Chapter Text
“Hi, Tomioka-san.”
The boy turned, his expression unreadable. “Kochou.”
Her eyes were warm. The kind that never demanded, only offered. A serene smile curved her lips as she stepped closer, tilting her head slightly, studying him with quiet curiosity.
“Indeed,” she said. “I’d like to get to know you. Let’s be friends.”
He blinked once, the faintest sigh escaping him. "..."
“…You don’t talk very much, do you?”
“I don’t have anything to say.”
The girl laughed softly, the sound bright and unbothered. “That’s okay. You don't need to speak much for us to be friends.”
"I don't need friends." the boy stated bluntly, devoid of any warmth, she offered so freely.
"That seems very lonely," she replied, still unshaken by his coldness. "A Hashira shouldn't have to burden the weight of the world alone."
"..."
(She is kind but it is misplaced... especially on me.)
"There's a reason why there's five of us, right?" she adds on, "We Hashira work as a team. If you don't want to be friends, then perhaps we can be... comrades? Our camaraderie will be for the Corps."
"For the Corps?"
"Of course. You should come visit the Butterfly Mansion sometimes. It's quiet there. If you're ever injured. I'll tend to it personally."
"I shouldn't be getting injured in the first place."
"And what if you do?"
"... I'll visit you."
The garden's wisteria fragrance hangs heavy in the air, its sweetness tangled with the sharp, earthly scent of medicinal herbs. Kneeling in the Butterfly Mansion’s sun-drenched herb garden, Shinobu tugged at a stubborn weed. dirt streaking her uniform. She dusted her small hands, frowning.
(Will I ever grow tall enough?)
The frustration is a familiar ache in her chest.
Knock, Knock, Knock.
Her sister’s gentle voice drifts from the infirmary window: “Shinobu? Could you get the gate?”
"Hai."
She scrambles up, wiping her hands on her uniform, the lingering resentment momentarily forgotten. With her small arms, she grips the ring pull and open the gate.
"Welcome to the—" The rehearsed greeting dies on her lips as shock jolts through her. A young man, tall and lean, stands rigidly. His black hair is messy, falling over eyes the color of deep, still water. He wears a mismatched haori. One side carmine red, the other a green and yellow geometric pattern.
But it’s the shoulder that steals her breath. A deep, ugly gash tears through the fabric of his uniform beneath the haori. Blood, dark and wet, has soaked through a crude, hastily applied bandage, spreading like a morbid blossom across the crimson cloth. The bandage is slipping, revealing angry, inflamed edges of torn flesh.
Under his left eye is a small cut, barely missing the intended target. And yet… his expression is utterly blank. No grimace, no sign of pain, just that unnerving, silent stare fixed somewhere past her head. He doesn’t even seem to register her presence properly.
Her mouth opens, a sharp retort forming, Who are you? What idiot bandaged that? Why aren’t you screaming? but the words die before they leave her lips, choked by the sheer wrongness of his stillness amidst such a wound.
Her hands instinctively clench in a surge of furious disbelief.
(His pallor... He looks like a corpse! Like- Like he already bled out or something and I'm staring at a ghost!)
Before she can unleash her indignation, Kanae is there. A soft rustle of fabric, the calming scent of wisteria and chamomile that always clung to her sister. She steps beside Shinobu, her presence instantly softening the tension radiating from the doorway. Her warm violet eyes sweep over the young man, concern deepening in their depths.
"Tomioka-san," Kanae greets. "Welcome. You found your way." She moves past Shinobu without hesitation, her focus entirely on the injured man. "That looks quite severe. Come inside immediately."
"Neesan... you know this guy?" Shinobu stares, dumbfounded. Tomioka-san? She’d never heard the name. And yet her sister spoke it like it was something familiar. The unfairness of it burned in her chest.
"I do and he has a name, Shinobu." she nods, glancing back, her tone shifting to the firm instruction from a Hashira, "Please prepare the examination room. Hot water, clean cloths, my suture kit, and the strongest antiseptic we have. From the third cabinet, fetch the blue poppy extract tincture too."
"..." With a last, bewildered glare at the impassive face of the strange, Tomioka. Shinobu turns on her heel, stomping back down the hallway towards the infirmary, her small fists clenched. Irritation warred with professional urgency.
The infirmary smells sharply of antiseptic and the coppery tang of fresh blood. Shinobu sets the tray of supplies down with more force than necessary. Kanae is carefully peeling away the last of the blood-sodden bandage from Giyuu’s shoulder, revealing the wound in full. It’s deep, angry, the edges ragged.
He sits on the wooden chair, stripped to the waist. His posture is rigid, spine straight, head slightly bowed. Muscles corded in his neck and arms speak of tension, but his face… his face is a mask of chilling indifference.
Kanae probes the inflamed flesh gently with her fingertips, and Shinobu watches, fascinated and horrified, as he doesn’t flinch. The pain must be excruciating, yet his breathing remains steady. She turns away, busying herself with organizing the suture kit with unnecessary vigor, her back to them. But her ears strain.
"Tomioka-san." Kanae murmurs, her voice soft but insistent, dipping a cloth into the steaming antiseptic water Shinobu brought. “This is deep. You’ve lost a lot of blood. What happened? This wasn’t just a patrol encounter.”
“It was Upper Ranked Five. He got away before sunrise. I saved all that I could.”
Shinobu's head whips around, eyes wide. That low, flat voice... she hadn’t expected him to speak at all, let alone to utter something so… monumental.
Fighting an Upper Kizuki alone and surviving? It should inspire awe. Instead, a fresh wave of irritation prickles under her skin.
(He sounds so… matter-of-fact. Like facing a Kizuki was just a common occurrence to him.)
"Anything else?" Kanae prodded, cleaning dirt, old blood and torn fabric stuck to the wound.
“He had some kind of poison Blood Demon Art. I feel paralysis lingering." he responded, his eyes tightening as he fights to control the pain.
Kanae’s eyes snap from the wound to his face, her expression tightening with urgent concern. She doesn’t hesitate. Her hand darts to the blue vial Shinobu brought. With swift, practiced movements, she fills a hollow needle, taps out the air bubble, and finds a vein in Giyuu’s uninjured arm.
"I hope you came here as fast as you could then." she murmured, "Be strong for me, Tomioka-san. This will hurt." Kanae states, her voice losing its usual softness, becoming the brisk command of the Flower Hashira. She inserts the needle smoothly.
Giyuu doesn't react to the needle's prick. His gaze remains fixed on the wall, jaw clenched. But as the potent antidote floods his system, Shinobu sees it. A subtle, involuntary tremor runs through his arm, radiating up into his neck muscles. His knuckles, resting on his thigh, whiten. His breathing hitches, just once, a sharp intake through clenched teeth before settling back into that maddeningly controlled rhythm.
Kanae watches him closely, her fingers resting lightly on his wrist, monitoring his pulse.
"Good," she murmurs, more to herself than him. "The inflammation should lessen soon." She turns her attention back to the ghastly shoulder wound, picking up soaked cloths and fresh antiseptic.
"Shinobu," she says, her voice regaining its warmth, though laced with urgency, "the suture kit, please."
Distracted from staring at the boy, Shinobu flinched and scrambles to obey. As she hands the curved needle and silk thread to her sister, her gaze flicks back to Giyuu. He's sweating now, beads of moisture forming on his temple and upper lip despite the room's coolness. The antidote is working, but it's clearly a violent process. That tremor is more pronounced.
The pain intensifies, his hand shot out, gripping his temple as his eyes fluttered shut. Struggling for control against the immense pain.
"Tomioka-san..." Kanae pauses, concern etched on her face. She places a hand on his left shoulder to steady it.
"Haah... I am fine, Kochou." he gritted out.
"Don't dismiss the pain, Tomioka-san." she chided gently.
"I've faced worse."
"Yet you are facing this now. Just a little longer, the pain will pass."
Slowly but surely, the worse of it fades, his breathing steadies once more into calmness as his eyes flutter open. Her hands on his shoulder felt like a balm against the internal war in his system. Kanae watches him carefully, taking a mental note of his condition. Giyuu doesn't meet her gaze and instead focus a particular wall.
The antidote works its magic and once she was satisfied that he was ready for the next step, she picked up the silk and needle. As she worked, she shifts the topic to something lighter and more casual.
"The wisteria in the south garden is particularly vibrant this year. The heavy rains seem to have agreed with it. Do you have a favorite flower, Tomioka-san? Or perhaps a favorite season for training? The autumn air can be quite bracing..." she asks, as she carefully thread the wound close.
"..."
Silence. Giyuu stares straight ahead, his jaw a hard line, his breathing shallow but controlled despite the tremors still wracking him. Only the slight tightening of his fingers on the edge of the examination table betrays any reaction beyond utter withdrawal. Shinobu watches, her frustration simmering into a hot, incredulous anger.
(Why does Neesan even bother? He clearly didn’t want her kindness. He didn’t want her conversation. He just wanted the wound closed so he could vanish again, bleeding internally from poison and whatever else festered inside that silent shell. Did she pity him? Or... does she like him?)
The thought that her radiant, kind sister might harbor tender feelings for this impassive, ungrateful statue made Shinobu’s stomach churn with a confusing mix of protectiveness and disgust. He didn’t deserve Neesan’s warmth. He didn’t deserve her questions about flowers. He deserved... well, he deserved the firm, almost clinical treatment Kanae was giving him now, efficient and necessary, but stripped of the kindness she offered others.
The final suture knot is tied off. Kanae carefully applies a clean bandage, her fingers gentle but efficient. As she presses the last strip of linen into place, she nudge his elbow with hers. "I am done."
"Nn.." Giyuu lets out a long, shuddering exhale. A sound Shinobu hasn't heard from him before. It’s raw relief, a crack in the impassive facade. Sweat still beads on his forehead, plastering strands of black hair to his temples, but the terrible rigidity in his posture eases fractionally.
"The effects of paralysis should fade by nightfall. But you must rest, Tomioka-san. No patrols. No straining that shoulder for at least a week." Her voice holds that firm, no-nonsense tone.
"..." he gave a curt nod.
Kanae continues, undeterred by his brevity, her gaze steady on his face: "See? Our camaraderie is just for the Corps, Tomioka-san. Who knows if you'd be able to continue fighting if you let the poison linger."
"I shouldn't need medication. It's wasteful." he let out a resigned sigh.
"Is it really wasteful though? The Water Hashira can save more lives with a healed arm than an injured one." She retorted, her voice almost teasing.
"I suppose so."
Shinobu watches this exchange like a hawk, her young face a storm cloud. That nod. That single grunt directed solely at Kanae. The way her sister's eyes lingered on his face, that specific blend of professional concern and... something softer.
(Tch... slayers die, begging for this kind of aid and he calls it wasteful? Such an ungrateful prick.)
As Kanae begins gathering the used bandages and soiled cloths, Shinobu steps forward abruptly, her small frame radiating tension. She grabs the basin of pink-tinged water before Kanae can, her movements sharp. "I'll dispose of these, Neesan," she says, her voice clipped, higher than usual. "You should... you should rest too. You've been working hard."
"Thank you, Shinobu." her smile creasing upward at the thoughtful aid from her dear younger sister. Watching her walk off, Kanae tilts her head slightly, letting out an noise of discomfort at how... tense Shinobu looked.
(What's happening?)
Shinobu resolved herself as she slides the shoji screen open. She couldn't stop Kanae from being kind, but she could at least try to minimize the time spent in his infuriating presence. She needed to protect her sister from this mistake, this... this Tomioka guy. Even if Kanae didn't realize she needed protecting yet.
(When is this guy going to leave?)
She pondered, washing her hands from handling contaminated resources.
As she walked into the infirmary. She froze, mouth agape at the horrific sight.
Kanae... her hand is gripping Giyuu's face, keeping him absolutely still. She murmurs low, words too quiet for Shinobu to catch: "...pupillary response normal... tracking appears unimpaired... but residual toxin fatigue evident in the sclera..."
Giyuu’s eyes were wide at the close proximity. It’s not fear, but stark surprise, a crack in the stoic armor Shinobu had thought impenetrable. He holds perfectly still, rigid under her scrutiny, his breath held.
Kanae chuckles softly, a warm, familiar sound that somehow makes it worse. "You slowed the circulation well, Tomioka-san." she whispers as she she leans even closer, inspecting the fine capillaries around his eyes. "Just ensuring the paralysis toxin didn't linger in the cranial nerves. Deeply unpleasant stuff."
But to Shinobu, watching frozen in the corner, it’s an intimate tableau carved from betrayal. The closeness! The touch on his face! The whispering! They’re practically nose-to-nose! Her own breath hitches, trapped in her throat. Her knuckles are bone-white against the supply tray she clutches. This proves it. All her simmering suspicions erupt into a volcanic certainty.
(They're.. they're about to... Neesan. This is what she was talking about? Love, marriage, and finding a husband... all whimsy dreams but... HIM?! How long? Months? Years? Is this why Neesan always seemed so serene lately? Had she been sneaking around? Keeping secrets? From ME? HOW COULD SHE?!)
The scream builds in Shinobu’s chest, a pressure so intense it threatens to crack her ribs. It claws its way up her throat, raw and furious, fueled by childish jealousy, protective rage, and a profound sense of betrayal. She can’t hold it in. She won’t. "KANAE-NEESAN!" The shriek rips through the quiet infirmary, sharp as shattered glass. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH HIM?!"
Kanae who was slightly bent over, examining his eyes closer jerks backwards, her hand instinctively grabbing his bandaged shoulder for balance, causing Giyuu to let out a pained hiss. "KHHT!"
The motion pulls her closer for a fleeting, disastrous moment. Her cheek nearly brushing his, her body leaning precariously over his lap before she steadies herself. To Shinobu’s burning eyes, it looks like a scandalous embrace.
"Shinobu?! What in the world—?" Kanae's head whirled, lost for words at the sudden scream in the usually serene Butterfly Mansion.
"YOU!" Shinobu shrieks, her small finger stabbing accusingly towards Giyuu, tears streaming down her furious, flushed cheeks. "It's YOU! You stupid, silent, brooding jerk! You come here bleeding all over our mats, ignoring Neesan's kindness, and NOW you're trying to STEAL HER?!" Her voice rises to a hysterical pitch. "You think just because you're a Hashira you can waltz in and take her away? You think your stupid, self-sacrificing act is charming? IT'S NOT! It's PATHETIC! You'll get her KILLED! Like you almost got yourself killed! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, TOMIOKA!"
Each "I hate you" is a dagger, flung with the vicious precision only a furious child can muster. Giyuu flinches with each one, the bewildered shock on his face deepening into utter confusion. He tries to speak, his voice low and rough, struggling against the lingering effects of the poison and the sheer force of her tirade: "She was just—"
"JUST WHAT?!" Shinobu screams, cutting him off, her chest heaving. "Just whispering secrets? Just touching your face? Just about to kiss you?! Right in front of me?! HOW COULD YOU, NEESAN?!" She whirls on her sister, betrayal warping her features. "HOW COULD YOU LIKE SOMEONE LIKE HIM?! He's... he's a STATUE! A BROKEN SWORD! He doesn't smile! He doesn't talk! He just... bleeds and stares! And you deserve... you deserve..." Her voice cracks, the fury momentarily dissolving into heartbroken confusion. "...you deserve sunshine and flowers and someone who talks to you!"
She finally runs out of breath, shoulders trembling, gasping for air. The silence that follows is deafening. Giyuu sits frozen on the examination table, his face pale beneath the sweat and grime, his blue eyes wide and utterly lost. He looks like he’s been physically struck, the accusations hanging heavy in the air.
Kanae stares at her little sister, her expression shifting from stunned confusion to dawning, horrified understanding, then settling into a deep, pained sadness. She takes a slow, steadying breath, her hand still resting lightly, protectively, on Giyuu's uninjured arm.
“Kochou... can you tell her?” Giyuu suppresses a wince as he shifts further back on the chair impossibly so as if afraid Shinobu was going to lunge for him and tear him apart.
Kanae steps away from him, placing herself almost physically between Giyuu and Shinobu’s fury. She offers Giyuu a quick, apologetic bow, her voice slightly strained. "Yes. My deepest apologies, Tomioka-san. Please, try not to move; you'll tear the sutures."
Then Kanae turns fully to her sister, her expression shifting to gentle exasperation mixed with deep affection. She kneels, bringing herself down to Shinobu’s level, and wraps an arm around her trembling shoulders, pulling her close. Shinobu stiffens, refusing to bury her face in Kanae’s shoulder, keeping her furious, tear-streaked gaze locked on Giyuu over her sister’s arm.
"Shinobu," Kanae murmurs, her cheek resting against the top of Shinobu’s head, her voice a low, soothing hum that only seems to amplify Shinobu’s sense of injustice. "It was just an examination. Truly. I needed to check his neurological responses. The poison he faced… it attacks the nerves. A delayed reaction could be fatal. There’s nothing… romantic about ensuring a comrade doesn’t collapse hours later."
Shinobu scoffs, the sound wet and ragged. "Comrade?!" she spits, her voice thick with disbelief. "He doesn't act like a comrade! He acts like… like a stone! You give him kindness, care, your time! And what does he give back? Silence! He doesn't want it! Why waste it on someone who doesn't even appreciate it?!"
Kanae sighs, a weary sound heavy with the weight of trying to bridge an impossible gap. She smooths Shinobu’s hair back from her damp forehead. "Shinobu," she says, her tone firmer now, "kindness isn't a currency you spend only where it's appreciated. It's a choice you make. Especially for those who carry such heavy burdens.”
"What could possibly be so burdensome about giving a 'Thank you?'" her glare grew sharper at Giyuu's wide-eyed face. His guilty expression confirms it!
"Be gentle with him, Shinobu. You don't know what he's been through." She gently turns Shinobu’s head slightly, forcing her to look past her own anger at Giyuu, still huddled on the chair, pale and withdrawn, his gaze fixed on his own hands.
"...Your kindness is precious, Neesan." she sniffled. "It's… it's like medicine! Why pour it onto barren ground?! Just treat him and be done with it!”
"...Flowers can grow from barren grounds too." she gave a tentative smile to try and soothe her.
"Nngh." Shinobu let out a sharp huff of discomfort, undeterred by her attempts.
"He isn't good with words but... he fought Upper Ranked Five alone last night. He saved dozens of civilians, holding the demon off until sunrise forced it to flee." she points to his heavily bandaged right shoulder. "He did that while poisoned and bleeding from that terrible wound. He did it knowing the cost. Doesn't he deserve care, simply because he needs it? Simply because he breathes and bleeds for others?"
The silence stretches, thick with the lingering scent of antiseptic, Shinobu's unshed tears, and Giyuu's palpable discomfort. Shinobu processes Kanae’s words, the logic of necessity warring with the fire of her protective fury. She gives a stiff, reluctant nod. Acknowledging the duty of care, the medical necessity. But her glare, fixed on Giyuu, doesn’t soften. Not entirely convinced of their... relationship.
(I’m watching you.)
Giyuu's eyes shift down to the floor, uncomfortable from being yelled at by this ball of furious rage, only insinuated his feelings of inferiority.
(This child doesn’t respect my role as Hashira… does she know that I'm an impostor? I thought this place was supposed to be quiet.)
With an urgent sense to escape before he gets attacked, he slowly stands up. His right shoulder protesting every movement as he begins seeing himself out. "I'll be taking my leave now."
"...Tomioka-san." Kanae release herself from the embrace. She walks quickly, trying to stop Giyuu from leaving.
Before Kanae can explain his condition, Shinobu snaps, her voice dripping with icy sarcasm. "Oh run away, Water Hashira!" she spits the title like an insult, her gaze raking over his bandaged shoulder, his trembling hands, the sweat beading on his brow. "Not so easy to bewitch my sister and get away with it, huh?" She crosses her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. "Or have you realized already, that you'd be a burden to her and her finite love?"
"..."
Kanae sighs, a sound of profound weariness. She places a firm hand on Giyuu's good arm, preventing him from trying to leave. "You'll need to rest here," she states, her voice regaining its Hashira authority, though her eyes flicker with apology towards Shinobu. "For at least a week. The antidote needs time and your wounds haven't fully healed. You are in no condition to travel." She turns to Shinobu, her expression softening but holding an uncharacteristic sternness. "Shinobu. Enough. Fetch fresh bedding for the recovery room. The one with the window facing the wisteria. Now."
Shinobu glares, her jaw clenched. She wants to argue, to scream again. But Kanae’s tone, that specific blend of gentle command and quiet disappointment, stills her. With a final, venomous look at Giyuu, who meets her gaze for a fleeting second, his blue eyes filled with a complex mix of pain, bewilderment, and a deep, unsettling shame.
She spins on her heel and stomps out of the infirmary. The sound of her furious footsteps echoes down the hallway, leaving Giyuu alone with Kanae, the silence broken only by his shallow, ragged breathing and the distant, furious rustle of bedding being yanked from a cupboard with far more force than necessary.
Giyuu sways slightly as he stands with Kanae’s steadying arm beneath his uninjured elbow. The movement pulls at the fresh sutures, a sharp reminder of his vulnerability. He stares at the doorway Shinobu vanished through, his brow furrowed in profound, weary confusion.
Kanae sighs, the sound heavy with a complex blend of exhaustion, affection, and exasperation. She adjusts her grip on his arm, ensuring his weight isn’t straining the injured shoulder, her movements practiced and elegant despite her weariness. "I'm sorry again for my little sister... it's just she's very fierce. Like a hornet guarding its nest."
"I see."
"We picked up a little girl whose quiet like you... she sees her as someone broken, needing shelter. Someone she can shield but..." She guides him carefully around a corner, the polished wood floor cool beneath their feet.
"..."
"You... you come with wounds she cannot mend, silence she cannot decipher, and a strength that frightens her because it seems so... self-destructive. She doesn't understand it. And what Shinobu doesn't understand, she often attacks."
They reach the doorway of the designated recovery room, the one facing the wisteria grove. Inside, Shinobu is visible, her back rigid as she violently fluffs a pillow on the freshly made cot, the fabric snapping under her frustrated hands. She doesn't turn around, but her posture radiates simmering resentment as she walks off to do something else.
Kanae lowers her voice further, almost conspiratorially, as she helps Giyuu ease down onto the edge of the cot, mindful of his shoulder. "She sees you as a threat, Tomioka-san. Not to her physically, but... to the fragile peace she tries to build here. To me." Her violet eyes meet his, holding a depth of understanding and a quiet plea. "Don't take it too personally. Her venom comes from a place of fear. Fear for those she loves. It’s... misplaced, but the root is loyalty." She smooths the blanket beside him, her touch lingering for a moment.
Giyuu remains silent for a beat, then offers a barely perceptible nod. Progress. Kanae smiles faintly, a genuine warmth touching her eyes.
“Though," she adds, a flicker of her usual warmth returning, "I must admit this is the most you've talked so far. A small victory, perhaps?"
She adjusts the edge of the bandage, her touch feather-light. "It’s healing well," she murmurs, her voice a low hum in the quiet room. "The poison recedes. But physical wounds are only one kind, Tomioka-san." She pauses, gathering her courage. This was the challenge she’d set for herself .
"The others… Rengoku-san, Tengen-san… they misunderstand your quietness, I think." She keeps her gaze on her work, not wanting to intimidate him. "They see it as pride. But I wonder… is it perhaps just difficult? Finding the words?" She risks a glance up. His eyes are fixed on the swaying wisteria outside the window, but she sees the faintest tightening of his jaw, a ripple in the stillness.
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t pull away either. Kanae takes it as permission to continue, her voice gentle but persistent, like water wearing away stone. "Silence can be a heavy burden to carry alone. Especially among comrades. We fight the same darkness, bleed the same blood."
She finishes smoothing the bandage and sits back slightly, folding her hands in her lap. "You don’t have to share your thoughts with everyone. But perhaps…" She offers a small, tentative smile, the kind she reserves for coaxing frightened animals or traumatized children.
"...perhaps you could start with one? Just a word or two, now and then? To someone you don't think will judge the silence too harshly?"
Giyuu was quiet for a long time. She could see the slight concentration in his eyes as if testing the words he was going to say.
“You’re kind to me, Kochou.”
The words hang in the wisteria-scented air, soft and unexpected as a butterfly landing on stone. Kanae’s hands, which had been smoothing the edge of his bandage, still for a moment. She looks up, her violet eyes widening slightly, genuine surprise breaking through her usual serene composure. A warmth blooms in her chest, bright and undeniable.
Her smile, when it comes, isn’t the polished, placid expression she often wears. It’s softer, warmer, crinkling the corners of her eyes, reaching their depths. It transforms her face, making her look younger, less burdened.
"Kindness is simply the medicine we offer freely, Tomioka-san," she murmurs, her voice matching the rustle of the wisteria outside the window. Her fingers resume their careful work, checking the tension of the bandage, but her touch is lighter, infused with the warmth of his acknowledgment.
(Months of persistence... and now my labor finally laid fruit.)
"I must get back now. Thank you, Tomioka-san. When you've rest... perhaps, we can speak more?" She gives his uninjured arm the lightest, briefest pat. A gesture of connection, fleeting but deliberate before rising gracefully.
Giyuu gave a curt nod. He stares at her butterfly haori as she walks away.