Chapter Text
prologue
pov: Overhaul coughing up flowers for you (literally)
HanaHaki Disease AU, pre-villain
“Welcome back, father. I had the chef prepare. . . oh.”
The sound of flat steps stopped the second you reached the genkan (entry area). Your eyes widened slightly in surprise at the sight of an unexpected guest, although quickly you managed to scramble the gap of silence into a smile and bow a head in greeting.
“I brought Chisaki to dinner today.” Your father, the yakuza boss exclaimed as he approached you with flowers in his weathered hand.
Unhurriedly, you walked up to the older man, your face brightening at the sight of the little present. “Ha, pity flowers for me ‘cause nee-san’s getting courted?” You scoffed playfully. “The shiba-sakura from Mt. Fuji. Wasting money yet again. . . They’re very pretty though. Thank you.” With a light laugh you cradled the flowers close to your chest; you had nearly forgotten the guest for a second before you glanced back towards the brown haired teen by the doorway. “Welcome Chisaki.”
It was the final nudge Chisaki needed for his manners to kick in. He sent you a slight nod, his feet still glued to the spot as he spoke. “Long time no see.”
No one knew why Pops stepped up and took you in, paying your mom a hefty sum to keep you and give you to him. It was no secret in the gang, you embraced it rather than deny it. This way, the real daughter, your nee-san wouldn’t feel threatened of your claim to the fortune. Unlikely. You’re just glad you’re cared for.
But just because you and Chisaki had your circumstances a bit similar to each other, doesn’t mean he wants to be buddies with you. So when he hears your voice just outside his room, like an insect buzzing around his head: quiet, persistent and profoundly irksome. It scratches at him.
Chisaki growls in displeasure and turns his attention to it. His gloved fingers curl, barely holding himself from using his quirk to disassemble your skin, muscles, your bones. No, no. Boss’s daughter.
He listens for a moment, to your chatter, before letting out a hiss of contempt. You’re actually talking about the weather—
“What— are—you—doing,” he seethes, in the voice that has decimated more than one brave hero, pulling the guest room door open to your face offering him a sheepish look. “— aside from pissing me off.”
It’s rather unfair that you have already seen his bare face once before; you recover quickly from the shock, and merely say: “I thought you could use the company. Father says you’re lonely because Todo gang disbanded.”
His nostrils flare. Pops. He should have guessed boss is to blame for this. Stubborn. Old. Senile. Stubborn bastard. Chisaki was sure his plan would work if only the old man would just take up his suggestions. What use is honor and chivalry to a yakuza organization anyway? What good is it when the group is being weeded out by the damn heroes?
“Stop bothering me or I’ll use my quirk on you.” He gritted his teeth, barely keeping his snarl at your pretty face.
You merely smile indulgently, sure of your safety as you cast a glance at a picture on a table in his room behind him. It was a picture of your father and Chisaki as a child.
“Wipe that presumptuous smirk off your face. When the old man finally croaks, I can do whatever I want with you then.”
Your smile vanishes, looking contrite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
He’s sure you really didn’t. He decides to let you squirm for a bit while you try to talk yourself out of his threat, and then grant mercy in exchange for a future favor (convince boss to follow through his plan) and withdraw.
“Whatever you want with me. . . is that a promise?”
Ah, there it is. You saying things that needled at him. It leaves him perplexed. Frustration roil within him. You have managed to stain his mood despite zero physical contact. And for that, he hates you. He scrunches up his nose in response. “You disgust me.”
Your face lit up as you laughed, not the least bit offended. Not when this is the first time you managed to unnerve Chisaki since childhood. You looked annoying. You looked infuriating. You didn’t look good smiling at him like that at all.
He slammed the door shut in your face.
There’s a small pin-prick of a needle in his chest, a tiny shoot of pain that sparks and before he could help it, he coughs.
A lavender colored petal springs out of his mouth and it floats gently, landing on the wooden parquet floor.
A shiba-sakura to be exact.
What the fuck?