Archive of Our Own

I seem to have caught the Hanahaki disease.

By that alone, I assume you have worked out what I mean to tell you. Through a rigorous process of conferring with doctors about a possible diagnosis and several conversations with a licensed professional, it has been discovered that I very possibly—It has been discovered that my flowers only—It has been discovered that the feelings I’m repressing are— the cause of my case has been… found. It has been recommended that unless I plan to die within the next few months, I should contact the cause and process the necessary information with them in conversation. They said that a letter would do.

I appear to have come down with the Hanahaki disease. On recommendation of a specialist in the subject, and with the guidance of the licensed professional, I have decided to reach out to inform you of something very important. Due to the nature of the Hanahaki disease, I must trust you with this information so that the flowers in my right lung don’t collapse my--so the flowers I choke up stop looking like the blue-green of your eyes—I must trust you with this information in order to save my life. I apologize deeply for any inconvenience this may cause, and I ask that we put it behind us as quickly as possible, as I have decided to not act on it otherwise.

According to my doctor, I will know the next time I look at you, so there is really no need to acknowledge you read this. Please do not feel the need to tell me. Please.

In case this is the letter that actually makes it—doubtful as it may be—I have been choking up blue-green flowers in my apartment’s bathroom for the last five weeks. Of course, that is a dead giveaway for Hanahaki, but I went to the doctor anyway to see if this could be removed. I didn't want to go at first until the petals started coming out dripping red. The specialist I see told me that the buds in my right lung are spreading. The current worry is that it will either spread out of my right lung into my left and choke me, or break the lung wall and collapse it entirely. In both cases, it is likely I will die. There is a high risk surgery that could potentially remove the Hanahaki, but that usually is only recommended if they think there is absolutely no chance of it coming back afterwards, so I met with my licensed professional to see if they thought these… feeli that I could avoid a resurgence.

Hiroki and I went to dinner the other night, and he has informed me that you two are no longer seeing each other, which did make me angry, again. We fought over him all of our freshman year, don’t you remember? And now you’ve decided you’re done with him? I nearly coughed a flower into my soup. It took all of my willpower to drag myself into that bathroom, and the flower this time was a strange pink and teal that I have no idea how to interpret. Why did you and Hiroki part ways, I wonder? He was so cage-y about it, and the look he shot me when I came back from the bathroom was aggravating. He doesn’t know—no one does, apart from Mother, who insists on paying the hospital bills. I suppose maybe Sasaki was right that she doesn’t despise me, but I am still unsure if I believe she doesn’t rue the day I was born. Perhaps if my father had been yours, or if I was you, she would have been happy. 

I have had to cancel plans and events for this disease, and I cannot stand having to let so many things slip through my fingers because I’m unsure when the next time I’ll cough up another blood soaked flower or keel over in pain when the thorns get too sharp. Every letter I write to you never touches on the point I need it to. I need to tell you about my  about the cause of this. Of all of this.

It hurts too much to continue. I cannot get the taste of iron out of my mouth. I’ll try again later.

She won’t even look me in the eye, you know. Of course, she found more reasons not to look at me at all for the majority of my life, but to not meet my eye entirely is another matter. I believe the idea of losing me might be something she is secretly glad for, but feels guilty about it. My therapist has the more favorable opinion that perhaps she is fighting a grief that has yet to come to pass, considering the loss of my father a few years ago and her own loss of—well, of your dad before that. I think it hurts worse to think of her grieving me rather than being relieved, so I’d rather not consider that at all. She’s haunted by the sound of your dad’s voice. Sometimes, when she sits in the drawing room near me and thinks I’m not looking, I catch her with her head tilted, listening to a sound that’s not there. I think if anything, I’m haunted by your eyes. The blue-green is everywhere, or maybe my subconscious is projecting it to be so.

Sasaki has told me to set up a meeting with you in person. I will message you tonight.

I love you. I hate you, and I wish that my mother loved me like she seems to love the part of you that carries your father’s legacy, and I wish that Hiroki had loved me when I still loved him. But there’s some part of me that loves you, too. Wants you, maybe. I want to hold whatever makes you special in my hands and understand it for myself.

Respectfully, due to the nature of her passing, we ask that you to refrain from bringing flowers to this funeral. Wake to follow at Himuro Manor. Please be on time, and we hope you'll join us in celebrating her life.

P.S. She would want you there.

—Himuro Keiko