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The first snow of winter fell silently over the Butterfly Estate, each flake a delicate promise that dissolved upon touching the earth. Giyuu stood motionless beneath the maple tree, his haori—split between crimson and patterned green—stark against the monochrome landscape. He had come without announcement, as was his way, waiting in the garden like a sentinel guarding memories rather than grounds.
"You know, most people use the front entrance," came a lilting voice behind him.
Giyuu didn't turn. He recognized Shinobu's voice, the artificial sweetness that masked the venom beneath. "I didn't want to disturb the wounded."
"How thoughtful," she replied, stepping beside him. Her white haori seemed to capture the falling snow, making her appear almost ethereal in the fading light.
They stood in silence for a moment, watching their breath cloud in the cold air between them.
"Why are you here, Tomioka-san?" Shinobu finally asked, her voice softer now, less performative. "We haven't had a Hashira meeting called."
Giyuu's gaze remained fixed on the distant mountains. "I was passing through."
"You never just 'pass through' anywhere," she countered, a hint of genuine amusement breaking through her facade. "Everything you do has purpose."
His fingers tightened imperceptibly around the hilt of his sword. "I heard you were injured during your last mission."
Shinobu's smile didn't falter, but something in her eyes hardened. "Concerned for me? How uncharacteristic."
"It's my duty to ensure the Hashira remain at full strength."
"Of course," Shinobu said, her smile never wavering though her eyes remained cold. "Always the dutiful Water Hashira."
A snowflake landed on her cheek, lingering for a moment before melting away. Giyuu found himself watching its brief existence with unexpected intensity.
"The wound was nothing," she continued, touching her side absently. "Not deep enough to concern yourself with."
"Aoi said otherwise." The words escaped before he could reconsider them.
Shinobu's eyes widened slightly, genuine surprise breaking through her carefully constructed demeanor. "You spoke with Aoi? You must have been truly worried to engage in voluntary conversation."
Giyuu turned away, his gaze sweeping across the garden. The snow was beginning to accumulate now, transforming the familiar landscape into something alien and pristine.
"The demon used poison," he stated, then continued
"She said it was a new strain."
Shinobu watched him, her expression unreadable. "And you thought I might not be able to handle it?"
"I thought you might be underestimating the danger."
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy like the falling snow. Shinobu finally broke it with a sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly.
"You worry too much, Tomioka-san," she said softly, the honeyed tone gone entirely. "But thank you. For caring, in your own way."
He didn't respond, unable to articulate the complex emotions that swirled within him. He wasn't sure "caring" was the right word. It was something more, something uncomfortable and unfamiliar that he couldn't quite grasp. All he knew was that the thought of her being vulnerable, of her intricate defenses being breached, filled him with a cold unease he had never experienced before.
A few weeks later, Giyuu was called to a remote village plagued by disappearances. It was during this mission that he heard the rumors—whispers among the other Demon Slayers about Shinobu's increasingly reckless behavior, her relentless pursuit of stronger demons, her unwavering focus on a single, unknown target.
He sought her out at the Butterfly Estate upon his return. The snows had deepened, and the air was biting cold. He found her in her laboratory, surrounded by bubbling concoctions and the pungent aroma of wisteria.
"Shinobu," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of her experiments.
She turned, her face illuminated by the eerie glow of the beakers, her eyes intense. "Tomioka-san. What brings you here?"
"I heard… things."
Her smile flickered, then settled back into its practiced place. "Rumors, I presume? People like to talk."
"They say you're pushing yourself too hard."
"And you believe them?"
"I see it." He looked at the dark circles beneath her eyes, the almost manic energy that radiated from her. "You're not sleeping."
Shinobu turned back to her work, her movements precise and deliberate. "I'm perfectly fine, Tomioka-san. Just a little… occupied."
"With what?" He pressed, unable to shake the feeling that she was headed down a dangerous path.
She paused, her hand hovering over a vial of shimmering liquid. For a moment, he thought she might confide in him, might reveal the burden she carried. But then the mask snapped back into place, and her smile widened.
"That's for me to know, and for you to find out," she said, her voice light and dismissive. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
Giyuu stood there, his fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to shake her, to demand that she stop, that she confide in him. But he knew it was futile. He was an outsider, a detached observer in her carefully constructed world. He turned and left, the weight of his helplessness settling heavily on his shoulders.
As the months passed, he noticed the subtle changes in her. She became more distant, more withdrawn, even from him. Her visits to the Hashira meetings became less frequent, her explanations vague. He saw the flicker of something dark and resolute in her eyes, a burning determination that seemed to consume her from within. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that she was preparing for something, something dangerous and irreversible.
Then came the final battle. The reports were fragmented and chaotic, filled with unimaginable horrors. But one detail stood out, a single, devastating piece of information that shattered the fragile calm he had always maintained.
Shinobu Kocho was dead.
He didn't remember the journey to her grave, the numb shock that had carried him through the days that followed. He only remembered standing before the simple stone marker, engraved with her name and the butterfly insignia of her Breathing Style. The wisteria planted beside it were bare, their branches stark against the grey sky.
For four years, he visited her grave every day. He brought no flowers, offered no prayers. He simply sat there, in silence, watching the seasons change, the wisteria slowly bloom and fade. He thought about her smile, her sharp intellect, the hidden pain that she had carried so bravely. He thought about the things he should have said, the questions he should have asked, the emotions he had suppressed for so long.
Four years after her death, the snow began to fall again, mimicking the day he saw her beneath the maple tree at the Butterfly Estate. Giyuu, now twenty-five, sat by her grave, his body worn, his spirit weary. He felt a familiar ache in his chest, a persistent cough rattling his lungs. He knew his time was near, the injuries he sustained in the final battle finally claiming their due.
He closed his eyes, imagining her standing beside him, her smile both radiant and sad. He reached out, tracing the delicate carving of the butterfly on her tombstone.
"Shinobu," he whispered, his voice hoarse and weak. "I understand now."
He understood the burden she had carried, the darkness she had embraced, the sacrifice she had made. He understood the reason she had pushed him away, the reason she had chosen to walk her path alone. He understood the emotions he had tried so hard to deny, the love that had bloomed silently in the depths of his stoicism.
He rested his forehead against the cold stone, the snow dusting his hair.
"We will meet again soon," he murmured. "And this time… this time I won't run away."
He took a final, shuddering breath, the cold seeping into his bones. His body relaxed, the tension he had carried for so long finally released. He gave one last, gentle exhaled breath before his spirit drifted free. He closed his eyes one last time and the world faded to black. Giyuu Tomioka died beside the grave of Shinobu Kocho, finally free to confess the love he had never dared to speak.