Sometimes, the most unexpected conversations lead to revelations.
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The empty Japanese restaurant stood like a forgotten memory, its wooden beams sagging under the weight of time. The first light of dawn filtered through the paper screens, casting delicate shadows on the tatami mats. Mitsuri Kanroji, sat at a corner table, her eyes wide with excitement.
Shinobu Kocho, joined her, her expression more reserved. "Mitsuri-chan ," she said, "what brings you here so early?"
Mitsuri's eyes sparkled. "I couldn't sleep," she confessed. "I've been thinking about our fellow Water Hashira."
Shinobu raised an eyebrow. "Tomioka-san?"
Mitsuri nodded. "Exactly! Giyu-san is like a mysterious cherry blossom. Charming, brooding, and skilled. Have you noticed how other female slayers look at him?"
Shinobu sipped her tea. "I suppose."
"But here's the twist," Mitsuri leaned closer. "The only girl he ever talks to is you, Shinobu-chan."
Shinobu's heart skipped a beat. "Me?"
"Yes!" Mitsuri giggled. "He's always so serious, but when he's with you, he actually smiles. It's adorable."
Shinobu's cheeks warmed. "I never—"
"—And," Mitsuri interrupted, "he respects you. Trusts you. It's like you're the only person he truly opens up to."
Shinobu's mind raced. Tomioka-san? Opening up? She'd never considered it. But now, the idea nestled in her heart like a fragile butterfly.
Mitsuri stood. "You should talk to him, Shinobu-chan. Maybe there cherry blossoms will bloom."
And so, as the sun painted the sky, Shinobu found herself standing outside Tomioka Giyu's door. Her heart fluttered like a trapped butterfly. She knocked.
Giyu opened the door, his eyes questioning.
"Can we talk?" Shinobu asked.
He hesitated, then stepped aside. "Come in."
They sat across from each other, the air heavy with unspoken words. Shinobu cleared her throat. "Mitsuri said something interesting."
Giyu raised an eyebrow.
"She thinks you're attractive," Shinobu blurted out. "And that you only talk to me."
His face remained impassive. "She has a vivid imagination."
"But is it true?" Shinobu leaned closer. "Do you only talk to me?"
Giyu's gaze held hers. "Yes," he said softly. "Only to you."
And in that quiet room, as the cherry blossoms bloomed outside, Shinobu realized that sometimes, love was like a fragile butterfly—beautiful, elusive, and waiting to take flight.
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