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The door clicks and swings open to the dark and lonely apartment. Ryumi kicks off her shoes and steps inside, locking the door behind her.
Her parents are out still, and probably will be for several more hours. A heavy silence suffocates the space.
As she walks to her room to toss her school bag down, she sees the notice for Parents' Day still lying on the kitchen table amidst the clutter, and sighs.
This year was supposed to be the one. After so many grades had gone by with all her classmates having their moms or dads visiting, and her the only one alone, after so many years of whispered rumors and targeted bullying suggesting that she's actually an orphan, this was supposed to be the year.
But of course, as always, something gets in the way.
This morning as they were all getting ready, Ryumi positively buzzing with excitement, the dispatch radio had hummed to life and her heart had collapsed into her stomach.
Over the course of a couple minutes of brief hushed back and forths, she gathered that there had been a train derailment in a neighboring city, and her parents were both being called in to help with the rescue and recovery efforts. It would be an all-day operation, naturally, because of the scale of the incident.
Apologies were offered and tight hugs were given, and Ryumi was off to school on Parents' Day... alone, as usual.
She coughs into her arm as she walks to the kitchen. Something's tickling the back of her throat.
Probably just need water.
She fetches a glass from the cupboard, an old plastic one she's always liked, and fills it with water from the tap. She takes a few sips and starts making dinner for herself.
While scrambling some eggs into a stir fry, Ryumi's lips tighten into a frown. She'd been so excited that morning, the week leading up to it... And then even as she tried to take pride in the fact that her parents were out there saving lives, she could feel the mocking stares of her classmates.
"They don't care about you."
She knows that's not true. Her parents love her! Of course they do.
They're just busy with work. They're making sure she can have a good life. It's not like they have a lot of money, and even this small apartment is pretty expensive with it being so near to Tokyo.
Ryumi coughs again, harder this time. The spasms wrack her whole body, and she has to turn and step away from the stove entirely as she feels like she's choking.
When it finally stops, she spits out something into the sink.
It's... a flower petal?
She stares at it, a strange anxiety creeping up through her spine, only dismissed as she fears burning her food.
By the time she's finished eating and drops the dishes off, she's almost convinced herself she imagined the whole thing, but then... There's the petal, still lying on the corner of the sink where she'd normally put the dishes.
She frowns at it, setting the dishes aside and pulling out her phone. She snaps a picture of the petal to look into later, and continues with her routine, the petal getting washed away with soap and food residue into the drain.
With dishes complete, it's time to settle in for homework. She opens up her books and notebooks on the living room floor and gets started - though the strange flower petal lingers at the back of her mind.
As the sun sets it throws heart shaped shadows from the garden of bleeding hearts - her mother's favorite flower - clustered by the window.
Ryumi takes a moment to stretch and reposition, spreading her wings and looking anxiously toward the door. She doesn't know why - obviously they won't be back yet, not for a while. A couple hours at least... Maybe later.
She's about to dive back into the hellish world of middle school math when that tickle emerges in the back of her throat again. She coughs and hacks, almost feeling as if there's something tearing deep inside her.
In the end, another clump of flower petals is lying in her hand as she takes ragged but careful breaths, trying not to irritate her throat into another coughing spell.
These ones are different. She grabs her phone and snaps another picture before tossing them in the trash.
Walking back, she looks at the waiting math homework on the floor, her hands shaking. Something is wrong. Very wrong. Normally she'd ask her father, but who knows when he'll be home...
Her eyes slowly shift to the bookshelves on the living room wall. While one is stuffed with manga - her mother's collection - the other is all medical textbooks and references manuals.
She grabs a handful of them and shoves the math to the side, spreading her father's books out instead. It takes a while of leafing through the different ones, but eventually she finds her answer.
Hanahaki.
She's vaguely heard of the disease, and though she knew it was real, it's mostly something she's seen as a plot point in shows or books. She's never met anyone with an actual case, never even heard it mentioned in passing that so-and-so had the illness. But she still knows a bit.
It's just... she's not in love with anyone. She's quite sure of that. She's never even really had a crush - so few people in her neighborhood even bother to treat mutants like herself as human. It's hard to make friends, let alone anything more.. and the hanahaki she's familiar with is a lover's disease.
Most of another hour flies by in research: identifying the flower petals so far as laurestine, cinquefoil, and belladonna; and slowly she comes to understand the complexities of the condition.
She's still confused though. Even after learning that, though rare, hanahaki can manifest from more platonic loves, and that seems to be what the flower types she's seeing suggest...
Her parents love her. She knows they do.
Sure, they're not able to spend as much time together as she wants. And days like today are... rough.
But times when she's gotten to go flying with her mom, the training she helped her with to protect herself from the bullies at school, even when she's gone out to help move supplies with them at disaster sites... They're all fond memories. She loves her parents, they love her.
There's nothing more comforting in the world than her mother's hugs, with her huge wings wrapped all around. Of course she loves her. Of course.
If they could be around more, they would. She knows that.
As the hour grows ever later, she reluctantly packs away the medical texts as well as her homework. A few more petals come up - pink camellia and carnation this time.
Getting ready for bed, a deep guilt blends into the ache of anxiety inside her. It's true she wishes her parents were around more. She can't deny that.
Is that wrong?
People would die without them responding to the train crash. Is it selfish to want to be a family like her classmates have? What if it might cost other people their lives?
She pulls the blankets tighter around herself and hugs one of her plushies tight to her chest. She can't stop shivering.
Maybe this is a punishment for her selfishness.
Probably...
Tears well up in her eyes, but she buries her face in the pillow.
She resolves to hide this condition in the same way. To try not to want more than is reasonable. Maybe then it will go away...
Besides, she wouldn't want her parents to feel responsible for this. They're trying, after all. What more could they do?
And so, the months go by.
Ryumi has gotten quite good at holding back the coughing, enough to hide the most obvious signs and avoid raising suspicion. Ironically, her parents being so busy all the time makes it easier. She only has to struggle through a handful of hours most days.
Through that time she's been diligently and secretly recording each new flower type. Marigold, willow, and one she didn't even need to look up - bleeding hearts. The last one was particularly distressing, seeing the familiar delicate bloom that's been a mainstay of the living room for as far back as she can remember lying in her palm, spattered in real blood.
It's gotten tougher to breathe since then, but she's still managing.
Tonight her parents are getting ready to go out for a belated anniversary dinner. She's staying home to study for an upcoming exam, but they'll bring her something home.
Ryumi smiles as she stands at the door waving to them, holding back a cough as the familiar tickle rises in her throat once again. She just has to hold on a little longer now, until the door closes and they're out of earshot.
When she's finally free to give in, the hacking and tearing is worse than ever. In her head she can imagine the roots ripping away bits of her throat as she tries desperately to expel the flower from her airway.
She falls to her knees, gasping for breath.
Please...
She chokes and coughs and spits, desperation setting in.
And finally, something lands on the tile.
A bright red spider lily.
She doesn't need to look that one up either. She closes her eyes and collapses on her side, breaths coming in rough and ragged and slow.
She holds that image of her parents' grinning faces in her mind, the feel of her mother's wings around her back, the memory of what might be their last goodbye.