gently ruffles his hair as they turn a corner, providing momentary relief from the sun’s warmth. For the most part, they walk in silence.
“It’s Maki Harukawa.”
Shuichi does not startle at Kaede’s sudden confession. Kaede and her had been friends for years, ever since she and Kaede beat up bullies together in grade school.
“Is she…?”
Kaede looks down. Her steps falter, and Shuichi can practically see her heart split in half.
“No.”
The sun burns on the back of his neck. He clears his throat and squints at the air rippling over the grey-black road ahead. Despite the heat, Shuichi feels cold.
“I’m sorry.”
« ────── « ⋅ ❀ ⋅ » ────── »
Kaede and Shuichi sit together on Kaede’s bed. Kaede’s house is big, expensive, and new. Her parents aren’t home, today. She tells him that they are off on a big photo shoot in the city, but she doesn’t know which one… she seldom does. They aren’t alone, however - Kaede’s grandmother is home, and the drone of the TV downstairs serves as a reminder of her presence.
That doesn’t stop them from interacting as usual, however. They speak in normal tones and don’t hide their conversation. School is soon, and they’re getting ready together. It’s a tradition, of sorts, recognized and respected by both their parents. As she leans over, Kaede’s knee touches Shuichi’s thigh, and his heart flutters.
“Shuichi?”
He looks up at Kaede, who is putting dividers into her binder.
“Yeah?”
“Are you nervous?”
Shuichi takes a moment to mull the question over in his head, thumbing the edges of his notebook. Tomorrow will be their first day of high school, and they’ve been spending the better half of Sunday afternoon preparing. He wonders, idly, if she knows that he’s relieved to have a new start.
He shrugs, nonchalant, “I guess so. It hasn’t sunk in completely yet.”
Kaede, on the other hand, just groans and flops onto her back, “Me too. But I’m scared that I’ll forget my classes or get lost…”
A tinge of anxiety seeps into her voice. Shuichi looks up at her, worry creating a crease in his brow, “Don’t be, I’m sure there are going to be people to help us. We’re new.”
Kaede doesn’t look entirely convinced, so Shuichi gives her a reassuring smile, “You can call me if you get lost.”
It’s ironic - usually, it’s Kaede assuring Shuichi that things are going to be okay. He’s always been anxious, from the day they met until now. Medications help, but they don’t fix everything. Despite that, somehow his words work, and Kaede smiles back, lopsided. She sits back up and sighs, chuckling, “If you say so, Shuichi! I’m glad we have at least some classes together.”
Shuichi hides his surprise by dipping his head in agreement, “Yeah, me too.”
There’s a pause, and then Kaede places her hand on his shoulder, “Hey, Shuichi? Thanks.”
Shuichi’s eyes flicker to the hand on his shoulder, and then back to Kaede’s face. He raises an eyebrow at her, “For what?”
“For everything. Just… thank you.” She says, her features soft and genuine.
Flowers threaten to fill his throat and choke him, but the smile never leaves his face.
“You’re welcome, Kaede.”
« ────── « ⋅ ❀ ⋅ » ────── »
When he wakes, the room is bright.
Too bright.
Shuichi tries to push himself up, but his arms don’t cooperate. Everything feels wrong, and he’s disorientated. His chest burns, and his throat feels raw. A deep ache radiates down his chest, dull yet feelable all the same. Shuichi’s eyes water in a mixture of pain and fear. His vision is muddled, vague shapes filtering in and out of sight. Someone is speaking to him, but he can’t discern what they’re saying.
“Shuichi!”
One voice cuts through the jumble. Shuichi squeezes his eyes shut, giving them time to clear, and then opens them. The light that had previously been above him is now blocked out by a dark mass. Shuichi feels wetness on his cheeks, and then mass is hugging him gently. Their embrace feels oddly familiar. Shuichi’s brows furrow, and he tries to speak.
“What… where am I? What’s happening?”
The words come out jumbled and strange, but the mass pulls away from him. A girl looks down at him, her violet eyes brimming with tears.
Kaede.
His memories come back in a rush. Kaede is saying something, but Shuichi doesn’t hear it.
The blood, the screams, the feeling of choking.
No.
His uncle, the paramedics, the mask.
No, no, no, no.
The fear.
He chokes back a sob, and is rewarded by a sharp sting of pain. His eyes leak tears that mingle with the wetness from before, rolling down his cheeks in solitary streams. Shuichi hates the way Kaede looks at him, with soft, doe eyes and a concerned frown.
“Shuichi, are you okay?”
No.
“Kaede… what’s…”
“You’re in the hospital, Shuichi. You had pneumonia. It was really bad, so they… they had to operate.”
He’s about to correct her when he remembers - she can’t know. Immediately, his energy leaves him. Relief floods through his veins. He expects to feel something when her face comes into focus and she squeezes his hand, but…
There’s nothing.
His heart jumps in fear, and he looks around, panicked. He feels sick.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Kaede rubs the back of his hand with her thumb, her skin warm and soft against his.
“Shuichi? You’re fine, remember? You’re at the hospital. Do you want your parents? They’re going to want to know you’re awake, or-”
He can’t think, and without warning, he feels like he’s being choked again, petals filling up his throat, his lungs, his stomach, his veins, his…
“Doctor, where’s the doctor?” Shuichi croaks, every syllable he utters burning like liquid fire in his throat.
Kaede sits up straight, releasing Shuichi’s hand. Her face looks increasingly worried, “Oh! The doctor, of course. I’ll find one for you, okay Shuichi?”
He nods, and Kaede darts away.
A thousand thoughts ricochet around in his head, but he can decipher none of them. He forces himself to breathe, attempting to fight through the panic.
It isn’t real, it isn’t real.
But no matter how many times he reassures himself, he can’t convince himself the flowers in the back of his throat are imaginary.
« ────── « ⋅ ❀ ⋅ » ────── »
Shuichi knows Kaede will never like him back.
He knows it the day he sees her on the playground standing next over the body of a boy nearly twice her size, a girl standing protectively beside her. As he gets closer, he realises she’s yelling something at the boy who’s on the ground, all her teeth bared in a vicious snarl.
Shuichi has never seen her so angry before.
She takes one step forward, and the boy’s eyes widen. He picks himself up, snot and blood dripping out of his nose, and runs away crying. Two other boys run with him, yelling for a teacher. Kaede merely turns to the girl. She has her brown hair tied up in matching pigtails, and one side of her face has a big, ugly bruise on it. Shuichi has seen her before - they were in class together, once. Upon looking at the girl, Kaede’s anger seems to wilt, but Shuichi isn’t blind. He can see it brimming just below her skin, hot and volatile.
Kaede approaches the girl and hugs her. The girl looks surprised for a moment, but then she leans forward, whispering something into Kaede’s ear. Immediately, Kaede’s face grows red, and she’s only capable of stuttering back an incoherent, muffled reply. The pair walk away together, Kaede grasping the girl’s hand in hers.
Shuichi’s stomach drops.