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The doorbell rang just as Shinobu dismissed Kanao from the day’s training.
Curiosity nagged at Shinobu’s skin—it had been a while since the Hashira training commenced, and since then, since the slayers no longer had missions to attend to, the number of patients the Butterfly Estate received dwindled greatly. She wasn’t expecting a guest, either, at this time of night. If this were Iguro Obanai hauling poor Inosuki to prod at his unusual organ arrangement, Shinobu fussed as she sauntered to answer the door—if this were Iguro Obanai, Shinobu swore she’d turn him away and tell him to—
Shinobu opened the door, and all thoughts dissipated.
There, underneath the porch light, Kanroji Mitsuri stood. Bright and lovely and just as beautiful as ever, with her hair pinned up in a bun instead of her usual braids.
“Ah—Shinobu!” Mitsuri greeted her, her face beaming. “Hi! How are you!”
Shinobu settled into a comfortable smile, one that she didn’t have to force. Seeing Mitsuri had a way of coaxing it out of her. “Kanroji,” she greeted back. “I’m well. Are you alright?”
“Yes!” Mitsuri nodded enthusiastically. A flicker of realization flitted by her face, and she shook her head. “Wait—no! Is, uh… Is your infirmary still open?”
Shinobu nodded. “Always.”
“I injured my right hand,” Mitsuri grinned. “I was hoping you could take a look at it?”
Well, say no more. Shinobu opened the door wider and stepped aside to let Mitsuri in.
All patients are always welcome here, of course, and Shinobu knew she wasn’t supposed to have favorites—but Kanroji Mitsuri had always been a special guest. She greeted the Estate like it was an old friend; she stroked the furniture as a silent hello, the cedar gliding smoothly beneath her fingers; she touched the bud of the orchid gently, caressing its petals with care. She waved at Kanao when the girl peeked curiously from a doorframe, and she was instantly welcomed by Naho, Sumi, and Kiyo, who came barrelling at her as soon as she set foot in the infirmary.
“Mitsu-san!” they greeted, to which Mitsuri responded with delighted giggles and kisses to the crowns of their head.
“Girls!” Mitsuri cooed. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!”
Shinobu’s heart warmed at the sight—something she didn’t even know it could still do. She relished it as she fetched the first-aid kit and dragged a chair to the front of the bed where Mitsuri sat.
“Say, Shinobu, would it be possible for the girls to come to my training next?” Mitsuri asked. “No hard exercises, of course—I just think they’d look so cute in my special training outfits!”
“If they’re happy to be kidnapped by you,” Shinobu replied as she sat down. “Then, of course.”
“We’re happy!” Kiyo squealed. “Kidnap us, Mitsu-san!”
Naho nodded in agreement. “Yes, please, Mitsu-san! You have bees, don’t you!”
Mitsuri beamed. “Mhm! And honey!”
“And honey!” Sumi gasped, her eyes sparkling. She looked at Shinobu, asking for permission, as if Shinobu hadn’t granted it already.
Shinobu couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, it’s alright. We’ll talk about the details later!” she promised. “Now, can we have some space, please?”
After a chorus of yes, ma’am! and a quick group hug with Mitsuri, promising that they would make the journey once Kanao and Aoi are aware of this arrangement, the three girls retreated to the hallways. Shinobu waved them goodnight as they shut the door.
A comfortable silence fell over them. Time to begin her examination, Shinobu thought.
“Now, Kanroji,” Shinobu called as she dragged her chair closer.
Mitsuri sat up straighter. “Yes!”
“May I see your hand, please?”
Mitsuri obliged and held out her hand. Shinobu took it.
Mitsuri’s hand was as soft as it always was, save for the few callouses that littered her fingertips. It was a marvel in this line of work. Shinobu was so used to sending people hydrating ointment and moisturising cream to keep their skin from cracking due to dehydration, but Mitsuri didn’t need any of it, it seemed.
She was such a good patient too, Shinobu noted—humming pleasantly as Shinobu dragged her thumb across the palm, checking if there was any sign of internal fracture or dislocation. She then prodded Mitsuri’s wrist, trying to see if it hurt—perhaps Mitsuri had sprained it from all the wrist-work her technique required of her—only for Mitsuri to keep on humming her song.
Very curious.
“Kanroji,” Shinobu called.
“Yes!”
“May I know the details of how you injured your hand, and where, exactly, it hurts?”
“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Mitsuri said. A blush crept on her face. “I, uh. Fell down the stairs. Fell on my hand. Hand first, you know, because I went whoosh then kablam! onto the pavement, and I tried to… To catch the ground? Catch myself? I just… I toppled on top of my hand, and it… uh. It broke?”
Shinobu knew broken hands, and this wasn’t it.
Hm.
Shinobu dragged her chair closer and massaged Mitsuri’s hand again.
“Does this hurt?” Shinobu asked. There was a scar on her wrist, Shinobu noticed—she’d place a band-aid over it once she figured out the bigger problem.
“Uh… Yes?” Mitsuri hesitantly answered. “Should it?”
Shinobu suppressed her giggles and decided to play Mitsuri’s game. She had time, anyway, and it was quite comfortable here. She looked up at Mitsuri, who was already looking at her, the green brilliant in this dimly-lit room, and—oh, Heavens have mercy—they were even prettier up close. They crinkled when they met Shinobu’s, see—there was light dancing in it—reflections, from the one desk lamp nearby that looked like fire within the pupil—and her eyelashes fluttered when Shinobu pinched a section of her skin—
Focus, Shinobu chided herself, though she didn’t have it in her to tear her gaze away. Be professional, damn it.
“And how about this?” Shinobu tightened her fingers around Mitsuri’s and stretched them. “Does it hurt?”
“Oh—ooow!” Mitsuri faked a howl. “Yes, that hurts! I think that’s where it broke…”
“Really?” Shinobu asked, amused. Yes, she was sworn to believe every and any ailment her patient might have; she must never ever doubt them, for every injury matters and should be attended to; she should never toy with them, or their feelings, or their condition—but it was quite amusing to watch Mitsuri feign woes under her gaze.
Did Mitsuri not realize that Shinobu was a trained doctor who had more than her fair share of broken bones? What was she playing at?
Shinobu pressed on and folded Mitsuri’s hand completely. “So this hurts?”
“Yes—”
Shinobu opened Mitsuri’s palm and traced it, all the way to her fingertips. “How bad does it hurt, Kanroji?” Shinobu asked. She intertwined their fingers together and pressed on Mitsuri’s knuckle, flattening Mitsuri’s palm against her own. “When I do this. On a scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt, hm? Describe it to me.”
Mitsuri gulped loudly, her face bright red. Her eyes fell to their entwined hands, then to Shinobu’s eyes, then to Shinobu’s lips, then—
“I’m sorry!” she burst out, toppling forward and burying her face in the blades of Shinobu’s shoulder. “I lied! I’m sorry!”
Shinobu laughed. There was a flutter deep in her chest, but she ignored it. It would die when she took another dose of wisteria poison later that night.
“Is there something going on, Kanroji?” Shinobu asked, rubbing her thumbs along Mitsuri’s knuckles. She bumped her cheek on the side of Mitsuri’s head. “You don’t usually come here—”
“And that’s the problem!” Mitsuri huffed out, her breath warm on Shinobu’s neck. When she leaned away, her bangs were messy and her face was still bright red. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Gosh, Shinobu. I really miss being here.”
“You know you’re always welcome here—no need to fake broken hands,” Shinobu said. She got up from her chair. “I’ll call the girls—”
“No!” Mitsuri stopped her, her hands squeezing Shinobu’s tight. “I mean—I love them. Truly. But…” Mitsuri sighed. “It’s you I wanted to see, Shinobu.”
Oh.
Shinobu’s heart beat quicker than it had in months.
Oh.
Okay.
Shinobu sat back down, and Mitsuri continued talking.
“It’s just… Everyone else is busy with their students, you know. I’ve never seen the Corps so united before. Do you know that Tokito, Shinazugawa, and Iguro have started sparring together, too? I told them to also invite Tomioka, and Shinazugawa got so angry that he didn’t notice that Tokito agreed!”
Shinobu laughed again. Oh, she’d pay money to witness that conversation. Shinazugawa Sanemi, you loser, she thought—who knew how much time any of them had left? Just take the shot already!
“Then I thought of you, and how you took no one, and sparred with no one, and I got kinda sad… Not that I think you’re sad or anything!” Mitsuri quickly added. “It’s not my business, I know—I’m sorry if I’m imposing! You don’t have to explain yourself to me! It’s just that—your technique is so cool, and I love watching them, and I, myself, would like to attend your class if you have any, and I—I thought about how much fun teaching is, and I thought, hey, you’re good with younglings! This is something you would excel at too, you know—of course, not because you’re a doctor or something—well, partially because of that, and I thought you must also be more familiar with the Corps, seeing as you have treated most of us—but also—also because you’re kind, and you’re very smart, and—”
Shinobu squeezed Mitsuri’s hand. “Kanroji,” she said. “Breathe.”
Mitsuri paused, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She looked bashful when she looked at Shinobu again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want to see how you’re doing,” Mitsuri finished. “I miss talking to you. That’s all.”
Incredible, Shinobu thought. Even when she attempted to lie, Mitsuri was still as honest as day.
Shinobu missed it too, if she could be honest. They used to be close—much closer. Around the time Shinobu was freshly appointed as the head of the Butterfly Estate, Kanroji Mitsuri was taken in by Rengoku Kyojuro as his tsuguko. Only, Flame Breathing didn’t fare well with her body, and she would get various injuries from trying to adapt to a technique that clearly didn’t suit her very much. Mitsuri had spent many nights being rehabilitated in the Estate, and she used to lament at how she would never catch up to Kyojuro, might never make her way in the demon-slaying world, would probably die the next time they assigned her missions, because how could she master demon-slaying if she couldn’t even master her own technique…
Just invent your own style, Shinobu had said one day, when Mitsuri loudly lamented this to Aoi, who knew her woes better than anyone. That’s what I did.
And so Mitsuri did. And oh, how she shines. Love Breathing may sound inane and much too whimsical for this world of gore and horrors—I’ll switch to Friendship Breathing, Sanemi had jeered once, which earned him a kick in the shin from Shinobu—but it also made so much sense. Demons were born out of desperation and hatred. Then here comes this girl, made of pure sunlight and joy, with her pink sword and Breathing styles named after everything she’s ever loved, and, really, what could be more efficient in combating evil than that?
She was the first person Shinobu had ever fallen in love with. The last, too. There was a time, long before Iguro Obanai came into the equation, when Shinobu thought it might be reciprocated. But forming relationships of that nature was a fantasy Shinobu never let herself indulge in. There was no point in it—not when, even at fifteen, she had always known how her life would end. It didn’t even matter if Mitsuri liked girls—Shinobu couldn’t afford something as decadent as romance.
She could, however, afford a friend.
So that was what she would be.
Shinobu nodded. “Well, then,” she said. “Ask me anything.”
Mitsuri’s eyes sparkled, and thus began the catching-up session.
Mitsuri first asked about how Shinobu had been doing these past few months. Same old, same old, Shinobu answered. The finer details of her day—of how she had started working with Tamayo the demon, of all things, for the greater good of humanity, and how her veins had turned noticeably purple all over her body from the amount of wisteria she consumed throughout the years—were left out, but Shinobu told her about everything else: how good Kanao had been progressing in her training, how utterly terrifying she could be, once left to her own devices with an unfortunate demon who had no idea of the prodigious talent that stood before it. She told her about how there was nothing, absolutely nothing, she could teach Aoi regarding physiology and medicine, now, as she had bloomed into such a competent doctor herself, ready to take her station should anything happen to her.
“Nothing is going to happen to you!” Mitsuri, blissfully oblivious, confidently stated, her hands squeezing Shinobu’s just a bit tighter. “You’re our wittiest, Shinobu.”
Shinobu only offered her a smile and told her about more things that happened around her Estate: the cat that the butterfly girls took under their wings, who was once sickly and stick-thin, now fat and plump and glowing with pregnancy. She told her about the various flowers she had started to take in—she left out the parts where it had been for an experiment between her and Tamayo to see if any of it would have the same effect as wisteria did, and thus would maximise the poison they would soon shoot into their bodies—but she told her about how they had all started to bloom, now: magnolias and orchids and gardenias and larkspurs and irises. It had been fun, taking care of these plants. More tedious than Shinobu had initially thought it would be, but she welcomed the distraction, as it made her day less boring, now that there were no missions to attend to.
“I noticed!” Mitsuri gleefully said. “I love how they’re all varying shades of purple and blue, too—very fitting for you!”
Shinobu nodded. “Some of them function well as medicine, too,” she replied, thinking of how the gardenia she ground helped Aoi’s fever tremendously the other day. “Not only pretty, they’re also very useful!”
“Yay!”
“And what about you, Kanroji?” Shinobu asked. “How are things going with you?”
Immediately came the deluge of fondness.
Mitsuri talked about her students: how lovely they were, how they never complained even when things got rough, who were always willing to help her with chores and errands and beekeeping. She missed them almost as soon as they left her training, but she was so sure that the other Hashira would do a better job at helping them progress and grow.
Shinobu snorted. “Like Iguro and Shinazugawa.” She had heard how those two’s training routines felt a lot more like mass bullying. Assholes.
Mitsuri, bless her heart, did not pick up on the sarcasm. She nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! They’re strong—they should be able to teach them a few things!”
Oh, yeah, Shinobu bet.
The conversation then shifted to Obanai, and how he sent her too many batches of pollen patties—enough to last through the winter, and then the next. The honey she extracted, with the help of whoever was willing to help her (which was almost all of her students, of course—who doesn’t love Kanroji Mitsuri?), was sent back to Obanai, then to Shinobu, which Shinobu received weeks ago, then to Sanemi, who, for the first time ever, wrote her a thank you letter.
“How precious is that!” Mitsuri squealed. “I think he likes sweet things, I’m telling you—he smiled at me when we passed each other at the market the next day! Well, okay—maybe smile was a bit of a stretch—but he didn’t scowl, and he tapped my shoulder as he left. Later, Kanroji, he said. How cool is that! How cool is he!”
Shinobu refrained from telling Mitsuri how Sanemi once downed Kanae’s entire box of mochi when he stayed overnight at the Butterfly Estate, some years ago. “So did you send him more honey?”
“Unfortunately, no. I was about to, then I remembered that Tomioka might also like some honey. So I told Shinazugawa that if he ever wants more honey, he could just go over to Tomioka’s and share some with him.”
Shinobu snorted so hard, her nose stung. “You told Shinazugawa to go over to Tomioka’s for some honey?”
“Yes!” Mitsuri nodded. “I also told Tomioka that Shinazugawa’s coming over for his honey, so—”
Shinobu laughed aloud at that.
“What? What?” Mitsuri asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Shinobu wiped a tear from her eyes. “You’re a genius.”
“Oh,” Mitsuri blushed. “I mean—I don’t really know what I did, but—thank you!”
The conversation then shifted to the training itself, which was going surprisingly well—at least on their end. It was unnerving, this sudden era of peace, but it was one that everyone appreciated, anyway. Who knows how long it had been since they actually had the luxury to sleep at night, like other citizens?
“I enjoy being a slayer, I do,” Mitsuri sighed. There was a dreamy haze in her eyes. “It’s necessary. People are kind here, and we’re saving people! But also… Don’t you think it’s coming to an end, Shinobu?”
“An end?” Shinobu tilted her head. Sure, for her, who had more wisteria poison flowing in her veins than blood, things are coming to an end. But for Mitsuri? Bright, lovely Mitsuri, who had more life in the tip of her finger than Shinobu had in her whole body—the end should be the last thing on her mind. “What do you mean?”
“I can feel things stirring. I think everyone does, too, and that’s why we’re all working so hard,” Mitsuri explained. “I know we still have our fights. I know it’s going to be the hardest one yet. I know we have to give it our all—more than our all! It had to be everything that we have! But I just… I have this feeling. So peculiar, but so, so strong. That it’s ending. The reign of demons, all this darkness, all of it is ending.”
Ah, right. Shinobu almost forgot—there are good kinds of endings, too.
“The future is so bright. I can see it,” Mitsuri smiled. “Don’t you?”
No, a voice in Shinobu immediately answered. No, she couldn’t see it. The only future Shinobu saw was of her decay, and whatever future Mitsuri was talking about, Shinobu would not be alive to see it. Shinobu had better not see it—she didn’t turn her body into the world’s biggest vial of demon poison for nothing. All of her best-laid plans, all of this planning, researching, experimenting, had better not be for nothing.
But Shinobu didn’t say any of that to Mitsuri. She only smiled and said, “Tell me about it. This future that you see. What will the world look like?”
“Oh, well—I don’t—I don’t really know the details,” Mitsuri replied sheepishly. “I’m not a fortune teller. All I can see is the world without demons, and it’s bright enough already. Would there be flying trains? I’m not sure!”
Shinobu chuckled. “Tell me about your future, then,” she prompted. “Not the world’s. Just yours.”
Mitsuri thought about this for a while.
“Well,” she started. “I’ll be unemployed, so I guess I’ll have to find a new job.”
“Yeah?” Shinobu propped her chin on her hand. “As what?”
“A cook,” a small smile tugged at Mitsuri’s lips. “I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about opening a ramen shop, simply because there’s this recipe that Kyojuro taught me that I—I’ve been dying to eat again, and I—oh,” a tear escaped her eyes. Shinobu wiped it away quickly, and Mitsuri gave her a grateful smile. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Shinobu said. She missed Kyojuro, too. “So, ramen shop. That’s very lovely.”
“Did you know he’s a terrific cook?” Mitsuri asked. Shinobu shook her head. “I asked him once, during dinner at his house. Have you ever thought about being a cook, Kyo? Then he said No! I’m more interested in eating! And besides, demon-slaying is what I was born for, so there’s no doubt about my career path! And I said, Well, you should try! You’re good! Then he just laughed. I’ll leave that to you, he said. Be strong and good and survive until you retire, then go open your restaurant. I’ll be there every day,” Mitsuri smiled. Her eyes were still wet when she looked at Shinobu again. “So… Yeah. I think I’ll be a cook. It’s a shame he won’t be there, though.”
“I’ll be there,” Shinobu said. It was a lie, but it was too easy to dream with Mitsuri. She almost believed she would make it out alive. “Will it only serve ramen? Or would there be other dishes?”
“I don’t know yet!” Mitsuri replied. “I never thought that far, to be honest. What do you think?”
“Rice bowls would be nice, too. For the summer, when it’s too hot to eat ramen.” Shinobu thought of Giyuu, who never liked hot food very much. “Or cold soba.”
“Seasonal menu, yes! That’s fun!” Mitsuri clapped. “You’re good at this! We should open the restaurant together, Shinobu—you’re good at brewing things, aren’t you!”
“Well, yeah, but poison!” Shinobu laughed. “And it’s not even effective for humans. I’d be useless in a restaurant.”
Mitsuri laughed along with her.
“I can tend to flowers, though,” Shinobu offered. “So if your restaurant ever has a garden…”
“A florist!” Mitsuri gasped in delight. She grabbed Shinobu’s hand, her eyes twinkling in the low light. “Oh, a ramen shop and a flower shop, all in one! Oh, that’s so precious—then we can live right above our shops—”
Shinobu’s cheeks grew hot. “We?”
“Yeah!” Mitsuri nodded. “Partners live together, don’t they?”
Business partners, Shinobu reminded herself as she replied coolly, “What are we going to do with our mansions?”
“Sell them!” Mitsuri said. “Sell everything! Well, my bees go with me, but we can sell everything else to fund the shop! And Sumi-chan, Naho-chan, Kiyo-chan—they can live with us! Oh, and Kanao and Aoi, too of course! It’d be like a sleepover every day, and on Wednesdays we can close our shops to have our day off. We can go to the town, or just laze around, or—oh!” Mitsuri gasped. Her grip tightened in Shinobu’s hand. “We can go to Kamakura! Apparently, they have just opened a train line that goes right along the coast. One of my students’ last missions had been to the Goryo Shrine, and he fawned over the views he saw at Kamakura—said he could see Fuji from the beach! Hey—we can even open up a mini pop-up store there, maybe? Oh, but then that wouldn’t be our day off… But that’s alright with me, though—it would be nice to live someplace new, don’t you think!”
It took great bravery, Shinobu thought, to not only stay optimistic and loving in this hellish world, but also to still dare to paint dreams and build futures. For all his bites and muscles, not even Shinazugawa Sanemi, the most feared man in the Corps, have the guts for such a thing. Facing demons was easy—the only stake was to die, and even then, they’d get to finally reunite with their loved ones. But to face life?
I’m dying, Shinobu wanted to confess. I’m dying, and I love you, and I’m sorry, she almost blurted out. Mitsuri was so, so beautiful, and she was so bright that it hurt, and Shinobu wanted to ask her if she could teach her how to live, how to dream, how to see the world not painted in blood red but in vivid kaleidoscope of color, how to rinse herself of this rot that had been festering in her heart even before the demons come. Do you think it’s too late, Mitsuri, Shinobu wanted to ask, so, so badly. Do you think it was too late to start over? To live, to love—do you think it’s too late?
Can I kiss you—
“You thought a lot about this,” was the only thing Shinobu choked out.
“Yeah,” Mitsuri said, looking a bit shy. “It’s a nice thing to carry on missions. Dreams, I mean. Whenever it gets too scary, I like to be delusional. I like to think: a house by the sea, a house by the sea, a house by the sea, and it’s warm and sunny and there’s totally no demons that want to eat you…”
“A house by the sea,” Shinobu repeated. Her throat was parched, all of a sudden. She had forgotten how heavy desire weighed.
Mitsuri nodded. “And cats on the patio. And I’d really like big windows, you know—East-facing! It’s always a relief to see the sun at the end of our missions, so I can’t help but love it. I figured it’d be nice to wake up to it, since we might even get a full night’s sleep, once this is over.”
We, the word echoed in Shinobu’s mind. Us. Our.
How nice.
“Tell me more,” Shinobu asked.
Mitsuri looked at her, her eyes glistening. The light dancing in it looked like it came straight from heaven. “About our house by the sea?”
Oh, it ached.
Oh, it ached, her heart—the silly, foolish, dying little thing. But for once, Shinobu let it. She intertwined her fingers with Mitsuri’s once more, and revelled in how her heart thumped painfully against her ribcage, how it beat harder when Mitsuri squeezed it tighter. It ached, this whole ordeal of loving, and it reminded her too much of what she would lose.
But for once, it was alright. She was alive, Shinobu reminded herself. They were alive, here, in the dead of night, in this lonely infirmary. This, right here, might as well be the center of the universe.
Perhaps there existed a point in this vast universe where they both made it to Kamakura. Perhaps, if Shinobu had the ability to rummage through the tangled threads of lifetimes and timelines, she would find the one where she and Mitsuri had met as regular people, as normal girls who had no idea what a human’s entrails looked like beneath an open chest. Perhaps in that one, they would find themselves coasting along the lines of that train by the shore, hands still intertwined, and they never had to let go. It would be sunny, Shinobu thought. Looking at Mitsuri’s eyes, it was easy to be brave enough to dream, and so she dreamt: it would be sunny. It would always be warm, and they could wear their prettiest yukatas instead of their blood-stained, sweat-soaked uniforms. Their biggest problem would be missing the last train, which meant they’d have to spend hours trekking, but it wouldn’t matter. They would find themselves at their house by the beach, all the same. No matter how long it takes.
At some point in this vast universe, that version of them existed—Shinobu had to be sure of it. Surely, all of Fate’s cruelty had been spent on this lifetime. The other ones would be kinder, Shinobu prayed. She could almost see the sea, lapping to and fro on the sand, from their window.
But in this one, she supposed she would have to be content with only hearing about it.
And so:
“Everything,” Shinobu replied. “Tell me everything.”