Chapter Text
Kacchan Bakugō did not have time for this.
Everything fucking hurt. Everything had been fucking hurting all day. Everything had been fucking hurting since Friday, in fact. His muscles felt sore; his throat felt like it was on fire; his chest felt like it was going to explode… He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to hold out for. Damn Deku had already noticed something was wrong, he knew, though that wasn’t much of a surprise. The fucking nerd was far too observant for his own good. It was a miracle, then, that said nerd wasn’t breathing down his neck with worry. Bakugō was alone.
It was Monday morning, and Bakugō was supposed to be getting ready for school, but he knew that he’d just get sent to the nurse’s office if he tried attending class as normal. Midoriya would bring attention to the fact that there was something wrong with Bakugō, and everyone else would come crowding around, trying to tend to him, and he’d be found out. He’d be sent to the school nurse, and he’d be scolded for not taking care of himself while sick, again.
And sick he was. It had started out bearable, but it was getting worse and worse with each passing day. Resting wasn’t doing shit, but there was no way he’d be going to the damn nurse’s office over this. He knew what he had, and what he had had to remain a secret, dammit. If word got out that Kacchan Bakugō had hanahaki of all things, he was sure he’d never hear the end of it. If anything, he could sneak out and go see a doctor and have it all fixed up with a surgery, and that’d be the smart thing to do. So why didn’t he want to…?
He coughed. And he coughed again. It wasn’t long before he’d fallen into the umpteenth coughing fit of the day. Hanahaki wasn’t supposed to get this bad this quickly, was it? He was already coughing up blood and flower petals, and it hadn’t even been a week since he started feeling like shit. Maybe the flowers in his lungs had already been growing for who knows how long before just then deciding to become a problem. That’d make sense, though it didn’t make things any better. If anything, it made things worse.
The taste of blood filled his mouth, and the color of blood coated the crook of his arm. The petals that followed could’ve been considered beautiful under almost any other circumstance. He wasn’t much of a botanist, but maybe they were primrose petals?
Whatever. It didn’t matter. Once this was all over, he didn’t want to see any of those damn heart-shaped petals ever again.
Those damn heart-shaped petals…
…
Izuku Midoriya couldn’t help but worry. Bakugō had been acting strange on Friday, and he hadn't been around all weekend. His absence at school just solidified the fact that something was deeply wrong. Bakugō never missed class if he could help it. Even if he acted like a delinquent, he was just as big of a nerd as Midoriya was, if not more so in some ways. He'd literally died the year prior and had still made it back to school only days later. So whatever was going on, Midoriya had to get to the bottom of it.
…that was if he didn't collapse first. Simply being at school and acting like his usual self was draining, right then. It had been a miracle that he hadn't passed out while walking to class. Like with Bakugō, something was deeply wrong with him, though he didn't know what, exactly. He was sick with something, — that much he knew — and he was all masked up so as not to infect his classmates with whatever it was. Iida had noticed immediately and had already scolded Midoriya for coming into class at all while under the weather, but Midoriya had managed to convince Iida that he just had a light cold, was all. He was fine.
…it was quickly becoming apparent, though, that he was not, in fact, fine. Focusing on Aizawa's lecture was becoming more and more difficult. Everything hurt, and he was starting to feel lightheaded — dizzy, even. Midoriya slowly lowered his head, resting it on his desk. Just a couple seconds with his eyes closed should've fixed it, right?
“Midoriya,” Aizawa said. His voice sounded as stern as usual, though there was a hint of concern buried within. “You didn't pull an all-nighter, did you?”
“Oh! No, sir,” Midoriya said, quickly. He sat bolt upright, and whatever relief he'd felt before was gone in an instant, replaced with a wave of even more dizziness. He tried not to show it, though. “I-I just—!”
Aizawa hummed.
Before Midoriya could say anything more, he was interrupted.
“You're not looking so good,” Aizawa said. “What's wrong?”
“Oh, well, um, I—” Midoriya stammered out. By that point, the rest of the class was looking at him, varying shades of concern evident on their faces. “I've got a bit of a cold. That's all.”
“...right,” Aizawa said, audibly sarcastic. Clearly, he wasn't convinced. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he asked, “Iida, what's wrong with Midoriya?”
“I'm not sure, sir,” Iida said, standing up behind his desk. “He's been looking sick since before class started, and he refuses to tell us what's really going on.”
…so Midoriya hadn't actually managed to convince Iida that he was fine. Good to know.
“I see,” Aizawa said. “Take him to the nurse's office. Let Recovery Girl take a good look at him.”
“Right away, sir!” Iida said. He went over to Midoriya and helped him up, saying, gently by his standards, “Let's go, Midoriya.”
Midoriya, meanwhile, groaned quietly in misery. This was not how the day was supposed to go.
…
…
…
Iida was holding onto Midoriya, the latter's arm slung around the former's shoulders. Each of Midoriya's steps were shaky, to say the least, and his breathing was far less than even. His skin was pale and covered in sweat, and he was burning up to the touch.
“What were you thinking, lying to us about only having a light cold when you're in this state?” Iida scolded. “You're lucky Mr. Aizawa caught on so quickly.”
“I didn't think it was that bad…” Midoriya muttered. Even if he had felt safe to open his eyes, he wouldn't have been making eye contact with Iida.
“Even if you didn't think it was ‘that bad’, you still should have told us!” Iida insisted. “Honestly, I don't know why I assumed you'd learned your lesson after last year’s Spring Break camping trip.”
The Spring Break camping trip… Amidst everything else that had happened during it, both Midoriya and Bakugō had managed to get sick. Well, Bakugō had already been in the process of getting sick beforehand, but it had only really hit him during—
Wait… Bakugō…
“Hey, Iida?” Midoriya asked, “Do you know if Kacchan's okay?”
“Bakugō?” Iida said. “Come to think of it, I haven't seen him since—”
“Since Friday, right?” Midoriya said.
Iida nodded. “Right…”
“Do you think he might be sick, too?” Midoriya asked.
“Maybe…” Iida said. “It would make sense, especially with you two spending so much time together. One of you might've caught something from the other.”
“I hope he's not in as bad a shape as I am…” Midoriya said.
“Let's hope,” Iida said. “But right now, I'm worried about you, alright? You look just about ready to faint.”
“Do I really look that bad—?” Midoriya asked. As if to answer his question, his body supplied him with a round of coughs: something that he wasn't unfamiliar with from the day before, but that was laced with a new surprise.
Midoriya coughed and coughed into the crook of his free elbow, and he could feel something coming out. It didn't feel like vomit, thank goodness, but it felt… strange. Soft, even. Whatever it was, it was being contained by the mask. However, with the softness came blood, and it didn't take long before the blood soaked through.
Iida only stared at the blood for a moment before scooping Midoriya up, fully, into his arms, and rushing down the halls. His apologies to the rules, but time was of the essence. Tenya Iida was running through the halls, and Midoriya could only hold on and try to bite down the nausea building in his stomach.
…
…
…
It wasn't long before the two arrived at the nurse's office. Recovery Girl must've heard Iida's footsteps, because she was right at the door, asking questions, before Midoriya even had the chance to process that Iida had stopped running.
“What happened to him?” Recovery Girl asked. It was obvious at a glance that Midoriya was in bad shape.
“We don't know with what, but he's severely ill,” Iida answered. “He's been having trouble walking, he seems to have a high fever, he's been coughing up blood, and—”
“Flower petals…” Midoriya chimed in. His voice sounded rather weak, right then, and rather quiet.
“Flower petals?” Recovery Girl questioned. “Have you been eating flowers?”
Midoriya weakly shook his head. “No, ma'am…” he said. “I haven't…”
“Iida, please put Midoriya on one of the beds,” Recovery Girl said, motioning to said beds. Iida nodded and obliged, gently setting Midoriya down. Midoriya seemed to relax, just a little bit.
“Now, how long has this been going on for?” Recovery Girl asked, going over to the two.
“Since yesterday…” Midoriya said. “I've been feeling kinda weird since then. But the blood… and the flower petals… are new.”
“Why didn't you go and get medical attention yesterday?” Recovery Girl scolded.
Midoriya winced, but he gave her the same answer he'd given Iida: “It didn't seem all that bad…”
Recovery Girl sighed and shook her head.
“Honestly,” she said, “what am I going to do with you?”
…
…
…
Between taking his vitals and asking more questions, an unfortunate picture of Midoriya’s health was forming for Recovery Girl, and each piece of information she gathered just made it clearer.
“Midoriya, would you mind taking off your mask for a second?” she asked.
“Um… sure,” Midoriya said. And as he took it off, both Recovery Girl and Iida could see the petals Midoriya had been talking about: some were heart-shaped, and some were more rounded with a notch at the end, but all were saturated with his blood. Recovery Girl took the mask and took a closer look.
“I think I know what's wrong with him,” Recovery Girl said, at last disposing of the dirty mask. It had served its purpose.
“What is it?” Iida asked. He needed to know.
Recovery Girl looked at the two of them and asked, “Have either of you two heard of a disease called hanahaki?”