Chapter Text
It started small. A sharp pain in your chest would hit you out of nowhere. Usually it struck when you were fighting or running. You’d need a moment to catch your breath.
Congestion clogged your throat and lungs. It would get so terrible that you could only cough to ease the pain. And it persisted, loop after loop you’d hide the pain as long as to not worry your family over this.
Speaking of your family.
The clocktower grows quiet. All eyes are on Mirabelle as she addresses the group, giving her usual speech in this scene. You almost forgot your line.
“We’ll stay with you, Mira.”
The timing is off, but no one notices.
“Oh… Oh thank you!” Her smile lights up the room. Her, Isa, and Bonnie hug. Odile stands off to the side, sighing at their antics.
Your arms itch.
It’s a form of love, isn’t it? To hold someone close, to cherish them? So why don’t they give you that same love.
You only paid attention to it recently. It was on one of the trips through the garden room. The rows of plants make it impossible to pass through without stepping on someone’s toes.
They would still give you a wide berth. One time you accidentally bumped into Odile, she mentioned something about an aversion to touch.
There must be something wrong with you. Craving affection, and yet you push everyone away.
The others break off from their hug and take their seats once more. The clocktower fills with the air of chatter. It all blends together into static.
You poke your food with a fork, your appetite fading away. The thoughts dig deep into your brain.
Poor Siffrin. So fragile that he needs instructions. You even go so far as to repeat your friend quests if only to gain that affection you desperately crave.
It’s disgusting. You’re disgusting.
You’re greedy, manipulative. A parasite that drains all the life out of its victims. You’re only killing your friends. Slowly with each loop.
A sharp pain stabs through your chest, snapping you out of your thoughts. Thousands of needles dig into your lungs, burning themselves deep. It hurts to breathe.
The taste of copper clings to the back of your throat. Something’s stuck in there.
“Are you ok?” Mirabelle asks, eyes wide with concern.
You swallow hard, but the lump in your throat won’t go away. “I’m fine.” A fake smile adorns your face.
You’re exhausted. Even if you don’t sleep when you’re in the clocktower, you welcome the rest it brings. You close your eye. Let your breathing even out.
Thoughts race in your mind. You don’t pay them any attention.
“Hey... hey Sif. Siffrin. Siffarooni.”
You peek an eye open. How could you forget this part?
Every time it’s the same. He says he’ll tell you the secret after you beat the King, but every time something interrupts him.
You’ve been manipulating the scene so it’s perfect. Maybe this time. Maybe the next loop. It has to happen eventually.
He keeps whispering your name, but you’re exhausted. You close your eyes once more.
Isa hums under his breath.
“...Already asleep, huh? Oh well. Then maybe... It would be fine if I... Said it now...”
Breath hitches in your throat. Will he?
“ ...No, no, that's not cool. I'll tell them tomorrow, when we've beaten the King.”
You want to scream in your pillow.
“You really have to, Isabeau... You crabbing coward... Goodnight, Sif.”
Goodnight. The words hang on the tip of your tongue. You turn to face away from him. Eyes squeeze shut, tears threaten to spill. You clutch the sheets.
Why can’t he just say it? Is it the same reason the others won’t hug you?
Disgusting, manipulative. You truly are vile.
That sharp pain hits your chest again. You gasp for air and cough. Something is stuck in your throat. A few more coughs and it dislodges itself.
Isa shifts next to you. “Are you ok, Sif?”
You’re too startled by what you coughed up to notice. He puts a careful hand on your shoulder. You jump.
“Eep! Sorry!” He removes the hand. The spot where it was itches, craving more. You want to say something, but you swallow the words.
“You aren’t getting sick, Siffrin?” Odile’s sharp voice.
“Yeah! You were acting weird at dinner today!” Bonnie shouts.
Their eyes bore into you, judging. You swallow hard. “I’m fine! Just something stuck in my throat.”
The silence hangs in the room. It suffocates you. They don’t believe you, but it doesn’t matter.
In the pale light of the moon, you glance back at what you coughed up.
A wad of bright petals sits on the pillow in front of you.
Your journey through the house isn’t easy.
You’re far more exhausted than any previous loop. Most fights end with you leaning against a wall trying to catch your breath. You fall behind in line, directing the others on where to go from the back.
At this point it'd be easier to end this loop, but you still need to find any information on wishcraft. There haven’t been any more petals since you entered the house. You push through this strange illness just a little longer.
You lead your family into the locked storage room. At the back of the room there’s a bookshelf. One of these books was in your language. If it’s on wish craft… then…
Oh you hadn’t been paying attention to others.
Bonnie wanders over to the dictionary sitting on the table. “Taciturn… what does ‘taciturn’ mean?”
This conversation again… you tune out most of it, only paying attention again to speak your lines.
Taciturn: reserved or uncommunicative in speech; saying little.
Why don’t you talk more? At first you thought it was because you didn’t have much to say. It was always easier to let other people do the talking and chime in when need be.
But now, you’re just tired of repeating the same thing over and over. You know all the lines. All the cues.
Nothing surprises you anymore. So why bother?
Not that roots crawling up your throat will let you say more than a few sentences.
Oh you almost missed your line.
“I just don’t have much to say.”
Odile crosses her arms, eyebrow raised. “Hm, is that the real reason?”
You shift away from her gaze. “Well… it’s also nice to hear you guys talk.”
Mirabelle’s eyes light up as you say that. “Oh Siffrin, that’s such a lovely thing to say.”
Your cheeks warm up. A small sad smile grows on your face. Repeating the same thing over and over. Your heart aches at the thought.
It gives you an advantage, doesn’t it? You always know the right thing to say now.
Mirabelle smiles, clapping her hands together. “It feels like we tamed a wild animal, doesn't it?”
You’re only a fraud. You keep repeating these situations. Over and over until you get it perfect.
They don’t love you. They only love the idea of you. The person who always makes them laugh. The person who always knows what to say and do in any situation.
You’re only manipulating them.
If they knew who you truly are, oh they’d leave you in a heartbeat.
Odile laughs. “Perfect analogy.”
You are terrible, vile. You don’t deserve their love.
“Maybe soon we'll even be able to pet them.” Odile says with a smirk.
Bonnie chuckles. “Catfrin!”
Isa nearly jumps out of his skin. “Oh crab, stop, just imagining it makes me emotional!!!”
Your arms itch. You hug them close to your body. Numbness crawls over your skin.
Another sharp pain digs into your chest. You bite your lip to keep from gasping in pain.
Roots wrap around your ribs. A vine crawls up your throat, threatening to tear it to shreds. Your heart beats faster. It gets harder to breathe.
“Siffrin! Are you ok?” Mirabelle asks. You gasp for air. Eyes dart between the others.
Mirabelle clutches her hands together. Her eyebrows knit together in concern. Odile frowns, her eyes soften.
“Sorry... Are we making you uncomfortable?” You know she means well, but her tone is still sharp.
Isa’s hands raise in a sign of surrender or to pacify the situation. “We'll stop, Sif! Sorry, Sif!”
Bonnie shifts slightly, looking down at the ground, but they don’t say anything.
You pull your hat over your face. “Let’s just get going.” You turn and head towards the bookshelf.
The adults of the group are talking behind your back again. They’re worried. After that performance, you can’t blame them.
The fight with Calamité goes well to say the least.
You easily dance around the sadness. A paper sign flashes in its crystal ball-like face. Good. You strike hard with Knife To Meet You.
The thing shrieks sending out a wave of craft. Mira puts up a shield nullifying its power.
Not that you need it. You can fight this sadness in your sleep.
“YOUR TURN!!!” Isa calls as he passes his turn to Odile. She stands of more to the side, channeling her craft into scissors III. The energy connects as sadness shrieks in pain.
Your turn again. Might as well dazzle the audience. You leap into the air, flipping for that dramatic flair.
Isa swoons at the sight. Odile scoffs, muttering under her breath.
You channel scissors craft into your dagger and bring it down. Far too late you notice that the symbol changes to rock.
Calamité rears back and collides into your side. You’re sent flying to the ground. Your dagger clatters by your side.
“Siffrin!” Mira calls, but the sadness turns its attention to her and charges.
Isa takes the moment of distraction to drag you to safety. Bonnie rushes over, tonic in hand. “Are you okay, Frin?” Their voice is uncharacteristically concerned over you.
Stars. They shouldn’t have to see you like this. If you lost another eye on their watch… then… then…
“I’m fine.” You fake a smile as you take the tonic and drink it.
Something catches in your throat. There’s an odd taste in your mouth. It’s an odd mixture of minty and fruity, like strawberry or raspberry. There’s a petal on the back of your tongue, you quickly swallow it.
You jump back up ready to fight again, but Isa puts his arm in front of you to keep you rejoining the fray.
“Are you sure you can fight? That blow you took looked really bad.”
It hurts to breathe, but you need you to keep going. They need you. You need to be better than this. You need to be there for them.
You nod. Isabeau hesitates a moment, before lowering his arm. With a snap of your finger you use Done Heal. It isn’t as powerful as Mirabelle’s healing, but it gets the job done.
You jump back into the fray. Your blows are far more reckless, wanting to get this fight over with as fast as possible. At least you take care not to scare them like you did with that first sadness.
It doesn’t take long for Calamité to fall. The usual script doesn’t happen. Instead the rest watch with concerned expressions.
“Let’s get going” you mutter as you pull your hat down and keep walking.
For a moment they don’t follow. Whispers surround you. Concern laces their words like a venom.
You enter the break room and the others shuffle into their usual spots. Bonnie heads to the corner to cook.
No one says their lines. Silence hangs over the room as everyone eats.
You glance around the room. They all feel so far away. A desperate hand raise, reaching out. Please, one of them has to notice you, to give you that affection you crave.
No… you lower your hand. It’s disgusting to crave touch. They’ve already made it clear that you’re unworthy.
You’re disgusting.
“Are you feeling ok?” Mirabelle asks, breaking your thoughts. You stifle a cough.
Stars. “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” You smile. Mirabelle won’t meet your gaze. Isa crosses his arms, his expression unreadable. Odile glances up from the book she’s writing in. Even Bonnie glares at you, their tiny fists clench.
“You’re not eating!” Bonnie calls out. “You usually like twice as much as this.”
Thorns poke into your throat. Each bite you swallow stings like sandpaper. But you can’t tell them that, so you swallow your words.
“And you’ve been so quiet ever since we left that storage room.” Mirabelle chimes in.
You don’t have anything to say. At least you got that information on wish craft. You’re on the right path now.
“Not to mention that fight with the big sadness.” Odile adds. Her eyes bore into your soul, mentally dissecting your movements. “Your recklessness could have gotten you killed.” A shiver runs down your spine.
She’s come so close to figuring out your secret already. You don’t need her to be suspicious over a cough too.
“Really I’m fine.” You rub your arm. “Just nervous. And it’s pretty dusty here.”
An itch burns under your skin. You ignore it. All eyes are on you. You squirm under their gaze.
“Can I at least check if you have a fever?” Her eyes plead with you. She rubs her arm nervously. “If that’s ok…”
On one hand you want to bolt. If they find out you’re sick they’ll leave you behind. You don't want to leave them. Your fingers tap at the ground.
But on the other hand, they’re already suspicious of you and your actions. You swallow hard, ignoring the pain in your throat.
“Yes.”
Mirabelle nods, her eyes full of determination. You chuckle.
She puts her against your head. So warm. You only want more.
She pulls her hand away, taking that warmth away. Your skin itches where it was. “It doesn’t feel like you have a fever...”
Then why does your chest still ache?
“But… I think you should take it easy… if you are sick then…”
What?
“I agree.” Odile’s glasses shine in the darkness. “No offense Siffrin, but we need to be in top shape if we’re going to face the king.”
You can’t let them. They can’t just leave you behind. You glance towards Bonnie and Isabeau. Bonnie won’t meet your eye. Isa crosses his arms, expression unreadable.
“I’m sorry, Sif, I’m with Madame on this.”
No… no you’re fine, you can still fight. You’re still-
Your chest stings as you gasp for air. You cough. You cough and it won’t stop. Mirabelle reaches out to comfort you.
“Does anyone have any water?”
You taste strawberries again. No, not here, not now. Before you react you cough up more petals. Mirabelle raises a hand to her mouth and gasps.
Isa takes a step back. “Is that… Hanahaki?”
You open your mouth to ask what he means, but another coughing fit hits you hard. More petals fly from your mouth. Something sharp cuts into your throat. You taste copper.
You feel…
A tug…
On your…
St o ma c h….
The room snaps back into view. Mirabelle stands in front of you. “Can I at least check if you have a fever?” Her eyes plead with you. “If that’s ok..”
You plaster the biggest smile on your face. “I’m fine, really.” You take a step back.
Isabeau crosses his arms. “Sorry, Sif, but we’re vetoing that.”
WHAT?
“I agree with Isabeau.” Odile snaps her book shut. You jump at the sound. “We are fighting the King! We need to be at the top of our game!”
They wouldn’t just… leave you would they? Your heart races. Your hands shake. Tiny needles dig into your chest. It’s hard to breathe.
Copper, burnt sugar, fruit. It all swirls together. Instinct takes over.
You run.
Footsteps echo behind you as the group calls out to you. But you pay them no mind.
You need to find a tear.
You dreamt that you were tangled in a rose bush. You still feel the thorns digging into you.
You wake with a jolt.
Back to the beginning of the loop. The sun shines down on you. Birdsong fills the air as you hug your knees. Nothing changed.
Your chest still hurts. You breathe in, but your breath hitches in your throat. Almost immediately you cough. With each cough, more petals fall to the ground. A layer of saliva and blood cover each one. Gross.
Your body shakes with each cough. You gasp for air. Thorns dig into your throat, cutting at the lining.
You bite on your lip, pull tight on your hair. Anything to distract you from the pain in your throat.
A new sensation makes itself known.
Another vine climbs up your throat. Tiny roots dig into your skin like needles. Leaves tickle the side of your throat. You cough, but this vine is far more stubborn than the rose petals.
Your mouth itches like you just ate pineapple.
You need to talk to Loop. Get up Siffrin, you have a country to save.
You stumble out of the meadow. Each step only makes your chest hurt more. Right on cue, Mirabelle walks down the path. She gasps when she sees you.
“Siffrin? Is something wrong?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” You nearly wince at how hoarse your voice sounds. “I was thinking about having a sleepover at the clock tower. What do you think?”
Mirabelle opens her mouth, most likely to protest. But there’s something about the look on your face that makes her shut her mouth. She smiles, though it looks forced.
“That sounds wonderful.” Her eyebrows knit into concern. “I don’t want to sound rude, but do you think I could heal you?”
….. that’s new. Without really thinking about it, you nod.
Mirabelle nods and holds her hands over your chest. Warmth washes over you. The vines and thorns retreat from your throat. For a brief moment you can breathe again.
“Sorry, it just looked like you had a rash.” She rubs her arms sheepishly. “You weren’t sleeping in poison ivy, were you?”
Poison ivy? “No, I don’t think so?”
That’s strange. But you need to keep moving. On instinct you remind her about the CARROT method before running off towards the favor tree.
You take your spot on the root of the favor tree. Loop sits in their usual spot, watching you. Their eyes glisten with smug curiosity. “Hello again Stardust.” What can I do for you on this wonderful new loop?”
“Do you know anything about coughing up flowers?” You ask. Might as well get to the point.
Loop tilts their head. “Now that’s an odd thing to ask about, Stardust.” They lean towards you, a hand resting under their chin. “You haven’t been eating that silly flower you keep shoving in everyone’s face have you~?”
You pull your hat over your face. “No… it’s just...” You peek your eyes out from the brim. “It stuck from the previous loop.”
As if to emphasize your point, you cough again. A single petal falls to the ground this time. Mirabelle’s healing did wonders, but it’s only a matter of time before the vines return.
Loop closes their eyes in thoughtful contemplation. “That is something I noticed. It doesn’t make sense.” They scratch where their chin should be. “That last loop. Did the fighter say a name?”
You rack your brain. Right, Isa said a name. Hanahaki, you think. If your illness has a name, then there must be information on it somewhere.