Quite Observation

Days passed. Then weeks.

She didn't leave.

Not because she was forced to stay, but because—

For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like she had to run.

She still trained relentlessly, pushing her body past the limits of her healing wounds. But in between those moments, she found herself settling into the rhythm of the Butterfly Mansion.

She helped where she could—Cleaning, assisting in the kitchen with Aoi, sometimes sparring with Kanao, or spending sometime time with Sumi, Kiyo and Naho when the little girls weren't under Shinobu's watchful eye.

She still didn't talk much about herself, but that didn't seem to bother the girls. They accepted her presence easily, with lovely warm hands, treating her as if she had always been there.

It was strange.

She had spent so much of her life keeping people at arm's length. But here—Here, it was different.

She smiled more—Laughed... even.

And when she let her guard down, even just a little, it felt—Normal.

 ~

On one afternoon, at the Courtyard—The sun bathed the garden in a golden glow. The soft chirping of birds mixed with the distant chatter of the mansion's residents.

She sat on the engawa, feeding a small stray cat that had taken a liking to her. It purred, rubbing against her hand as she absently scratched behind its ears.

Letting her guard down, she didn't notice the quiet presence approaching until a familiar shadow loomed beside her.

She glanced up.

Giyuu.

He stood there, watching, expression unreadable as ever.

She blinked, then looked back down at the cat, as if his sudden presence wasn't unexpected.

"You're early," breaking the silence.

"You knew I was coming?"

She smirked faintly, still petting the cat.

"You always come."

That wasn't entirely true. He wasn't always there. But he came often enough that she had stopped being surprised by it.

He never announced himself. Never explained why.

But he still came.

And she never told him to leave.

She didn't ask why he was here today, either.

She simply moved aside, just enough for him to sit.

After a moment, he did.

And together, in the warmth of the setting sun, they sat in comfortable silence, listening to the wind, the birds, and the soft purring of the small creature between them.

 ~

Yes.

Giyuu wasn't one to pry.

But he noticed things.

Like the way her shoulders, usually tense with restraint, eased when she stroked the cat's fur. Like how her voice, often edged with guarded sharpness, softened ever so slightly when she murmured something to the small creature.

Like how, in this moment, she wasn't the relentless warrior who tore through demons like a storm. She wasn't the girl who carried invisible weight in her eyes or the one who disappeared into the shadows whenever she pleased.

Right now, she was just—

At ease.

He had seen her train with unyielding discipline. Had seen her fight with ruthless precision. Had seen her bleed, break, and still stand tall.

But this?

This was different.

This wasn't survival.

This was simply... existing.

And for some reason, he couldn't look away.

She must have felt his stare because she suddenly glanced at him, raising a brow.

"What?"

He didn't answer immediately. As always.

He just watched as the cat pawed at her sleeve, demanding more attention. She sighed but relented, scratching behind its ears again.

Finally, he spoke.

"You like animals."

She blinked, as if surprised by such an obvious observation.

Then, to his quiet surprise, she chuckled.

"That's a weird thing to say, coming from you."

"...Why?"

She shook her head, amused.

"I don't know. You just don't seem like the type to make small talk."

He frowned slightly. A small talk. That wasn't his intention. He had simply—

Noticed.

She must have realized that because her expression shifted. A moment passed before she finally answered.

"I like animals," she admitted, still focused on the cat. "They don't expect much. They don't ask questions. They just... stay if they want to."

A quiet truth wrapped in casual words.

He didn't reply. He just watched as the cat curled against her, content and safe.

And maybe, just maybe—For once, she felt the same.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the engawa. The breeze was gentle, rustling the leaves in the quiet between them. Giyuu remained still, watching the way the cat nestled into the fabric of her sleeve, completely at ease.

He hadn't meant to linger this long. He never planned these visits—Never had a reason for coming. Yet somehow, he always ended up here, watching over her like an unspoken habit.

The cat purred, and she absently ran her fingers through its fur, her expression unreadable.

Giyuu finally spoke—again.

"You've changed."

It wasn't an accusation. Just another quiet observation.

She stopped her movements, flashbacks crossing her mind. He watched as her hand stilled over the cat's fur, her gaze lost somewhere far away.

NO. He's wrong, But—

He's right. She had changed.

Unfortunately... not the way he had thought.

This 'Her'—was her before everything happened. Before she unleashed the monster inside of her, keeping this version of her locked inside.

But to him, she is the that warrior who fought a like strom, herself.

Changed to this... Well, he doesn't know what—But.. it's lovely to see her letting herself live a little.

"You've noticed... late." She finally replied. "That's alright."

He didn't pry. He never did. But he knew—There was weight behind those words. Not bitterness. Not resentment. Just a quiet understanding of something unspoken.

"Should've sooner." He thought.

She had changed, but not in the way he assumed earlier.

She wasn't becoming something new.

She was slowly returning to something lost.

A version of her, buried beneath scars and survival.

And maybe... it wasn't just the Butterfly Mansion that was helping her heal.

Maybe it was the simple things. The warmth of small hands pulling her into chores. The laughter of young voices who didn't see her as a weapon. The soft purring of a creature that asked nothing much from her.

Maybe it was the fact that—despite everything—she was still here.

Alive. Living, even if just a little.

He exhaled softly. He glanced toward the sky, where the first hints of twilight bled into the horizon.

"Figured."

He didn't elaborate. Didn't explain what he meant. But for once, maybe he didn't need to. Because neither of you had to be alone in the quiet anymore.

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