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The crash of the waves tangled at the edges of Nobunaga’s mind, the soothing sound attempting to pull her down into an ocean of sleep. Sitting here on the beach, the air of peace and quiet ever present, Nobunaga felt a sense of calm that had eluded her over the past few months. There had been little time for rest between the Camelot Lostbelt and Tunguska Sanctuary. Now, however, with the chaos that always accompanied the summer, she had been able to slip away, using the cover of her summer saint graph to sneak into Skadi’s arctic world.
Behind her, she heard a giggling followed by a splash of water tossed across her back. Pushing up from her reclined position, Nobunaga looked up at a smug Okita.
“Sorry!” Okita stuck out her tongue at the now thoroughly wet archer.
Looking up at her assailant Nobunaga took a moment to appreciate the look of contented playfulness etched across the saber's face. It was uncommon, and not the least bit gratifying to know that she had put it there. However, there were crimes to be punished for. So it was that the two spent the rest of their time engaged in a mock war on the beach, Nobunaga ignoring the slight tickle at the back of her throat.
-
The tickle continued though, and as days turned to weeks, Nobunaga began to worry. Especially so when, after a particularly nice afternoon spent with Okita and their friends, the archer found herself ducking into a bathroom to empty her guts.
“What the fuck?”
In her hand surrounded by bile, mucus, and small specks of blood lay a single cherry blossom petal.
-
“No seriously, what the fuck?”
Da Vinci sighed, “I said it’s Hanahaki disease.”
“I heard you the first time!” the archer threw her hands up. “Isn’t that just something some fucker made up?”
Da Vinci simply cocked an eyebrow, before gesturing at the Shadow Border and the servants milling around.
“Okay, fair point but even so, don’t you have to, like, be in love with somebody and have them not love you back? I’m not in love with anyone.”
At this da Vinci snorted, earning her a glare from Nobunaga. Composing herself, da Vinci fixed the archer with an amused gaze.
“Well, I suppose you have some thinking to do.”
-
And think the archer did. Nobunaga spent the next week pondering over who had the audacity to put her in the position she was in. After all, there was no shortage of beautiful men and women in Chaldea, some who even had the charm skill. And for a woman such as herself, there was no way that she would fall in love with anyone of her own free will.
So, with this in mind, Nobunaga went out of her way to track down and talk to every single servant who could have charmed her. Ranmaru was the most obvious candidate, but as Nobunaga talked to one of her oldest friends, the only feeling she felt was care for her little sister. This was much the same for many of the other servants. From Kama to Chevalier d’Eon, the archer felt nothing that she would associate with romance. No pounding heart, narrowing world, or nervous palms.
As she turned away from a perplexed young Alexander, ready to march back to da Vinci and give the rider a piece of her mind, a weight glommed onto her back causing the archer to stumble from the surprise attack.
“Nooobuuu,” came a familiar voice, the volume not at all regulated to protect her innocent ears. “Where have you been all day? I’ve been so boredddddd!”
“Well, maybe I had more important things to do than keeping you entertained.”
“Pfft, nothing is going on. What could you possibly be doing that is so important?”
“Why you!”
And with a swift turn, the chase was on.
-
Later as the faint light of the television flickered, some forgettable action film playing, Nobunaga found herself looking down at Okita, stroking her fingers through the sleeping saber’s hair. She wondered how Okita kept it so soft. It’s not like they had showers for the servants or any sort of hair product that was readily available. And the light pink of her hair was so endearing, perfectly fitting the moniker of Sakura Saber.
Fuck.
All of a sudden, what da Vinci had been hinting at suddenly made sense. Oda Nobunaga was head over heels in love with Okita Souji. Even as her heart lifted with the knowledge, Nobunaga felt her stomach churn with another unavoidable truth. Hanahaki only afflicted those in unrequited love.
-
As upsetting as that thought was, the archer was undeterred. She would woo Okita so hard, the saber wouldn’t know what hit her! Even with this silly disease clogging up her lungs. She was a servant after all, so even if this killed her she would just come back. Yep, everything was going to be fine!
-
“Nobunaga, we need to talk.”
“Spare me whatever lecture you have Vinci, I already figured out I’m in love with Souji. Whoop-de-fucking-do. Not like I can do anything about it.”
Da Vinci sighed. “You are going to die.”
“Yeah, but then you guys will summon me back and I’ll be fine.”
“Listen,” the urgency in da Vinci’s voice finally caught the archer’s attention. “If you let this run its course you are going to be erased from the throne of heroes.”
“What?”
“Whatever you have is not exactly Hanahaki. It’s something borrowing the disease’s tales and beliefs.”
“So?”
“It made use of those beliefs to get to your spirit origin and is slowly crushing it. You will die if it gets large enough.”
“Wait,” the archer’s head was reeling. “I won’t come back?”
Da Vinci just shook her head. “It needs to be removed. Thankfully we should be able to. The only issue is it is already tangled up with part of your spirit origin. We would have to remove that part as well.”
“Which part is it?”
“I think it’s the part of you that is in love with Okita.”
-
The room was really dark without the lights on, but that was what Nobunaga needed. She was going to die and she had no idea what to do.
She couldn’t tell Okita, obviously. If she did end up dying, then the guilt would just eat the saber alive. No, Nobunaga would not taint Okita’s second chance at life like that.
The second option, and by far the most logical, was to have it removed. There were so many questions about the process though. Would she still be able to love Souji afterward? Even as a friend? Would she even remember the saber afterward?
Would the life she would have, devoid of all this love bursting out of her even be worth living?
Pressing her hands to her eyes, the archer grits her teeth in sadness, frustration, and anger.
She was going to die.
Looking around the room, she saw a piece of paper. Eyes widening, Nobunaga quickly grabbed the paper and began to write.
Dearest Blossom,
I think I am going to die soon. Please don’t be sad if I do, and please never think it was your fault. I want you to live so freely and openly. Don’t let the memory of this old troublemaker drag you down. I am not worth your grief.
Yours Always
Nobunaga sighed, placing the pen down. The emotions were out now, placed upon a page, and with their departure, a certain resignation fell upon the archer’s shoulders.
She was going to die.
-
Nobunaga had never really been in love before, too focused on conquest and unification. It really sucked.
The vines in her throat did not help.
She found herself reduced to a stuttering mess whenever someone so much as mentioned the saber. Even worse, was when she was actually around Okita. One particularly bad incident had occurred just the other day in the cafeteria.
“Who let Boudicca cook again?” the despondent saber wailed, pushing pieces of blackened food around her plate.
“Oh, it’s not that bad!” Nobunaga tried to eat a piece but found she could not even puncture the thick hide of the meat? … fruit? …potato?
“See even you can’t eat it!”
“No, seriously it’s not that bad!” Nobunaga desperately cast about for something to make this better. “Umm… Look you can draw with it!”
So saying the archer very clumsily drew a smiley face on the table between them. Looking back and forth between the drawing and Nobunaga’s smug smile, Okita suddenly burst into laughter.
“Nobu… you…” Okita managed.
But the archer didn’t join in. Instead, she found herself transfixed by the girl in front of her, almost ignoring the tickle at the back of her throat.
Almost.
As she lay crouched over the rim of the toilet, Sakura petals and blood stain the porcelain, Nobunaga was struck by a devastating thought.
One of these days, she was going to hear Okita’s laugh for the last time.
-
Dearest Blossom,
I don’t know if I like being in love very much. I like being in love with you very much, but it sucks a lot you know? I try not to be jealous but I saw you smile at someone that wasn’t me yesterday, and I kept throwing up flowers for nearly an hour.
I still am not going to get the surgery. As much as I hate being in love, I can’t give up on loving you. To think that I might wake up one day and not know how precious your smile is?
I can think of nothing worse.
Yours Always
-
Some days the vines were lighter. Today, for example, had been good. Nobunaga, Okita, Hijikata, Ranmaru, and some of their other friends had gone back to the beach to spend the day there.
Nobunaga had been able to keep the flowers down and just enjoy the day with her friends. Even when Okita had had to leave early from her weaker constitution, her mood had only dampened for an hour. The archer had wanted to go with the saber, but Okita had insisted Nobunaga stay and have fun. Which she eventually did.
Still, Nobunaga wanted to make sure that Souji was alright. Leaving their friends at the beach, Nobunaga made a quick stop by her room, before heading…
Why was her door open?
Cautiously, the archer made her way to the door, preparing to strike, and threw the door open to …
Okita was sitting on the floor, Nobunaga’s letters covering her lap, tears in her eyes. Wide eyes focused on the archer in the doorway.
“Nobu?”
The archer went stiff.
“Do you have hanahaki?”
A quick nod.
“Are you dying…”
Nobunaga felt her heart pound, and blood rushed to her ears. She knew what was coming, a rejection or some placation about being friends. Nobunaga just hoped that she would have the strength to not die immediately, to gracefully accept and move Okita out of her room. No need to cause the samurai more distress.
“…because you’re in love with Ranmaru?”
-
Dearest Blossom,
I am always a bit dramatic, aren’t I? I find out I’m in love with you and the first thing I do is go and die. Never could do things in halves. When I figured it out I was kind of happy you know? I was going to woo you and take you on dates and shit. But now I’m dying and I am so sorry. I’m sorry somewhat for you, but selfishly I am mostly sorry for me.
I’m sorry I won’t be the one to give you the gentle love you deserve.
Yours Always
-
The week after Souji’s discovery had been … rough. The saber had spent most of her time trying to convince Nobunaga to have the surgery. The archer guessed that da Vinci had gotten a hold of her and persuaded the saber. After a particularly bad fight, Okita had left it alone, but Nobunaga could see in her eyes the desire to bring up the surgery whenever they spent time together.
That was the other thing. Since finding out Souji had not left Nobunaga’s side.
To say it was a special kind of torture really undercut the amount of stress and joy that the archer was being subjected to.
The sheer proximity she was experiencing from being near to the saber meant her visits to the restroom were more frequent and longer. These days she could barely keep anything she ate down. When she ran to the bathroom though, now there was a gentle hand on her back comforting her as she puked up blood and flowers.
The irony of their reversed positions was not lost on Nobunaga. She never dwelled on these thoughts long though. When she did there was always the small, terrible part of her that wondered if she’d ever be able to comfort Souji in the same way again.
-
Dearest Blossom,
I am going to die soon. I can feel it. I’m not scared of dying, I mean I’ve done it once already so no big deal, right? I’m terrified you’ll forget me though. I’m so so scared of that. Please don’t? I know I told you to just live your life and forget all about me. I take it back.
I’m going to burn this letter. You found the others already, and I don’t think I can take another scare like that. So, while it doesn’t matter.
I love you Okita Souji. So fucking much.
Yours Always,
Oda Nobunaga
-
It was hard to get out of bed these days. The vines around her very being cracked and groaned when she moved. Breathing was … difficult. Still, every day she stood up and forged ahead into the morning plastering a smile on her lips and a laugh in her lungs.
The hardest part was always the pitying eyes that followed her around the Shadow Border.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Nobunaga grumbled as she sat down next to Hijikata.
“Like what?”
Nobunaga shot him a glare which seemed to deter the berserker for the moment. The silence stretched between the two.
“Where’s Okita?”
Hijikata shot a glance at the archer, then at the orphaned plate Okita had abandoned moments before, a quick calculation passing across his eyes. Slowly, he inclined his head towards the bathroom.
“Oh. Is she?”
“Mhmm.”
Nobunaga burst into the bathroom, eyes searching for the kneeling form of the saber. There she was, hunched over the toilet coughing and puking. Nobu’s heart clenched briefly before she rushed over to lay a comforting hand on the saber’s shoulder.
“It’s okay Souji. I’ve got you.”
But Okita flinched away from the hand, swining around to lay wide eyes on the kneeling archer. Nobunaga would have been offended at the obvious terror could she not see, floating in a pool of muck, blood stained quince flowers.
“Wait, are you… ?”
Okita averted her eyes.
“Okita, you’re… “ Nobunaga felt the vines constrict at the back of her throat, the thought of Okita in love with someone else eating at her consciousness. There was no time for that though. “We need to get you to da Vinci. Get this pulled out of you. Come on.”
Nobunaga reached toward the saber, grabbing at her arm. But even as she pulled, the haori in her fingers did not budge.
“No.”
“What do you mean no, Souji? You could die!” Nobunaga felt anger growing inside her. How dare Okita just throw away her life like this?
“Like you are going to?” Okita burst out. Her eyes met the archers for a moment, a flash of anger and grief crossing her expression. “Just leave it alone.”
“I’m not going to leave it alone! You have everything you might want here! A second chance, friends, a chance to fight again! And you want to throw that away for some jackass who doesn’t love you!”
“Of course not!” They found themselves face to face, eyes locked and breath intermingling. At Okita’s explosion though, the saber seemed to lose all the air in her. Collapsing to the floor again, the saber focused on the cold tile of the toilet.
“I…” Okita peeked at the archer from the corner of her eye but quickly glanced away. “I know you want me to live. That’s the one thing you have always focused on in our friendship. And I am going to! I promise!”
The archer took a breath to steady herself, her fears abated for the moment.”
“But I…”Okita began to pick at the nonexistent loose threads of her haori. “I love you Nobu.”
Wait, was Okita saying what Nobunaga thought she was?
“And I know you…don’t love me. You have Ranmaru or whoever it is that is clogging your lungs and making you die your grand romantic death. But I want to love you while you're here. Even if you don’t love me. So please don’t make me lose you early. Please.”
Silence settled in the stall before the archer collapsed on the floor next to the saber.
“Okita. You are so dumb.”
“Hey!” You don’t have to be mean! I'm just being honest.”
“What kind of flowers am I throwing up?”
“Sakura blossoms. What does that have to do…”
“And what is your nickname?” Nobunaga interrupted.
“Sakura saber. But again, what does that have to do with…”
The moment of realization on Okita’s face drew a small smile across Nobunaga’s.
“So you?”
Nobunaga just nodded, biting her lips slightly to hold her laugh in.
“Wait, that means…”
The archer nodded again her smile threatening to crack her face in half. Okita, seeing the smug smile plastered across the other girl’s face decided that there were better things to be doing than getting teased and lunged at Nobunaga, pushing their lips together. The momentum toppled the pair to the floor, but they didn’t mind. As they traded gentle kisses and affirmations of love, the flowers in their lung withered away to dust.