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He was playing a game when the flower petal appeared.
Kenma had just arrived from yet another tiring day at Nekoma highschool. The moment he stepped foot into his home, he immediately dashed towards his comfort zone of a room, gently chucked his school stuff into a corner, and picked up his 3DS to continue playing his copy of Fire Emblem: Awakening. The setter then became completely engrossed in training his units and progressing through the story. Upon the recommendation of Hinata, who couldn't complete the game to save his life, Kenma tried out this tactical-RPG. After playing through a few chapters of the game, he was surprised at how complex and detailed the game was. He was totally hooked.
Some chapters later, he began to realize the importance of bonding units together. Characters that had reached a certain rank of closeness would assist each other more often, not to mention the benefits of having a child with very overpowered stats. So Kenma began pairing units together. About a dozen S supports later, he now had all the future children in his roster, except his avatar’s child.
Kenma stared at his console's screen, deep in thought.
In all honesty, he had no idea who to pair his avatar with. Kenma had customized his character to look as similar to himself as possible, so he certainly felt some closeness to his avatar, but he also wanted to pair him with someone so that he can get his avatar’s overpowered child. The only problem was that he didn't want to pair him with any of the remaining bachelorettes.
That was when his throat began to itch.
Ignoring the irritating feeling in his throat, Kenma suddenly began to ponder on what kind of person he’d want to marry. While weighing his marriage options in his game, the gamer also began to realize what kind of person he’d want to marry.
Kenma wanted someone who would always be there for him and support him despite his introverted tendencies. He wanted someone who’d be patient with him and help him get out of his shell. He wanted someone who would never betray nor shun him, but instead encourage him to try new things. He wanted someone like…
Someone like Kuroo.
Kenma widened his eyes at the revelation, and the itch in his throat became so unbearable that he dropped his console and violently coughed into the palm of his hand, his entire body wincing at the sudden action. As Kenma clutched his chest in pain and attempted to catch his breath, a single flower petal fluttered from his palm and onto the sheets of his bed. Kenma stared at the petal in silent horror before stuffing it into his pocket and returning to his game, as if he didn't realize what that flower petal meant for him or how it would, quite literally, end his life.
“Hey Kenma, you feeling alright?” Kuroo asked as they walked on their usual path to school. Concern was subtly evident in his voice.
Kenma continued playing his 3DS as he replied. “I’m fine, Kuroo,” he said as nonchalantly as possible. Obviously that answer didn't satisfy the ravenette, but he dropped the subject with a sigh, which the setter was grateful for because he was not fine.
It had been a whole week since Kenma coughed up that petal, and ever since, he’d been having numerous coughing fits throughout each day. Miraculously, he’d been able to hide this fact from his family and teammates, but each day, more and more petals appeared from the depths of his lungs. There were enough petals that Kenma had resorted to hiding them beneath the floorboards. Each day, the setter would wake up to numerous flower petals scattered across his bed and he would quickly hide them before getting ready for school. He would make sure to empty his system of any remaining flowers before leaving his house to meet up with Kuroo and walk to school. As usual, they would walk in comfortable silence, with Kuroo occasionally commenting on whatever game Kenma was playing and the setter mumbling a reply. They’d arrive at school and go to their respective classes, where Kenma would discreetly spit out flower petals as he listened to the teacher to avoid any suspicion. He’d stay almost deathly silent during club practice, and would hack out some more petals before walking home with Kuroo. At night, he’d practically exhale petals, finding solace only in playing more Fire Emblem. The cycle was atrocious.
This was the point where Kenma decided to actually accept this reality and instead began researching on this seemingly impossible condition.
He remembered playing a game where the disease occurred to one of the characters. Hanahaki, it was called, was a disease born from unrequited love. The feeling of longing enables some plant to sprout in the victim’s lungs, and would continue to grow until the victim dies of suffocation. There are 2 ways to save the victim. Either their feelings are returned, causing the plant to wither away and die, or the plant is surgically removed, but the victim’s feelings would disappear with it. Interestingly enough, the kind of flower the victim’s coughing up would reflect how they see their crush, or how the victim feels about them. Kenma’s coughing up Forget-Me-Nots.
Apparently they mean true, undying love and a connection that lasts through time.
He and Kuroo continued their walk to school in comfortable silence, which allowed Kenma to both drown himself in his game and ponder over his present predicament. Soon, they arrived at Nekoma High, where Kuroo waved at him with a smile.
“See ya at practice,” he said before dashing off to his class. Holding in a cough of petals, the setter walked into his classroom just as the bell rang. Usually, Kenma would listen to the teacher while doodling or scribbling down some of his strategies for his games, but his teacher’s words fell on deaf ears as the gamer tuned out the world around him and focused on thinking about his game. He knew that he really should be listening to class, but he didn’t care. He needed a distraction from his present life-threatening situation, and games were the only effective answer, though he probably won’t go too deep into his Fire Emblem save anymore. Stats before anything, right?
After class (Kenma hardly listened to the teacher, so he’s probably screwed for the test), he met up with Kuroo before heading towards the gym for volleyball practice.
“…” Kenma inwardly groaned as Kuroo opened the door to the now-occupied gym. Unfortunately, playing volleyball only made his throat more painful and irritated, probably because Kuroo was the one who dragged him into the sport in the first place. As much as he’d want to skip practice, doing so would raise unwanted suspicion, so he had little choice but to endure.
“Over here, Kenma!”
The setter stopped wallowing in his self-pity and directed his attention to Kuroo, who was waiting for a toss midair. The ball reached Kenma’s hands, and he was about to toss it to the ravenette when he felt the sudden urge to cough out some flower petals. His momentary distraction broke his focus, and his toss’ trajectory went a bit off. Thankfully, Kuroo managed to spike the ball into the other side of the court, but Kenma’s slip-up did not go unnoticed.
“Oi, Kenma. What’s wrong?” Coach Nekomata asked. Everybody who saw the play had the same question reflected in their eyes. Kuroo was looking at him strangely.
Panic swelled up in his chest. “I’m, uh, not feeling very well today,” which was true, because coughing up flower petals was certainly not the definition of healthy.
“If you’re not feeling well, then I’ll switch you out for the rest of practice,” the coach ordered, and although the setter wanted to protest, he knew that if he kept playing, he’d risk getting his secret revealed. So reluctantly, he took a seat on the benches and watched as the game resumed. The new setter tossed to Kuroo, and he spiked it straight down, but Kenma could tell that the captain was distracted. After a while, the setter couldn't take it anymore and sought out permission to leave early. The coach looked skeptical, but permitted his request. Before anyone could attempt to interrogate him, Kenma quickly gathered his things and sprinted out of the gymnasium, leaving behind a bunch of confused teammates and a concerned, suspicious, Kuroo.
Upon exiting the gym, Kenma made a beeline towards the nearest bathroom. Locking himself in an open stall, he proceeded to vomit flower petals like there was no tomorrow. His throat felt like it was on fire as more and more petals filled the toilet bowl. By the time he stopped, all he could see in the toilet was petals over petals of Forget-Me-Nots. The gamer’s lungs ached torturously as he flushed the mountain of flora down. After that sudden attack, all he could do was curl up into ball on the toilet seat with eyes shut closed to recover. Every breath sent shockwaves of pain throughout his respiratory system.
He managed to steady his inhaling and exhaling, though it still hurt like hell.
Now mostly recovered, Kenma dragged himself out of the stall only to see his pale face and drop-dead look in the mirror in front of him. Observing his pathetic state, he realized that at the rate he’s going at, he might not have much time left before the flowers suffocate him.
That thought earned him another cough full of Forget-Me-Nots.
The setter watched them flutter to the ground and sighed as he crouched down to pick them up. He grimaced at the amount of petals he had coughed up compared to a week ago, when he didn’t feel like absolute crap. As he gently plucked each petal off the tiled ground, he noticed that, dabbed at the edges of some petals, there was a liquid red substance present.
It was blood.
Face now a shade paler that before, Kenma crushed the Forget-Me-Not petals in his fist and stuffed them into his pocket before walking out of the bathroom and going home.
Well, he was going to do just that when he finally noticed a certain white-haired totem pole standing at the bathroom entrance, eyes wide and mouth agape. Kenma stared at him for a count of 10 before uttering a response.
“…Lev, how long have you been standing there?”
“Uh, since you coughed up those petals in your pocket…” Lev’s voice turned into a whisper at the end as he looked away guiltily.
The setter closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose for a second before releasing a sigh of resignation.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he ordered with a piercing glare and hoarse voice.
Lev looked as though he wanted to object, but it seemed that the serious look that Kenma gave him was enough for him to realize that his protests would be pointless. Instead, he grinned mischievously, inducing a feeling of dread in Kenma’s chest.
“I’ll keep it a secret,” Lev promised, which should’ve relieved the setter, but the grin on his kouhai’s face told him that he wasn't finished.
“But you need to tell me who it is!”
Kenma sighed in defeat.
Kenma had taken a day off.
After sending a text to Kuroo saying that he wouldn't be going to school today, the gamer finally reached the last chapter of his Fire Emblem: Awakening save. It had been 3 weeks since Lev promised not to tell anyone about Kenma’s hanahaki problem, and since then, he’d been covering for him when necessary, miraculously pulling it off. Although the setter was annoyed that Lev, of all people, was the first to find out, Kenma had to admit that the lanky giant’s reaction to the identity of his crush was pretty hilarious. Unfortunately, his parents caught him attempting to dispose all the petals he’d coughed up, and had immediately taken him to a doctor. The setter reluctantly answered the doctor’s questions, and was given a prescription, a bottle of pills, and a phone number if ever he wanted to do the surgery. Needless to say, the moment he got home, he dashed into his room, chucked the number into the trash bin, and continued playing Fire Emblem.
The slip of paper containing the number was still in the bin.
After a week of excruciating coughing fits, gross and ineffective pills, and poorly-made excuses to skip practice, the hanahaki had become so painful that Kenma’s parents contacted the school, saying that he’ll be on sick leave for a while. The setter wanted to protest, because his absence would only raise more concern and suspicion from his teammates (especially Kuroo), but his hands had been tied.
Kenma clicked his tongue as he progressed through the end of his game. The past month had been rough. Not just because of the coughing fits, but because of the worried looks and suspicious glances he’d been receiving from Kuroo. Kenma, being the observant and overly aware person he is, could tell that his best friend was hurt by his secrecy. Though Kuroo always radiates confidence and fearlessness as team captain, there were times where Kenma saw cracks in his façade. Whenever the setter found a chance to peer into those cracks, he saw his best friend’s anxiety, doubt, and fear hidden behind a mask of shrewdness and fortitude. Kenma wasn’t stupid, and he knew that Kuroo’s role as captain was full of burdens that only he could carry, but he still wanted to help his childhood friend somehow, even in the most insignificant way possible. Perhaps that desire to help the ravenette manifested into this science-defying disease that’s slowly but surely killing him. Maybe he was finally done with just watching others and being a coward. Either way, he wanted Kuroo to be happy, and he couldn't afford to be a burden. Sure, he could get the surgery and, well, not die, but if he goes through with it then he’ll probably stop playing volleyball.
And that would upset Kuroo.
Cue the coughing and a bloodied Forget-Me-Not appearing on his chest.
Kenma inspected the flower drenched in red. Most hanahaki cases usually take around 6 months or more to become life-threatening, but the constant presence of Kuroo plus the volleyball practice probably didn't help. Looking at the flower before him, he remembered that once a hanahaki victim starts coughing up whole flowers, they only have so much time until…
Kenma decided not to finish that thought.
One morning of coughing fits and gaming later, the setter heard the front door open. Strange, he thought, his parents shouldn't be home yet. Did they come back for some-
The door to his room slammed open, revealing a panting and sweaty Kuroo.
“K-Kuroo?!” Kenma exclaimed in surprise, quickly sitting up from his previous position to face the ravenette.
Kuroo caught his breath and began inspecting the gamer’s room, taking note of the flowery mess that is his floor. He solemnly picked up a Forget-Me-Not and grimaced at the stains of blood coating it. He then walked towards a still stunned Kenma, and promptly took a seat on the edge of his bed.
The silence that soon followed was defeaning, with neither of them opting to say anything. Kenma was busy attempting to calm his overworking nerves, while Kuroo stared at nothing, wearing an inscrutable expression. The quietude lasted for what felt like eternity but was actually just a few minutes before Kuroo broke it with his question.
“…Since when?” The ravenette quietly asked, his tone of voice uncharacteristically serious.
Kenma looked away guiltily, “A month ago.”
“Ah, when you started playing that Fire Emblem game,” Kuroo mentioned half-heartedly before looking straight at Kenma, who noticed his piercing gaze and returned it hesitantly.
“So,” The ravenette started. The setter’s shoulders tensed as he realized what his best friend was about to ask next.
“Who is it?”
Kenma’s heart sunk at the dreaded question.
“Who is it that’s killing you through an absurd, logic-bending disease involving flowers?”
You.
Kenma’s reply was stuck in his throat with the petals.
Kuroo kept a poker face, but his eyes pleaded for an answer. The setter could only stare at him apologetically for not being able to reply. The former eventually realized that he wasn't getting an answer. Crestfallen, Kuroo slowly got up to leave.
Kenma widened his eyes at what was happening before him. If Kuroo left, he’d probably never get another chance to confess, and he’d probably die a regretful, pathetic death because of his cowardice and a disease that makes no sense whatsoever.
Swallowing his fears and paranoia, the setter reached out and grabbed the ravenette’s hand. Kuroo froze in place, and turned to face him with an unreadable expression.
Kenma opened his mouth to speak, but instead Forget-Me-Nots poured out and the metallic taste of blood overcame his taste buds as he had yet another coughing fit. Kuroo tried to help him, but stopped when a slightly bigger, miraculously untouched Forget-Me-Not smacked him in the face.
When the coughing fit resided, Kenma snorted.
Kuroo blinked, as if he just had an epiphany, and gently picked up the flower that just attacked his face.
“Y’know…Lev told me something weird before I ran here.”
Kenma froze.
“’Hey, Senpai. Did you know that Forget-Me-Nots mean ‘a connection that lasts through time’ and ‘true and undying love?’” Kuroo smirked playfully as he attempted to imitate the 1st year's voice, the Forget-Me-Not twirling in his grasp.
Kenma made a mental note to thank and murder Lev later.
He stared at the grinning male, expression like that of a spooked cat, before feeling heat fill his cheeks and burying his face into his hands.
The ravenette chuckled at the setter’s embarrassment before gently prying Kenma’s hands away, revealing his crimson face. The gamer, still in the midst of processing the situation, felt calloused hands cup his cheeks, and he was forced to look at Kuroo directly, noticing the faint splash of pink on his cheeks. As their faces inched closer and closer, the moment their lips made contact, Kenma subconsciously smiled in satisfaction, because he had successfully completed the hardest game.
“Love you too.”