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Sometimes, Mitsuba wonders when it started.
When did she start staring at Shinoa during any resting time they had? When did she start to notice her small quirks, like the way she fiddles with her bow when she's nervous, or the pursing of her pink lips when she's lost in thought?
When did she start to notice the way she seemed to glow in the moonlight, the ethereal grace with which she carried herself?
When did the petals start to climb up Mitsuba's throat, delicate bouquets spilling from her lips at the sight of Shinoa's smile?
Mitsuba wishes for a chance to rip this plant out of her lungs, and embrace Shinoa with all the love and care she deserves. She wishes for her to turn around, for Shinoa to pull her eyes away from that boy for just a second. Mitsuba knows this is selfish, and yet she can't help but yearn.
It's killing her, she knows that. Every night when the others go to bed, she sneaks out to relieve herself of the flowers in her throat. It's getting worse, sometimes she can't bear to look at Shinoa out of fear that the petals will return.
She knows she should tell the others. They'll probably try to help her, they'll go out of their way to assist a dead weight like her, and she knows that they see her as nothing more than an inconvenience. She knows that Shinoa sees her as a liability, someone she cares for because she feels forced to. She's so good, too good, too sweet and admirable, and she wants nothing more than to have that sweetness directed at herself.
There is a part of her that hopes that isn't the case. There's a part of her that believes that Shinoa and the others care, that they love her, that they want her around. After all, Shinoa wouldn't tease her like this if she didn't care… right?
The moon is beautiful tonight. She quietly shuts the door behind her and steps outside, trying to breathe in the cool night air. She's spent all day pushing back the bile in her throat, hoping that she doesn't cough out her insides in front of her others. Now she can finally breathe easy in her solitude, now that they're all fast asleep.
"Micchan?"
Fuck. Shinoa must've woken up.
She turns to face the younger girl. Shinoa looks breathtaking here. Her eyes hold a certain sparkle, and her lilac hair blows softly in the nighttime breeze. She's an image of perfection and leadership, of kindness and openness and loveliness that Mitsuba can only dream of being.
"What do you need, Shinoa?"
"Ah, nothing at all, really," Shinoa glances up at Mitsuba with a slight smirk, "I was just wondering what you were sneaking out here for."
Mitsuba swallows thickly. The flowers are coming back.
"It's none of your business," she mutters, "go back to bed."
A small hum is all she gets for a response. Shinoa doesn't leave. In fact, as Mitsuba turns her head away, she can feel Shinoa staring back at her. Her chest begins to ache. She can feel the scratching of the stems as they climb up her airway.
"Y'know, Micchan, you seem pale," Shinoa comments, "is everything alright?"
"Leave me alone." Her throat tightens. It's becoming unbearable.
"Are you sure? I just want to make sure you're doing okay."
"..." Mitsuba finds it hard to say a word. She wonders if she can even open her mouth without spilling a whole garden at the other girl's feet.
"We've been worried about you, Micchan." A beat of silence. Then, "I've really wanted you back with us."
Mitsuba does not look back at her. If she did, if she allowed herself to turn back and see the look on her face, if she allowed herself the smallest glimmer of hope- she doesn't think she could handle it. She's never been deserving of that sympathy, and she feels as though she'll fall apart at the seams if there's the slightest trace of pity in her eyes. Don't they know she can handle this on her own? Mitsuba doesn't need to be saved, and even if Shinoa has no interest in her, she at least wants to be someone the other girl can be proud of.
A step. The creak of a door. The only response Shinoa gets is the chirping of the crickets in the cool nighttime air, as Mitsuba goes back inside. The door shuts with a soft thump.
And maybe, maybe if she had stayed a little longer, maybe if she had let herself believe and if she didn't feel like suffocating as the blossoms scraped up her throat-
Maybe she would have seen a white petal fall from Shinoa's lips, delicate and lonely like the girl who gave it life.
...
All's well that ends well. Mahiru was always uncomfortably good at bending the truth for her, telling her what was and wasn't real, promising only good things for her if she listened. In the wake of her death, perhaps Shinoa had learned to do it for herself in her stead.
She holds the petal close to her chest, like it could imbue that cold heart with warmth. In her head, there is already a boy who is certain to fit that role. Already she's on the path to being a normal girl, and she can't stand the wait.
Nothing happens, though. Her heart isn't satisfied by what her mind is offering. She can't help but turn back towards the door that Mitsuba left through earlier, and deep down, she aches at how distant her squad mate seems to be. Maybe what Shinoa really needs is a friend, a good friend, a close friend, a confidant as blunt and caring and good as the other girl. Normal girls have friends too, and she already loves Yuu plenty, so maybe… could that be the missing piece?
She bursts into a fit of coughs once again. The burn feels like a victory, and maybe she'll succumb the same way her sister did. She peers up at the night sky. The moon is beautiful tonight.