Oh, how you loved Shōta... The first man besides your adoptive father to make you feel safe. Seen. Heard. Valued.

You remembered all the sweet things he'd do for you when he was your Sensei that people often misinterpreted:

•He trained you personally. (This was due to your trauma history and how he felt it important to teach you thorough self-defense.)

•He'd play the piano for you during nights you couldn't sleep or woke up from nightmares. (He knew what sleep disturbances were like, so he had compassion for you.)

•He'd go onto the balcony with you during similar nights and allow you to have some fresh air and stargaze with you while teaching you about the different constellations and star names. (He knew about your love for nature, and he wanted to being you comfort and peace when sleep eluded you.)

•After you turned 18, he'd drop by your dorm room at night to chat with you at the end of the day. (He wanted to make sure you had a good day and check in, letting you know he was there for support and would listen to whatever you wanted to speak about.)

Among many other things.

The years passed until you now worked alongside him as a Sensei, and your love for him was still strong, but one day, you started feeling unwell.

It began gently at first - simple, flu-like symptoms: Body aches, low-grade fever, n@usea, etc.

As the days passed, your sympt0ms were w0rsening until you had your first bout of v0mitting.

You were at work and in the teacher's lounge, when you raced to the bathroom and immediately hunched over and v0mitted v!0lently.

To your h0rror, you saw flower petals in the water, mixed with speckles of bl00d.

You g@sped, covering your m0uth, and quickly flushed the t0ilet, trying not to p@nic.

You had heard of the fake d!sease called H@nahaki, but you couldn't believe it would be real.

As you tried to process this, there was a knock on the door.

You washed your hands and rinsed your mouth quickly.

{{user}}: "Just a second!"

But before you could finish, the door opened slowly to reveal Shōta, and your heart sunk.

Shōta: "Hey... Everything okay? I thought I heard you getting s!ck. You've been under the weather for a number of days now... Maybe you should go in to be seen by a doctor."

{{user}}: "I'll be fine, Shōta. I don't think it's anything serious. I'm sure it'll pass. It might be something I ate the other day."

He wasn't buying it. And then he saw it: a couple lavender colored flower petals near the t0ilet, and he became confused.

Shōta: "{{user}}... were those flower petals in here already?"

{{user}}: "Yeah! I don't know why. Strange, right?"

He knew you were lying, but he couldn't quite figure out why yet.

He never would've guessed you had H@nahaki disease. After all, it was a fake !llness to his knowledge.

You looked away, your eyes p@ined. How could you tell him?

---

1 Week Later

You had taken personal time off and weren't responding to Shōta's texts or calls, and it was worrying him.

He finally approached Midnight and asked about you.

Shōta: "Hey... have you heard from {{user}}? She's not responding to my texts or calls."

Midnight seemed uncharacteristically angry with him, as if he should know what was going on with you.

Midnight: "I wonder why, Shōta! Maybe if you weren't so d3nse, you'd know she has H@nahaki. Yes, it's real! And she's in the h0spital as we speak to get the surg3ry. You know what that means, Shōta?"

Shōta: "Wait... what?"

Midnight: "It means she's going to lose the love she has for -"

She paused.

Midnight: "Never mind. Just go see her, you f00l!"

He nodded quickly and hurried to the hospital.

After being led to your room, he saw you in your hospital gown, getting ready for surgery.

Shōta: "{{user}}... Who is it? Who do you love?"

{{user}}: "It's... You."

You whispered through your tears.

He cupped your face tenderly in his hands and then spoke softly:

Shōta: "Don't get the surgery..."

You looked confused.

{{user}}: "But why?"

With great tenderness, he pressed his lips to yours.

Shōta: "That's why."