きつね

and i’m wondering if suo refuses to eat because he’d feel guilty. because why should he have everything he needs when the people he’s responsible for don’t?

everyone has glasses but him?

he’s the only one halfway turned away in the sunset resort official art?

and why is he the only one with bandages?

i would LOVE to have more people!! https://discord.gg/GJc8EzueD come join us!!

“Did you know, Nirei-kun…” Suo hasn’t even finished his sentence, and Nirei is already furrowing his brows like a disappointed mother. Suo, with a barely-perceptible huff of laughter, continues. “Morning glories bloom every morning. However, their petals always close by noon.” Mischief plays with the curl of his lips. “Did you think I was going to say something else?”

Nirei sighs, though his expression softens into a sort of affectionate fascination, honeyed eyes bright with wonder as they follow the trellis of morning glories that strew like bruises. Instead of entertaining Suo’s remark, he says, “You know a lot about flowers, Suo-san.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

Nirei tilts his head toward Suo, eyeing him sidelong. The sunset ignites his classmate’s silhouette, the red in his hair and the red in his eye, always so soft and kind. It sharpens the shadows that cut across his face, and Nirei cannot tell if it is that harsh light or if it is truly forlorn that is etched onto his delicate features. It is almost as if he is grieving, and Nirei wants to take the seeds of that sadness and plant them so something beautiful, something full of color, will blossom in its place.

He cannot help but recall when the three of them – himself, Suo, and Sakura – helped a fashionable elderly couple (who compared Nirei’s hair to mimosas), and Suo explained the words that flowering dogwood speak in hanakotoba. 

“Do I seem indifferent to you?”

Nirei supposes that flowers are more than what meets the eye, and like everything in this world, there is a light and darkness to explore. Perhaps that is what compels him to ask, “What else do you know about morning glories?” 

Suo, seemingly entranced, does not look at him. They have been staring at these flowers for at least five minutes, so there must be something else about them – some hidden meaning, a secret message, that only Suo can decipher. It must be special, because otherwise, they would still be on their way to school. After all, they pass by these flowers daily. What makes them so particularly interesting today?

“Well, since they’re only open for so long, they symbolize the fleeting nature of life.” Suo tenderly brushes his knuckles against the indigo petals, and now, Nirei is certain that the lighting has nothing to do with the deep-seated sadness in Suo’s eye. “They remind us to cherish each and every moment.

And maybe it is because Nirei cannot stand to see that sadness on the face of his best friend, his mentor. Maybe it is as simple as curiosity. But Nirei asks, “If I was a flower, what flower would I be?”

Suo smiles.

And Nirei realizes that sadness in Suo’s eye was the most honest expression he has ever made.

. . .

Nirei’s vision fades with the retreating thump of Suo’s footsteps. He couldn’t stop him. And he can’t help but think,

I was the morning glory.

Sun Fei’s smile is a wistful little thing. It does not reach his eye; not even the blood orange incandescence from the nearby dēnglóng reaches that dark-as-night husk. But the boy has always been like that – shrouded in the shadows of mystery, with an eye that takes more than it gives, and a tongue that twists words into lies and half-truths, insults and nonsense disguised as riddles. 

That is why he is the one officer of Red Chanpuru that is never questioned. 

And that is why his brothers do not ask him what he means when he says that he can hear the wind’s voice; when he says, from a view that overlooks all of Bankoku-gai’s bustling streets, that he can see the past, the present, and the future. That is why they pretend that they do not see the lone elm leaf abandoned on the porch railing, the very leaf that, just moments ago, Sun Fei seemed to inspect between his fingertips with that same lifeless curl to his near-colorless lips. 

But Nirei always asked questions. 

“Your name is Suo, isn’t it?” a boy with a freckled nose and hair like mimosas states rather than asks, sweaty hands clutching a miniature notebook and pen. 

Sun Fei smiles. “Yup! That’s what everyone around here calls me.” A half-truth. It’s easier than a blatant lie; though, it would be easier to avoid any more questions altogether. “And before you ask about this thing,” he starts, gesturing to his floral-patterned leather eyepatch, “I’m only wearing this to keep an ancient Chinese spirit sealed in my right eye.”

Nirei’s polite smile falters. “I thought it was because of a past injury…”

“Yup!” Sun Fei chirps. “Or what’s what everyone around here says.”

And, perhaps, the first truth – a full truth, this time – that escaped Sun Fei’s lips was just how much that pissed him off.

“You’re always like this, Nirei-kun,” Sun Fei starts, every word a knife he plunges into Nirei’s chest. “You’re always questioning everything.” His name. His right eye. His ‘weakness.’ He takes those knives and twists them. “And that has always pissed me off.” 

At the same time…

“I’m just a guy who happened to be in your class.”

…as he twisted those knives over…

“We haven’t even known each other for a year.”

…and over…

“We aren’t anything.”

…as those knives became his fists, sharp and brutal…

He knew that Nirei, his face a swollen mass of bluish-purple and dark red, would look at him – into an eye that has never, ever given anything to anyone – through his tears, through the pain…

“Aren’t we friends?”

Sun Fei laughed because he knew what would happen. The sound was not a mockery, but something endearing; if he were mocking anyone in that moment, it would have been himself. Because from the very beginning, Sun Fei knew that Hayato would have to disappear one day. That Hayato would have to leave Bofurin in order for Sun Fei, an officer of Red Chanpuru, to return home. 

But Sun Fei no longer knows what home is. 

He no longer knows what name to call himself, if he even deserves a name. He is not human – just an idea, a thing sloppily put together without anywhere to go.

Bound by blood, he is nothing but what he is told he should be. 

a collection of thoughts, writing, and headcanons for my fanfic!

Sickle cell disease (SCD) is extremely rare in Japan; newborns aren't routinely screened for the condition because of this. There are three main types of SCD: HbSS (severe), HbSC (moderate), and hemoglobin S beta-thalassemia (variable in severity). Sun Fei was diagnosed with HbSC - the second most common form. While typically less severe than HbSS, it's more likely to affect the retina (the back of the eye), sometimes resulting in proliferative sickle cell retinopathy (PSCR).

PSCR is characterized by neovascularization (abnormal blood vessel growth) of the peripheral retina, and can lead to a vitreous hemorrhage. In advanced cases, it can also cause a tractional retinal detachment.

Sun Fei was born and raised in Bankoku-gai. With it being a culturally diverse cosmopolitan, his ancestors likely passed down the sickle cell trait, allowing the disease to manifest in Sun Fei.

Because Sun Fei’s parents were neglectful, he was taken in by Lanfen, a master of mixed martial arts; that’s how he was introduced to the Red Chanpuru and ultimately made to be an officer due to being a martial arts prodigy.

Following an injury to his right eye that almost cost Sun Fei his life, due to his condition, Lanfen brought Sun Fei to Makochi. In order to avoid anyone finding him, or knowing his true identity, Sun Fei became Suo Hayato; he would live peacefully in a dojo with his master and brothers.

That is, until the Red Chanpuru would find him, and take him back.

୨🫖୧┇ Suo really is on a diet. He has to limit sodium, saturated fats, and sugar intake. He also needs to eat smaller, more frequent meals - lots of fruits and vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins.

୨🫖୧┇ Similarily to what Suo taught Nirei, Suo's fighting style is meant to protect himself and others while incapacitating his opponents. He can't risk being hurt.

୨🫖୧┇ Dehydration, infections, extreme cold/heat, low oxygen levels, physical exertion, and fatigue can all trigger a pain crisis; Suo's careful to stay hydrated and regulate his body temperature (which his Chinese-styled clothes help with a lot). He "doesn't sweat much" because he's scared of what will happen when he finally has to push himself.

୨🫖୧┇ Suo isn't supposed to have caffeine either, but he still helps himself to his favorite teas. And of course, he can't resist enjoying one or two tea cakes with them.

୨🫖୧┇ Suo smells like pear and freesia.

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There's a gray-blue line where the sky and sea meet; it glistens like a band of diamonds, and that's perhaps the clearest thing Suo sees. Underneath the scintillating sheen of those ever-rolling waves, he realizes that the ocean simply cannot decide what color it wants to be. The sun says it is green but the clouds say that it is blue - a deep gray-blue, just like that line. But Suo adores its indecision, even more so when the sun is a sliver of light peering over that gray-blue line, and the surface of the ocean becomes a mirror for the sky; all those blues and greens wash into a soft periwinkle that then washes into an even softer, lighter blue before frothing over onto the sun-bleached shores. It is so indecisive that when the sun sets and ignites the shimmering surface, it cannot choose between fiery magenta or a deeper, opaque blue to reflect the darkening sky. But Suo loves it. All of it.

And there's a very distinct sound as well that Suo loves. It is like a hushed lullaby as the sea, quiet and endless, rolls along the beach.

And there's a very distinct, very pleasant feeling when he meets the tide - and it meets him too - and it leaves cool, wet kisses between his toes. He loves the lingering froth, white and bubbly, and the blanket of seafoam it wraps around his bare feet.

The sky drips with color, ultra-blue melting into the sea. Suo squints. His eyes sting. Everything is so bright; the glittering sheen over the ocean explodes, and his vision bursts with blinding white light. Then there's pressure all around, a sudden rushing in his ears that makes him feel trapped underwater, and he's helpless against it. He grinds his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. He's being crushed. He's sure of it. Every bone in his body cracks and breaks.

…

A hum, not a whisper.

"...sent another round of morphine..."

The sunlight is in his veins now. It's warm and surprisingly soft. There's no pressure here; he imagines he is adrift at sea, lost in that gray-blue line.

"He's stable. Keep an eye on his vitals."

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@star4revenge thank you so much for this artwork of sakura and my sickle cell suo! and thank you for being his biggest fan ^^