Work Text:
Yukimura Airi
Musutafu, Japan
01 June, 2117 - 14 March, 2132
喜び
Petals rustled against the headstone. The overcast sky had long since dissipated into a fading sunset. But there was no warmth to be had. Not here, in this place stewing in loss and pain.
Hana plucked the last weed that sprouted by the grave. She tossed it aside to join the rest in a small pile of tangled and damp springs. They’d find their new home in a garbage disposal at the cemetery gates, that was a given. But... not now.
“The sakura blooms were exceptional this year,” Hana whispered. “You’d love to see them.”
Her only response? The slight shift of the bouquet, pink petals threatening to fall to stone.
A quick fix. Not with her quirk, however—no, her sister deserved more care than that. She rightened the flowers back to facing the sky, safe from any rainfall by the canopy her parents had designed. Ume blossoms and kosumosu twined into the deep green. Twisted into it were small blooms of fuji, pale yellow pistils shown to the world.
“I trust that.”
Hana froze, fingers threatening to brush the silken cocoon holding the bouquet together. Brown leather flickered in her peripheral, accented by that painfully familiar ume weave.
That—it couldn’t be.
Part of her wished it could be.
She drew back slowly, holding her breath. It couldn’t, but it could . Perhaps she could stop grieving if this were true . And as she looked up, hope elevated her heart.
There Airi stood, whole and smiling just like the day they last saw each other. Brown boots, white dress, her favorite cardigan— whole .
It’s a lie.
She shoved down the doubt and pushed herself to her feet. Emotions welled and caught in her throat.
“Hi, Nana.” Airi smiled her iconic, lopsided grin, voice soft. “How’ve you been?”
God, if this was a trick, then it was a cruel one to do. But what else was she supposed to do but believe ?
A crack rose in Hana’s throat. Pain, disbelief, relief—too many emotions to count and account for clawed at scabbing wounds with salted water. Pushing past the threads of hesitation, she took a step forward, hand raised.
It can’t be. It could.
You died. There’s miracles in the world.
But you’re here . A trick, a fluke of the mind.
She pressed her hand to Airi’s cheek. Real, warm, solid cheek, not stained with blood. A sob tore from her throat. “Airi?”
The world blurred around them. Yet, her sister stayed that same, bright, delightful light.
And her sister just smiled. Smiled as if nothing happened, like she never left, like she didn’t die in that godforsaken lab as a lab rat, then a shield for a monster . “I’m here,” she chuckled, head tilting inquisitively. “Miss me?”
God. Hana choked on a laugh—another sob. “What kind of question is that?”
“It’s a genuine one!” her sister all but exclaimed indignantly. In a way that was just so Airi-like .
Pain gagged Hana. Streaks of cold bled down her face, chilled by the coming night’s air. They froze into pindrops once fallen from her chin. Step after step, she lunged forth and wrapped her sister in an embrace. One they couldn’t— shouldn’t —leave. She let go once, and she refused to do so again.
Because —
Hana pressed her face into Airi’s shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. It burned, the second sob that clawed its way free.
If she did again , the world’s going to shatter again. And she wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces this time.
Real, solid warmth seeped through Hana’s touch. Fingers ghosted over from her back to her shoulders. A light, gentle pressure, familiar in all the ways she’s missed. “Nana, it’s okay,” Airi whispered. “You’re okay.”
But she’s not . She hadn’t been since Airi—
“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” Hana choked out. Cotton rubbed abrasively against her fingertips. Something she couldn’t bring herself to care about, not now. Her clutch tightened, wrinkling the pink shirt. “You just—you left. You were there, and then you—you—”
“Oh, Nana.” A quiet hush. Hands drew away from her back.
A strangled gasp left Hana. No, no, no no no—
Those very same hands pressed against her cheeks. Airi’s gaze softened, unbearably so. “It’s not true.”
But it is .
Their last moments were rushed and chaotic. They had no time for final words, for closure or a chance to—
A chance to say she cared, and still cared.
Now, here she stood, staring at a ghost, a memory, an illusion her mind conjured in an attempt to make the grief a little easier. But it wasn’t easy.
Far from it.
Because she felt how Airi was starting to fade from her hands. How the warmth slipped out between her fingertips, how her sister’s caring touch grew lighter with each passing second.
“No,” Hana gasped, shaking her head. A tighter hold was needed. Something— anything —to make this moment longer. “Not yet—please, not yet .”
“Hana,” Airi’s voice was barely above a whisper.
The stars above dimmed. Her sister, flickering in a likewise manner. Just like a candle burnt low.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s okay to let go.”
Grief spilt freely from her eyes. There was no speaking around the stone lodged in her throat. Please, no . Sniffling, she shook her head again, more vigorously. “I don’t want to.”
A sad smile barely touched her sister’s face. “I know.”
The warmth vanished. Her weight, disappeared.
Hana stumbled forward, hands grasping at nothing. Her knees crashed back to the ground; a pain incomparable to the aching void gnawing at her heart. Nails dug into grassen earth, a broken sound translating into something akin to a trembling gasp.
She’s gone.