"I don't know."
The two of them were sitting far too close—at least, far too close for Haruki. The faint breeze carried the scent of wisteria all throughout the Butterfly Mansion's garden, but the fragrance on Shinobu's body was even more concentrated than the wisteria blooming around them. It was overwhelming in its proximity.
He shifted back a fraction, more instinct than thought. He didn't understand why proximity felt so strange—like his body was reacting to something his mind couldn't grasp.
Shinobu noticed immediately. Her smile widened, and she stood gracefully, walking to the nearest wisteria cascade. She plucked a single flower and turned back to him with mischief in her eyes.
Before he could react, she placed the purple blossom on top of his head.
Haruki sat perfectly still, his clear eyes gazing at her calmly. The flower caused a dull ache where it touched, but he didn't move to remove it. He showed no annoyance or anger, as if the discomfort was simply information to process.
Shinobu straightened and sighed, slightly exasperated.
"Haruki, you won't be popular with girls if you're always so boring like this, you know"
Haruki remained unmoved by her teasing. He didn't understand what being "popular" meant or why it should matter to him.
"No... need," he said simply. Then, after a pause, "So... what is the flower's meaning?"
"Wisteria has many meanings~" Shinobu sat back down beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. She turned to look at him, her head tilted in that observant way of hers. "Let me think... youth, love, and perseverance, for one."
She paused, her voice becoming softer. "Love that transcends death."
Another pause, her eyes watching his face carefully. "And... intoxicating romance. Lingering longing."
Her smile turned slightly teasing again. "Which one of these resonates most with Haruki?"
Haruki looked out at the field of wisteria flowers, the purple cascades swaying gently in the breeze. Youth. Love. Perseverance. Romance. Longing. Every single meaning Shinobu had listed seemed to revolve around that one concept—love. But the word held no significance for him.
He turned to look at Shinobu, genuine confusion in his eyes.
"Love... what is it? I don't... understand."
The question came so innocently that Shinobu felt a pang of guilt for her teasing. This boy—this demon—who had lost his memory, who lived alone in a dilapidated house, who somehow retained enough humanity to help people even after his transformation... His family was likely already gone. Dead, perhaps at the hands of the demon who'd turned him. And here she was, asking him about love as if it were a game.
Well truth to be told she was just trying to get a reaction out of him like she does with Giyu but she hadn't expected him to turn her playful question into something so difficult to answer. Love. What was love? Could she even answer that herself? After losing her parents, after watching her sister die, after filling herself with rage and the desire for revenge disguised as a smile—did she still understand love?
Shinobu thought for a long time before speaking.
"There are many kinds of love, Haruki." Her voice became gentler, instructive. "The affection between family members. The friendship between friends. And the love between lovers, which is different still."
She glanced at him. "They're all love, but they feel different. They mean different things."
Family. Friends. Lovers. Haruki processed each word. But regardless of definitions, the conclusion was the same.
"None," he said quietly. "I have... none of those."
The words weren't bitter or sad. Simply factual. But somehow that made them worse.
Shinobu's hand moved without conscious thought. She reached out and placed it gently on Haruki's head, feeling the softness of his blond hair. It was surprisingly silky. She couldn't help but stroke it a few times.
Haruki tensed slightly but didn't pull away. He simply sat there, puzzled but not uncomfortable enough to reject it.
Something about the touch felt like an echo of familiarity, as if someone had done this before in a time he couldn't remember.
A gentle breeze swept through the garden. Haruki's eyes closed slowly as Shinobu continued patting his head with an oddly soothing rhythm.
With his eyes closed, his demeanor changed completely. He looked like a well-behaved child, peaceful and unguarded. When his eyes were open, there was always detachment—like watching the world from behind glass. Even when indifferent, he maintained subtle tension, constantly on guard.
But now that guardedness melted away.
Shinobu found herself studying his face. His eyelashes were surprisingly long, casting faint shadows on his cheeks. She blinked, startled by her own observation. Why was she noticing that?
Usually at this time of day, she'd be in her laboratory, researching new poisons or developing antidotes. She certainly wouldn't be sitting in a corridor, petting a demon's head no less, while watching him doze in the shadows. When had she become so idle? When had she allowed herself this kind of... leisure?
She tried to reason it away. She didn't have much contact with boys in her daily life—most of her time was spent with her watching over the others at Butterfly Mansion or working alone. This was simply curiosity about an unusual specimen. Scientific interest. Nothing more.
But even as she formed these logical explanations, heat crept up her neck and settled in her cheeks. The warmth made her want to flee, to retreat to the familiar safety of her laboratory where everything made sense and emotions could be set aside.
Shinobu patted Haruki's head one final time, perhaps a bit more firmly than necessary.
"Okay! Haruki, I need to go now. You can do whatever you want, but remember to stay in the shadows."
Her voice came out higher than usual, more rushed. She stood quickly.
Haruki opened his eyes, that calm expression returning. He nodded slightly.
Shinobu walked away faster than normal, disappearing around the corner.
Haruki watched her hurried figure vanish. Did she have something urgent? He didn't think much of it.
He prepared to stand and return to his room. The sun was getting higher, and the shadows were shrinking. But as he moved, something purple caught in the corner of his vision. The wisteria flower Shinobu had placed on his head slipped from his shoulder and began to fall. His hand moved instinctively, catching it before it fell.
He stared at the delicate blossom in his palm.
The flower meanings echoed in his mind. Youth. Love. Perseverance. Love that transcends death. Romance. And that last one—what was it?
Lingering longing.
A strange ache bloomed inside him. His fingers loosened involuntarily, and the fragile flower fell to the floor. His hand rose to clutch at his chest, gripping the fabric tightly. His heart thudded—loud, dull, like a drum inside his ribs. The sensation was unsettling. Foreign.
He didn't like this feeling. It made his heart feel like it belonged to someone else, like it was responding to something beyond his control or understanding.
Longing. Longing for what? For whom?
Why did his heart hurt so much?
After several minutes of careful breathing, The sun climbed higher, and the shadows that had sheltered him began to shrink further. It was approaching noon—the most dangerous time of day for him.
Haruki stood quickly and left while shadows still provided safety, the fallen wisteria forgotten behind him.
. . . . . . . . . .
"Hoo—"
Shinobu exhaled slowly, pressing against the Courtyard wall. Her heart still beat faster than normal, warmth lingering in her cheeks.
'What the hell is wrong with me? Get a grip, Shinobu.'
'Haruki didn't notice anything, right? He seems oblivious. He shouldn't have noticed.'
But even as she tried to reassure herself, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered doubts. She shouldn't have left so quickly. That hurried retreat had been practically an admission of... of what, exactly? Embarrassment? Flustered feelings? That was ridiculous. She was a Hashira. She didn't get flustered by something as simple as patting someone's head.
Shinobu felt annoyed with herself. At least Haruki really was hopelessly dull-witted. Normally that irritated her, but right now she was grateful for it. She doesn't know how much of a headache that same head will cause her in the future.
She needed to focus on something else.
Her thoughts abruptly halted when she noticed a familiar figure standing in the courtyard ahead—a girl wearing a light pink kimono, black hair tied into a side ponytail. A butterfly perched delicately on her fingertip. Her pinkish-purple eyes followed its movements with a quiet serenity, though there was a faint loneliness beneath the calm surface.
"Kanao," Shinobu called gently.
The butterfly fluttered away as the girl turned. She walked toward Shinobu with her usual light steps. "Master."
Kanao was a child Shinobu and Kanae had rescued. Her unfortunate childhood had created her silent personality. Only Shinobu could reliably get responses from her. Usually Kanao decided whether to reply to others by tossing a coin.
"How's your training going recently?"
"I'm practicing what Master taught me."
"Good. But Kanao, you should talk to other people more. It's not healthy to keep going like this." Shinobu reached up and rubbed Kanao's head affectionately.
The moment she touched Kanao's hair, an image flashed—her hand on Haruki's head, the softness of his blond hair, how peaceful he'd looked.
Shinobu's hand stopped abruptly.
"Master?"
Kanao's questioning voice pulled her back to the present. Shinobu blinked and resumed patting her student's head.
"Sorry, I was just... thinking about something."
But that brief distraction had reminded her of something important. She needed to tell Kanao about Haruki. Kanao's eyes were different from ordinary people's—she possessed exceptional dynamic vision that allowed her to perceive things others missed. If she encountered Haruki without warning and recognized him as a demon, she would likely draw her blade and attack him immediately. That couldn't be allowed to happen for now.
"Kanao," Shinobu said. "Sit with me for a moment."
The girl obeyed without hesitation, settling beside her.
"Kanao," Shinobu began, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "I brought back a demon named Haruki, and he's currently living here in the Butterfly Mansion."
Kanao's eyes widened ever so slightly—which for her was the equivalent of shocked surprise. Master brought back a demon? And placed him in the Butterfly Mansion? If other members of the Corps discovered this, the lightest punishment would be removal from her position as Hashira. At worst, she could be charged with seppuku. Why would Master take such a risk?
And more than that—Master, who dedicated herself to killing demons, who had lost her sister to demons, who smiled while harboring such rage... that same Master had chosen not to kill a demon? That was perhaps even more shocking than the act of bringing him here.
"I don't plan to tell Master Ubuyashiki about this for now," Shinobu continued. "If the other Hashira knew, they'd kill him on sight."
She paused. "I want to learn more about this demon. With him, I should be able to develop new methods to deal with other demons. And perhaps..."
Her voice softened. "Perhaps I can understand what my sister was pursuing. What she believed."
At the mention of Kanae, Kanao felt a familiar ache in her chest—that hollow feeling that never quite went away. The person who had pulled her from the depths of despair, who had given her a name, who had taught her Flower Breathing technique, who had treated her with such gentleness... that person was gone.
When Kanae died, everyone else had cried. But Kanao couldn't. She stood there dry-eyed and empty, hating herself for her inability to express the grief that was suffocating her heart. Even though Shinobu had comforted her, told her it was alright, Kanao still hated herself for that.
"I understand, Master," Kanao said quietly. If this was what Master needed, then she would support it without question.
Shinobu smiled at her, genuine warmth in her expression. "The Final Selection will be in a few months. You need to work hard and prepare, but remember to always be careful. Don't take unnecessary risks."
"Yes, Master."
After exchanging a few more words, Shinobu stood and returned to her laboratory, leaving Kanao alone on the bench.
Kanao sat in silence, watching clouds drift overhead.
A thought formed in her mind: Shinobu was becoming more and more like her sister Kanae used to be.