TW: Includes death, blood, and one sided love. Has a sad ending, as well. (Ofc, it’s angst. Lmao)
She/her pronouns
On a side note: This is my first real attempt at writing angst, so I apologize if it’s not sad enough,,, (Although, I think it’s pretty mf sad.) I was thinking of making this a series including all of the warlords getting the fictional disease? I just find the concept really interesting, and, I would appreciate it a lot if you guys could take a moment to share your thoughts and comment whether or not if you’d like this as a series!
I wrote this on complete impulse instead of working on the negleted stuff in my askbox, YOLO-
Yes I just used “YOLO” in a sentence and it’s the year 2020, yikes.
For those of you who are unaware of the Hanakaki disease: It’s when a victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from a one sided love. Over time it becomes deadly, and suffocates the victim. There’s two ways you can overcome the disease, the first- of course, being when your love for the person is no longer one sided, as the second is a potential surgury; if you recieve it, as it may save your life, you can never feel love again.
....................
His chest grows tight, painfully tight.
Familiarly tight.
His throat burns with each swallow, as does each slow breath he tries to suppress. Everyone is laughing with joy at the table in which he sits. His eyes look around the room, scanning each of their expressions- a sad attempt to distract himself from the pain.
A pain that increases when his now blurry vision focuses on her.
She smiles, setting down her cup. She carries it with her own sort of grace, unlike anyone else in the room. Of course, her still in tact sobriety probably plays a part in this.
Actually, her sobriety had nothing to do with the way she moved. How she set the cup down was completely normal, it hit the table with a gentle clink. How can one even have grace when holding a simple wooden cup? Ridiculous.
In Yukimura’s eyes, everything she does has some sort of unique way to it. Not because he was drunk. Not because of the people around her. Yukimura is in love with her. Oh so desperately, smitten.
His hand grips onto the table, knuckles white from his insane grip. He stifles a cough, mouth full with a sticky, iron tasting, substance; his own blood. Quickly, and without a word, he leaves the room. His frenzied walk becomes a fast trot until he is outside.
Knees weak, they meet the soft dirt, and his shoulders begin to shake. His body becomes heavy as he coughs ferociously. Soon enough, between each desperate gasp for air, are the same florescent pink petals drenched in his blood. The thorns scratch his throat. He fears what they could do to his voice. Perhaps he would lose it, live the rest of his days mute.
At the end of the day, even a life mute as long as she is in his presence is a good one. The thought once again makes his now daily cycle repeat its self.
When he finishes, he wipes his mouth clean; ready to go back and pretend this never happened. He figured he will say he drank a little too much, and was feeling sick. Yes, that will work just fine.
Or at least he thought it would, until he turns around.
There she leans against the castle wall, arms crossed in an unformal- but of course, beautiful way. The bright moonlight shines just enough for him to make out the details in her distraught expression.
Yukimura’s eyes widen, and he wonders worriedly as to how much she just witnessed? What she would think of him, after looking so vulnerable and weak before her.
Before he can even say anything, she’s moving forward, her hand gently touching his cheek. He blushes, pulling away quickly as he coughs for the third time tonight. A new personal record.
She watches the stained petals fall to the ground, biting her lip. Yukimura continues to cough, but this time, the pain is more excruciating than before.
After his croaking, there’s silence. An awkward, long period of silence.
“How long have you had it?” He flinches at the sound of her voice. The happiest noise in the world for him now sounds so sad.
It’s challenging, but his dry lips manage to curve into a big smile. A fake one, that is so wide it travels to what he hopes are his convincing eyes. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. We should be getting back.” He walks past her, legs screaming begging him for rest.
“Cut the shit, Yukimura.”
Once again, there’s silence.
He turns his head to look at her. She stands still before him, taking a mostly clean petal from the ground that he expelled only moments before.
“You have Hanakaki disease; and it’s clearly getting quite severe. How could you not tell me?”
He slowly inhales, looking at the ground in shame. He wished to tell her, he really did. As a matter of fact, he’s wanted to tell her everything about the matter. How she is the one he longs for, how his lungs and heart burn for her. But, when the disease is revolved around an unrequited love, what’s the point?
So he stays silent, hoping she’ll just forget about it for the time being.
“So, you don’t want to talk about it?” She gazes at him longingly, trying to read his face. She finds nothing. “Fine.”
MC takes his hand, dragging him to a nearby seat. Gently, she plops beside him with hoax gusto. “Then I suppose we’ll just have awkward small talk until you do. Allow me to think.”
Almost in a joking manner, she rests her hand on her chin, looking off in the distance. Moments later, her face lights up with excitement.
She’s so cute.
“This morning’s weather was terrible! The wind was so cold, I believe it gave me whiplash. What do you think?” He can tell she’s trying to sound casual, but her pitiful voice crack a the end makes her feelings obvious. His brow furrows as he dryly exhales.
“There was no point in telling you, Dummy. I’ll be fine, you don’t need to worry about it.” His voice is raspy still, desperately in need of hydration.
Her posture straightens as she stares at him, clearly irritated.
“Listen... Have you even talked to this person? Do they know what you’re going through?”
Yes-
“No.” A lie. One used to protect her from the pain he knows she’d feel if the truth was revealed. “Can we just stop talking about this and go? The guys are going to start getting suspicious, and I don’t want Shingen to get annoying because he has the wrong idea.”
She now looks down, closing her eyes sadly. He notices her hands clench the silk fabric of her kimono, fabric he bought her when they first met. Oh how unbelievably good the shade of red looks on her; his color.
“Alright. But please tell them soon, before it’s too late. You’re an amazing man, Yukimura, anyone would be extremely lucky to have you. I care for you too much to see you die.” With that, she stands, walking inside without looking back.
What did that mean?
His heart beats in his chest quickly, thinking of her last words.
“I care for you too much to see you die.“
Perhaps it was possible if she felt something for him. Interest beyond platonic? He ponders on, the new hope of living a long and happy life with her.
A chance to be with the woman he loves.
He gasps, blood dripping out of his nose and mouth now. There’s petals everywhere, suffocating him as his mouth fills with more and more. Yukimura’s airways are blocked.
No, I need to know if she can ever love me! This can’t be it!!!
He swallows some petals, immense pressure on his chest as he clutches it. His mind grows fuzzy- as he is unable to form any proper thoughts.
No...
He collapses to the ground yet again, and there’s a moment where his body finally relaxes, where he feels almost at peace. His hope is not strong enough to keep his heart beating.
I love you, MC. I really do... I’ll never forgive myself for not telling you that.
And with his final gasp for air, his mind is brought into a black abyss, and his body goes limp- death taking its turn.
