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Death by Hanahaki is slow and painful. It takes months for the flowers to take root in a victim's lungs. Even longer for petals to form, to grow enough that they spill out and warn the victim of their impending doom. Some live for years while the disease takes root in their chest, vines wrapping around their heart as they wither away.
That's what Jin heard, anyway. That it was slow. Hanahaki was supposed to be a slow disease. It wasn't something he concerned himself with. He always knew how he'd die, and it wouldn't be to a disease of cowards too scared to voice their feelings. His death will be on the battlefield, giving his life to the person capable of defeating him.
But here he is, in the bed of his enemy, blood stained petals resting in his hand as pain grows in his chest.
That's not how it's supposed to work. It's supposed to take months, but it hasn't even been days. It's been hours since Jin woke in an unfamiliar room. Every minute since his eyes focused on Ryo's face, the pain has grown. The unfamiliar, uncomfortable kindness made his heart ache, and his lungs burn with every breath. Every gentle touch as Ryo cared for his wounds made his chest tight and his eyes blur. It was all he could do to stay still as Ryo's hand slipped under his shirt, adjusting his dressings. There was something crawling up his throat, cutting off his words and threatening to take his very breath away.
It doesn't click, doesn't come together until Ryo walks out the door and Jin gives into the itch in his throat and coughs. He's never seen Hanahaki petals before, let alone tasted them, but the moment they touch his tongue he knows. Metal and dirt and a vaguely sweet flavor mix as he spits them out on his palm.
As he stares at the white petals stained red with blood, the pain in his chest comes into focus. It's not random pain, he can feel the vines, filling his chest, ripping apart his organs as they grow more and more.
It's not supposed to be like this. He's supposed to get more time.
Ryo's returns with a smile and a bowl of food. It looks perfect, and Jin's sure it'd smell heavenly if he could detect any smell past the sweet, bloody scent coating his tongue and filling his nose.
Ryo smiles as he offers it, and another vine sprouts so quickly it feels like a knife going through Jin's heart. Petals threaten to spill out of his mouth, but he swallows them down. He keeps his mouth firmly shut as he knocks the food away. He can't risk Ryo seeing what's happening to him.
His anger is met with even more kindness. Ryo is frustrated, offended, that his offering, a show both of kindness and skill in cooking, was rejected. But he doesn't let the frustration show for more than a moment before putting on a smile.
The petals are still curled in Jin's palm, hidden from view as Ryo turns to clean up the mess.
"Not hungry?" Ryo asks as he sweeps the rice off the carpet. "Are you nauseous? In pain?"
Jin's teeth grind together. The idea of admitting to weakness or pain turns his stomach. The alternative, opening his mouth and letting the petals show, turns it much worse.
A terse nod is all he can manage, but it's enough that Ryo relaxes.
"I can get medicine for that," Ryo says. His smile is soft and warm as he places the bowl on the table next to Jin. "I need to go to work first, but I get my paycheck today, and it should be enough to get what you need."
A cough bubbles in Jin's throat. He keeps his lips sealed as a dry heavy lifts a mouthful of petals into his mouth. It's unnecessary. He doesn't need medicine. There's no medicine on earth that'll save him now.
Ryo's food is delicious. Even past the iron of blood and the mockingly sweet petals, it's incredible. Every bite hurts as Jin's esophagus strains against the thick tendrils twined around it, but the pain is worth it.
Ryo smiles as he watches Jin. There's no attempt to hide the pride in his face, but no arrogance either. He's a man that knows he's at the top of his game, something that Jin respects.
Afterwards, Ryo takes the empty plate from his hands and their fingers brush. A stab of pain makes Jin’s stomach heave. His body twitches and if he hadn’t already relinquished the plate, it would have crashed to the floor.
Ryo suggests they go out. It’ll be good for him, to see the sun. Jin shakes his head, but Ryo doesn’t listen. He’s already preparing a wheelchair.
He doesn’t know. Ryo has no idea how fast Gorma heal. He doesn't question why Jin can barely walk across the room, even though his injuries are minor. His weakness isn't because of any specific injury, it's the monstrous plant crushing his ribs and poisoning each breath.
As Ryo helps him into the chair and takes him out, the plant grows, twisting around Jin’s ribs. The sun is good for the plant. With every laugh and warm smile Ryo sends in Jin's direction, it grows. Jin spends far too much time looking for places to spit out the bloody petals.
Hanahaki was supposed to be slow. Less than a day and he's already on the verge of death. It has to be the Gorma. Maybe it's a consequence of abandoning his humanity in pursuit of a challenge. Maybe it's a trap set to keep him from getting too far. It makes more sense than him developing such strong feelings so quickly.
Not that he can deny there are some feelings. Ryo is kind and gentle. Both a better warrior than Jin and a better human. It's not just that he's kind. Anyone can be kind to children, to strangers. Ryo knows Jin, knows what sort of person Jin is, and still he shows kindness. If someone like Ryo could see good in him, maybe Jin could see good in himself.
Except he can't. He's dying. The plant in his chest will kill him before the week is up. Maybe before the day is up.
Jin won't let himself die like that. He's always known he'll die in battle. Better to fall to a worthy opponent than to wither and collapse, defeated by your own body.
There's another option that blooms in his mind as they walk. Hanahaki is reversible. He could admit his feelings and the plant would retreat. He doesn't need to stick around after it. All he had to do was spit out the words the same way he's been spitting out the petals.
The option hurts worse than the vines in his chest. Opening up like that only to walk away, he couldn't do that any more than he could turn down an opportunity to fight a master. It would hurt him and it would hurt Ryo.
There's no happy ending for them, Jin realizes. Even if he admits his feelings, Zydos is coming for him. Zydos will drag him back, turn him into a puppet again. There's only one solution. He needs to die. He needs to die before the flower blooms in his mouth, before Ryo finds out.
And there’s only one person strong enough to kill him.
So he swallows the blood and petals in his mouth and faces the one and only man strong enough to defeat him. He points to his heart and explains his weakness. He tells Ryo how to break through the armor the Gorma gave him.
Ryo doesn't understand, Jin wasn't expecting him to. The string of questions that follow his answer can't be answered because Jin chokes on the flowers crawling up his throat. He pulls himself from the chair, and runs from the questions, hoping to get far enough away that he can cough up the petals without being seen.
Ryo grabs him, holds him when Jin's legs give out. Jin swallows, trying to force the plant back down his throat, but it doesn't work. Thorns tear into his throat as he begs Ryo to remember his instructions. Ryo's arms tighten around him, firm and inviting. He doesn't understand, and he never will.
Jin lashes out at Ryo, knocking the man away. He won't die like that, withering in the arms of another man. He'll die on the battlefield. He’ll die on this battlefield, by his own choice.