Blood and Roses

     Once the coughing started, it could not be stopped.

     Silk caressed her throat as if waiting for an invitation out through the lips. The spirit raised a hand to the side of her neck, pressing gently– no use. The feeling became more insistent, the taste of iron with it, and her lungs contracted around the flora.

     Yama bent down, still trying to keep her sickness contained inside the comfort of her own body, trapped within the same vessel that allowed her to be in love with one who could not be. Her fingers pressed harder, opposite hand going up to cover her mouth, but the coughing did not seize. She could now feel the soft touch on the side of her cheek, but she stubbornly kept her lips sealed. Now, she could feel it through the nose, her body contorting in need of air.

     Into her fingers, she finally let it out.

     It was familiar, Yama had gotten to learn, for mortals to ignore one’s suffering through the street. At first, she had been horrified about making a scene when the flowers were pulling at her breathing, wondering how she would be able to deflect answers to questions humans were just not made to understand. But the questions never came. When surrounded by the illusion of a good moment, humans would see other people's pain as an enemy to their perfect summer day. Discomfort. So, when faced with the public pain of another, they would just ignore it. Yama found it profoundly sad, but the invisibility it gave her through her supernatural curse was a blessing in disguise.

     The flowers crept up more and more frequently through the passing days, but it never got any easier. it all started with a couple of petals, the silk of a rose tinged with crimson blood. They resembled flesh, she had once thought after staring at them for a second too long, but she wasn’t sure if this cognition stemmed from reality or the flower’s source. Red looked like split meat when coming out of someone’s throat, but if that same flora had been sprouting from a garden, utterly devoid of pain, she’d be staring at just some pretty petals.

     But nothing was that simple. Nothing was devoid of pain.

     With a shaky breath, Yama pushed herself to stand back up, the handful of petals laying quiet on her palm. Once again, no one rose to help her. No one ever did.

     But she was different.

     She, of a kindness unseen for a creature as cruel as a human being. A pure soul, devoid of the selfish pest that plagued the hearts of her kind. Beautiful on the inside, and on the outside as well: short, puffed-up hair, strawberry locks framing her face. Blue eyes, always looking out for ways to raise the spirits of those around her. Rosey pink lips, blushed up at the center, hugging a smile so bright that lit up anyone who came across them.

     Rosey pink lips blushed up at the center, which Yama had fantasized about kissing so many times before.

     Another flower clogged up her airway, squeezing onto her muscles in an effort to choke the thoughts before they could spread. It wasn’t working.

     Her name was Ellie, and she was a young human woman Yama only knew from afar. A nurse in a local hospital, just a year fresh off nursing school, but caring for people as she had been born for the task.

     Knowing that she was too in the open for the wandering pedestrians, too in the open from where she was sitting just a couple meters from her spot, Yama did her best to force some distance. Wheezing through those traitorous lungs, the spirit backed tracked, feet stumbling blindly until they hit cement. One hand holding onto her throat, the other feeling her way through the wall behind her– in here, she would be hidden from view.

     Today, she had nestled into the open seat of a table, coffee made how she liked. This was a weekly occurrence, a date with a book that came every Sunday on the dot. Each week, the book she held in her hands was different, but her order was always the same: coffee, three creams, two sugars. The baristas greeted Ellie by name, and that is how Yama had heard it for the very first time.

     Who was Yama to break the sanctity of her ritual, something far more precious than gold? Yama crumbled down like a leaf onto the pavement and didn’t bother getting up. She coughed again, and again until the sounds were more wet than breathy, and a whole stem seemed to have made its way onto the roof of her mouth. There was a sharp pain that came with it, and Yama knew that a thorn had cut her flesh before she had registered the warmth of blood. Closing her eyes, she pushed through it, knowing that it was better out than in. Just had to endure it.

     The day they had met, Yama had stumbled onto the busy streets. There was a gash on her ankle, a gift given by a man who spoke no other language than death. She had been quick enough to avoid the blade hitting a nerve, but the sting was still painful enough to make it hard to walk. It was familiar, Yama had gotten to learn, for mortals to ignore one’s suffering through the street– but that night, someone had taken notice. A hand had been extended to her, and through a silent understanding, the spirit had found herself safe at the door of an emergency room.

     That woman had saved her, propped her up and nearly dragged Yama to an emergency room. All through it, with the senses so blurred by the shock of a battle, she had been spoken to but hadn’t heard a thing. When Yama came back to herself, her ankle had been bandaged, and she was in a room left to rest. Yama never managed to exchange a single word with her selfless savior. If she hadn’t thanked her then, why should she feel entitled to Ellie’s attention?

     One final cough and it was over. Yama tried her luck, a shaky breath in and one out, and found that she could finally keep the air inside her chest. The price for this lay abandoned on the floor, a matted bouquet of blood, leaves, and flowers born out of a nightmare Yama had lived through away. She closed her eyes and focused on that breathing she now had access to. If she pushed past the smell of blood and roses, there was a chance to calm herself and forget it had all happened.

     But the smell only grew stronger.

     They twisted around each other, world’s most morbid perfume, piercing through the back of her mouth. Yama scratched at her nose as if she could physically tear it away, and stumbled in the process. Once again, blood and roses, but also something else. The spirit rose up from her position, blaring alarms going off in her head. There was something else, something darker.

     She knew Husk was watching her before even daring to move a muscle to find him. There was a searing, violent screech of his claws, petrified wood, against urban pavement. It dragged on, uncaring about stealth when its mere purpose was simple: fear.

     Yama was running away before setting sight on the predator, clinging onto an early reaction. The hunt had started, and it was imperative that she kept as much distance between the both of them as she could, for as long as she could, if she had any chance to escape him unharmed. The isolation of the alleyway gave way to a sea of people traversing a summer day, with leisure steps and minor worries. Yama struggled through the current, pushing people away from her way and ignoring the indignant screeches marking her path.

     The smell was drawing stronger, past her mouth and onto the back of her throat, snaking around her senses. She was getting closer to the busiest part of the road where all the people had congregated, but so was her attacker, and Yama needed to make a decision.

     Through what she could make out over the blurs of humanity, her current path lead to three options: the forest, where she had the better chance to move without mortals getting in the way, the street, where the masses would slow Husk down as much as they slowed Yama, or the storefronts, where she could find an in-building exit that led somewhere else. Forest was too isolated, the street was too packed— storefront it is.

     As soon as her arm swung past the last body and touched air in its stead, Yama changed her course towards the nearest shop. A cheerful ding bid her welcome, prompting an employee to greet her the same. Yama didn’t even register the voice, too preoccupied with finding the nearest hall and making her way into it. Another cheerful ding, but Yama couldn’t say she shared the sentiment.

     Past the counter and to the right there was a path that connected to a set of stairs. Yama almost stumbled in the middle but managed to force herself up and through it, arriving on the second floor. There, she found a small balcony, a couple of empty tables, and a set of doors for restrooms. Maybe the restrooms? Maybe there was a small window hidden inside? Maybe she could escape through a window and climb onto the following building—?

     The doubt cost her too much time. Her feet had tried to take her towards the door, but a presence now stood blocking her path. The smell seemed to reach past her throat and into her lungs, squeezing them harder than any decease ever had.

     Silent as the place he came from, Husk was an omen of defeat. Through his mask, a wooden piece of rot and moss, his stare was piercing into every fiber of Yama’s being. That glow, the type of fluorescent purple from fungi in the dark, illuminated his every being, highlighting the sharp edges around his claws.

     Yama knew not to reason with someone who would not reply, but desperation led her lips to part, “don’t come any closer.”

     There was a creak of old wood as Husk’s neck turned, tilting his head sideways as a reaction. He seemed curious, if not confused, as to why she was resisting.

     With a small step backward, Yama tried again, “I swear, if you come any closer, I—“

     A loud crunch broke Husk’s silence, and the side of the wall was missing a chunk, Husk’s claws digging through the concrete like mere water. Yama cowarded onto herself, raising her arms to protect her face from the bits of wall that flew towards her, and brazing herself for another attack, but it didn’t happen. Husk seemed to be aware she had no way out, and in one way or another, was asking for Yama to go with him of her own volition— or, given the state of the wall, he wasn’t asking.

     Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Another step back, and suddenly Yama’s back felt a bite of cold metal— it was the railing, the one separating the balcony from the downstairs patio. Yama glanced down on instinct, fight or flight tearing at her nerves for a way out. There were regular coffee tables with guests enjoying their afternoon, there was a small water fountain with some coins at its depth, and a flower bed—

     In a flash, Husk’s claws had swept forward, trying to grasp around Yama’s torso, but she had already lept. For a second, her body was weightless, her hair and dress suspended in a moment in time when her attacker could not follow. Then she hit the flower bed, petals scattering around as she landed on the ground.

     She was a little pained, her torso scratched, but mainly unharmed and very much alive. Yama’s mouth was forced open to get a breath of air as the impact rumbled through her, and this time around, the smell of the hunt was gone. Instead, call it a blessing or curse, was the smell of the blood on her side and roses around her– a familiar enemy, but familiar nonetheless. There was a commotion happening around her, all the people previously drinking their coffee were disturbed by the sudden body falling from the floor. Yama’s ears were deaf to it. Instead, all she could do was look up, up at the place where she had been just a couple seconds ago, and up at the place where Husk stood. Their eyes met, crimson over violet, and Husk looked angrier than she’d ever seen him.

     And then he left. Finally, Yama relaxed, closing her eyes, allowing the shock to slowly melt from her body. She had made the right decision– this was too much of a commotion for Husk to chase her through, in fear of disturbing the human’s sense of peace. Little by little, she became more aware of her surroundings, a couple of people calling emergency services, some the police, and one voice roaring over the discord:

     “Don’t worry, I’m a nurse!”

     When Yama opened her eyes again, like an angel descending from the heavens, she was standing next to her.