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The forest air was cool and crisp, touched with the smell of wet moss and early summer. The rustle of birds overhead barely covered the faint splash of water.
Shinobu walked briskly, her jaw tight, eyes sharp. Her sandals crunched over the undergrowth as she stormed down the slope, haori flaring around her like the wings of a butterfly caught in a windstorm.
They were gone.
Kyojuro is gone. So is Akaza. No note. No word. No warning.
She’d searched the entire mansion, top to bottom. Kyojuro’s futon: cold. Akaza’s favorite perch near the window: empty. Even the back training yard, where they often sparred or sat together—had no sign. At first, she’d assumed they were off walking, but when hours passed with no word, her gut twisted.
She didn’t like that feeling. The last time a demon went “missing,” three rooms had been destroyed and it had taken her three full days to stop shaking. But that had been months ago. Akaza was different now. He was better. Stronger.
Still, she thought bitterly, being “better” doesn’t mean he’s incapable of doing something reckless.
Especially with Kyojuro Rengoku, of all people, who had a concerning habit of encouraging Akaza’s more feral instincts under the banner of “trust” and “freedom.” Shinobu, meanwhile, was always “too careful.” “Too clinical.” “Too suspicious.”
She stepped over a fallen branch, lips pressed into a thin line.
“He’s not some animal to be babysat, ” Kyojuro had told her once.
But when you’re the one who picked him up bleeding, sedated him, restrained him, cleaned his wounds, and kept him from shattering apart during his worst weeks well, it was hard to unsee it. She paused at the edge of a familiar path, narrowing her eyes.
There. A fresh footprint in the soft dirt. Heavy, deep. Not Kyojuro’s. Akaza’s. Shinobu followed it in near silence, her mind swirling with rising concern until the sound of water reached her ears—a stream.
Then she caught the faintest scent of blood. It was fresh, thinned by water, but wrong. It didn’t smell like a human. It didn’t smell like the blood she kept in the Butterfly Mansion’s reserves, either.
And then she saw him.
Akaza was kneeling beside a narrow stream, hands and forearms stained red. He dipped his arms into the current, dragging the blood from his fingers, calmly scrubbing at the creases of his wrists with wet leaves. There was a smear of crimson across his jaw. A fresh smear.
Her stomach dropped.
The scene was too quiet. Too intimate. There was no sign of panic. No violence. Just him, hunched low, surrounded by green and gold, trying to clean himself like a wounded animal.
But the blood so much of it. Still bright. Still wet.
He froze. Instinctively still, like a deer caught under moonlight.
“ Akaza, ” she said sharply, her voice too high. “Where is Kyojuro?”
The demon blinked at her, golden eyes unreadable, then tipped his chin toward a dense patch of trees behind him. “Over there.”
Shinobu took a step closer and froze mid-step.
Behind him, half-concealed in the tall grass, she saw it —a flash of something too red, too still. She saw a carcass.
Fresh.
Her stomach plunged. “Oh no. What did you do?” Her voice cracked, horror rising in her chest.
He startled—not violently, his eyes wide and shining in the light. His mouth was slightly open, and she could see a glint of stained teeth. Akaza tilted his head, like her question confused him.
She took another step back, hand falling instinctively to her haori pocket where the emergency sedative was tucked. “You—you didn’t—Kyojuro let you—?”
Akaza’s eyes widened more, but before he could speak, a familiar voice came crashing in like thunder.
“Shinobu! Wait—don’t panic—!”
Kyojuro burst from the trees at a sprint, hands up like she was holding him at bladepoint. “It’s not what it looks like!”
Shinobu stared at the blood on his sleeves, the mess across Akaza’s face, the dark splotches soaking into the moss.
“It’s not human,” Kyojuro said quickly, raising his hands as he jogged closer. “It’s a deer. I promise. Just a deer.”
Her mouth opened, then shut.
Akaza just blinked at her again, calmly wringing out the edge of his sleeve in the stream.
“…What do you mean, a deer?” she asked slowly, voice dangerously quiet. “Since when do you two go hunting?”
Kyojuro’s grin faltered. “Ah. Well. Since about two months ago?”
Shinobu shifted, slowly, as if her brain was buffering. “You let him hunt!?” Shinobu’s face flattened into something unreadable.
“You’ve been letting a demon hunt and eat animals. In the woods. Alone. And you didn’t think to mention it!?”
“I wasn’t alone,” Akaza said calmly. “He was with me.”
She rounded on him. “You don’t get points for that!”
He just blinked at her again and mumbled, “You’re yelling.”
“I am not —” she cut herself off with a furious breath. “I’m raising my voice because no one told me you’re eating raw animals in the middle of nowhere like a wild beast!”
“…Better than eating you,” Akaza said, not quite under his breath.
Kyojuro let out a short laugh that he quickly smothered behind his hand.
“That’s not funny,” Shinobu hissed, “that is so not funny—!”
“Shinobu,” Kyojuro said gently, stepping beside her, his tone finally serious, “it helps him.”
She turned to him, eyes wide, almost betrayed.
“He was struggling. The blood bags you prepared kept him alive, but it wasn’t enough. Not for what he is. He was hungry all the time. Tense. On edge. It wasn’t working.”
“So we tried this. The forest near the village has deer. Wild boar, sometimes. I watched to make sure he didn’t go too far. But it helped. It really helped. His instincts calmed down, his body’s stronger, and his cravings are manageable. He hasn’t come close to snapping in weeks.”
Kyojuro nodded solemnly. “He took down the deer all on his own today. I didn’t lift a finger.”
There was a long silence.
Shinobu pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “So. Let me get this straight. You’ve been taking him on— field trips —to hunt deer. You watch him eat it raw. Like some kind of—”
“—Wild animal,” Akaza supplied helpfully.
“— No! Not like that!” she snapped. “Like an unsupervised lunatic!”
Kyojuro smiled sheepishly. “It’s really very safe.” She stood still, eyes flicking between them. Her voice came slow, measured.
“So you— both —decided he should roam the woods like a wolf and feed on wild animals, and didn’t think I might want to know about this?”
Akaza flinched.
Kyojuro cleared his throat. “We… meant to tell you.”
Shinobu’s tone sharpened. “Oh, how thoughtful.”
“We thought it would sound worse than it is,” Kyojuro tried. “But look at him. He’s fine. He hasn’t had a single hunger incident since we started.”
Shinobu’s eyes swept over Akaza again.
She hated it because he did look fine. More than fine. His skin was healthier, less drawn. His posture was loose, uncoiled, instead of that wound-tight tension she’d grown used to. Even the faint, restless flicker in his eyes was quieter now, tempered.
Still, the sight of fresh blood on his hands made her jaw ache from how tightly she clenched it.
“And what happens,” she said softly, “when the line blurs?”
Kyojuro’s brows furrowed. “It won’t.”
“Oh?” Her voice had a knife-edge now. “Because you can guarantee he’ll never go from deer to something else?”
“I won’t,” Akaza interrupted, tone flat but steady. His golden eyes met hers without flinching. “I’m not stupid.”
“That’s not the point—”
“It’s exactly the point.” He stood then, shaking the water from his hands. “You think I don’t know the difference? That I can’t control myself?”
Shinobu’s fingers twitched toward her pocket again, the faintest rustle of the sedative vial shifting. “I think control is fragile. Especially for you.”
Kyojuro stepped between them—not forcefully, but enough to break the locked line of sight. “Shinobu,” he said, voice warm but firm, “this isn’t a fight. We’ve been careful. Always together, always in the same area. He doesn’t wander. If I thought for a second it was dangerous, I’d stop.”
Her eyes flicked past him, narrowing slightly at Akaza. “And what about today? You were alone when I found you.”
“I wasn’t far,” Kyojuro said quickly. “I was making sure we didn't draw the attention of an animal or other demons.”
Shinobu let out a slow breath through her nose. “So you’ve thought this through.”
Akaza smiled with a twitch of irritation, “Of course we did.”
The stream gurgled softly between them. Somewhere overhead, an owl called out.
Shinobu finally lowered her hand from her pocket. “…I don’t like being left out.”
Kyojuro’s expression softened. “I know.”
“You both should have told me.”
Akaza dipped his chin, “…Next time, I’ll tell you.”
“What if another demon slayer were to find you? Or, god forbid, another Hashira? What would you do then?”
“We’re always careful! And if there was another slayer in the area Akaza would be able to sense them.”
Akaza wiped at his jaw with the back of his sleeve, muttering, “You’re dramatic.”
“Comes with the job,” she replied coolly.
There was a beat of silence.
“Now,” Shinobu said, turning sharply on her heel, “we’re going back to the mansion. And you’re both explaining everything while I burn these clothes.”
Kyojuro grinned sheepishly and gestured for Akaza to follow. “Come on. You heard the lady.”
Akaza sighed, glancing back once toward the stream before trudging after them, the mossy ground soft under his bare feet.
The forest seemed to exhale as they left, the scent of blood slowly fading behind them.
☾…
The walk back to the mansion was quiet at first too quiet for Shinobu’s liking. Kyojuro, usually a stream of booming laughter and commentary, kept his voice down as if afraid to prod the hornet’s nest she had become. Akaza, meanwhile, trailed a few paces behind, barefoot steps soundless on the dirt path. He moved like a shadow despite the streaks of dried red across his sleeves.
Shinobu’s sharp gaze flicked over her shoulder every few minutes, checking yes, still there, still following, still quiet.
“You’re glaring at me,” Akaza said finally, breaking the silence.
“I’m observing you,” she corrected without turning.
“Feels the same.”
Kyojuro let out a low chuckle. “She does that to me, too. You get used to it.”
“I’m not trying to get used to it,” Akaza muttered.
Shinobu ignored him. “If you’ve been doing this for months, I want to know every detail. When you go. How long are you gone? What you hunt. How much do you consume?”
“Do you want the exact number of bites?” Akaza asked blandly.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
He blinked at her, then looked at Kyojuro as if to say, ‘ See what I mean?’
Kyojuro only smiled. “She’s thorough. That’s why you’re still alive.”
They rounded a bend in the path, the treeline thinning. From here, Shinobu could just make out the distant white walls of the Butterfly Mansion between the greenery.
Akaza’s eyes flicked toward it, then down. His pace slowed, almost imperceptibly, like a fox reluctant to return to its den.
Shinobu noticed. She always noticed. “Problem?”
“…Not a problem,” he said after a beat. “Just… don’t want to deal with the looks today.”
Kyojuro’s expression softened, but Shinobu’s sharpened. “You mean the girls.”
He didn’t answer right away, just kept his gaze on the path. “…They smell blood. They’ll ask.”
Shinobu’s tone lost a fraction of its edge. “Then I’ll tell them it was supervised. And no one was hurt.”
His golden eyes flicked to her, searching for something sincere, and after a pause, he gave a short nod.
By the time they stepped into the sunlit courtyard, the faint hum of activity inside the mansion was already drifting toward them. Somewhere, someone was sweeping the walkway. The smell of tea drifted on the breeze.
Shinobu turned to face them both before they crossed the threshold. “Clothes. Now. Straight to the laundry. And Akaza try not to track blood across my floors.”
He tilted his head. “…You’re bossy when you’re mad.”
“That’s not new,” Kyojuro murmured with a grin.
Shinobu ignored them both, sliding the door open with crisp efficiency. “Inside. Now.”
They stepped in, the warm air of the mansion wrapping around them home, safe, but carrying just the faintest charge of tension.
Akaza glanced once toward the hall leading to his usual perch by the window, then followed them deeper inside. He didn’t miss the way Shinobu kept herself between him and the girls moving through the halls, subtly blocking curious eyes.
Shinobu didn’t stop moving until they reached one of the side corridors near the laundry room, far from the busiest parts of the mansion. She slid open the shoji door with a quick motion, letting the three of them into a small, warm room where folded stacks of yukata and neatly organized baskets lined the shelves.
“Clothes. There.” She pointed to a low table where a dark yukata was already laid out. “Change. I’ll be back for the dirty ones.”
Akaza glanced at the clothes, then at her, brow slightly furrowed. “You’re going to stand there?”
“Yes,” she said, without missing a beat.
Kyojuro let out a quiet laugh. “She’s worried you’ll wander.”
“I won’t,” Akaza muttered, but still didn’t move.
Shinobu crossed her arms. “I’m not risking you leaving deer blood on my floors. You change here. Now.”
For a moment, he just looked at her, something flickering in his eyes—resentment, or simple weariness. But he said nothing. Instead, he leaned down and began working at the knots of his bloodstained shirt, methodical but slow, his movements betraying the faint stiffness in his shoulders.
Kyojuro, perhaps sensing the edge of the moment, crouched down beside him and began helping with the knots. “Hold still,” he said warmly. “You’re making it harder.”
“Feels weird,” Akaza muttered. “Changing in front of people.”
“You’ve done it before,” Kyojuro reminded him, tugging the haori free from one arm.
“Not when I feel like I’ve done something wrong.”
That stilled Kyojuro’s hands for a beat. Shinobu’s gaze softened just slightly but she still kept her voice even. “You’re not in trouble. I’m… upset you didn’t tell me, but that’s different.”
Akaza’s hands paused on the knot at his waist. “…Doesn’t feel different.”
Kyojuro gave a small, reassuring squeeze to his arm before helping slide the ruined haori off completely. The smell of iron from the dried blood rose briefly, sharp against the faint lavender scent of the room.
Shinobu stepped forward with a cloth, wordlessly wiping at a smear along his jaw before it could drip onto the fresh clothes. He didn’t pull away, but his gaze stayed low, fixed on the tatami.
“There,” she murmured, voice quieter now. “Better.”
When the stained garments were folded into the laundry basket, Kyojuro pushed the clean yukata into Akaza’s hands. “Go on. I’ll be right outside.”
Akaza hesitated, eyes flicking between them, before finally taking the clothes and turning his back to finish changing. Shinobu lingered only long enough to make sure he started, then stepped out into the hallway with Kyojuro.
The moment the door slid shut, she let out a quiet sigh. “Two months, Kyojuro. Two months without a word.”
“I know,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry. I just… wanted to give him something that worked before inviting the debates and rules that might kill it.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no true venom in them. “It’s not the hunting that bothers me most. It’s that you hid it.”
Inside the laundry room, the faint rustle of fabric could be heard slow, deliberate movements, as if Akaza was in no rush to rejoin them.
Kyojuro’s expression gentled. “You know he thinks this means you don’t trust him.”
Shinobu’s gaze slid toward the door, her voice soft but unyielding. “I’m not sure I do. Not yet.”
Neither noticed the way the quiet inside the room had gone still. Akaza paused mid-motion, head tilted listening to every word through the insubstantial wall.
The quietness inside the laundry room stretched.
Akaza’s hands stilled on the fabric tie at his waist. His golden eyes were fixed on the floorboards. His posture had changed his shoulders were drawn tighter. He could hear them plainly, every word as harsh as if they’d been spoken straight into his ear.
Not sure I do. Not yet.
His jaw clenched, the faint scrape of teeth audible to no one but himself.
Outside, Kyojuro was still speaking, his voice low but warm. “Trust is built, Shinobu. You know that. He’s… not the same as when he first came here. I wouldn’t risk the forest otherwise.”
“I know he’s better,” she replied, a faint sigh in her tone, “but better isn’t safe. You didn’t see him the way I did in those first days.”
“That was months ago.”
“And it can come back,” she said simply. “You’ve seen it in other demons. They slip. They regress.”
Akaza’s grip on the fabric tightened almost ripping it, his hands shook, and his eyes stung. He blinked once, slowly, the movement deliberate, trembling as he forced himself to breathe again.
The yukata sleeves rubbed against his skin as he pulled them into place, the fabric was harsh and uncomfortable. Not at all like the beloved clothes that Kyojuro had gifted him. Taking into consideration all of the sensory issues he often had to cope with. Issues that Shinobu had always ignored.
When he finally slid the door open, Kyojuro’s head turned first, a smile already halfway to his face only to falter when he caught the flat set of Akaza’s expression.
“All done?” Kyojuro asked lightly.
Akaza nodded once. “Yeah,” he replied steadily, but there was something in it an almost imperceptible tightness.
Shinobu’s eyes swept over him clean clothes, no visible blood and she nodded approvingly. “Better. Now—”
“I heard you,” Akaza cut in, gaze locked on her.
Her brows lifted slightly. “…Heard me?”
“You don’t trust me,” he said plainly just a fact that lay bare.
Shinobu’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I didn’t say that.”
“You did,” he said, his voice quiet but unwavering. “Just softer.”
The air between them tightened. Kyojuro stepped in quickly, a steadying hand landing on Akaza’s shoulder. “Akaza—”
“It’s fine,” Akaza said, still looking at Shinobu. “You don’t have to lie. I know what I am. I know what you see when you look at me.”
Her gaze didn’t falter, but the sharpness in it softened by degrees. “…Then give me more to see.”
That stung. He wanted to scream at her that he was trying. That he tried so hard every day. How could he give her anything more than he is? How much more did she want? No, it would never be enough, not as long as he remained a demon.
For a long moment, no one moved.
Finally, Kyojuro gave Akaza’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Come on. Tea. And then you can tell her exactly how this hunting thing works, from the start.”
Akaza’s gaze lingered on Shinobu for another beat before he gave the smallest nod. “…Fine.”
But as they stepped out into the hallway together, Kyojuro kept himself between them because there was still something brittle in the air, like glass under a thin layer of frost.
The three of them moved through the corridor in a line Kyojuro at the front, Akaza a step behind him, Shinobu bringing up the rear.
The soft slap of their footsteps against the polished wood was the only sound for a while. The air inside the mansion was warm and faintly scented with green tea and wisteria, but there was still that thin wire of tension humming between them.
They passed two of the younger attendants carrying folded linens. The girls bowed quickly to Shinobu, their eyes darting just for a heartbeat toward Akaza before dropping to the floor. They didn’t speak, but the quickened pace of their steps afterward was hard to miss.
Akaza’s head turned slightly, tracking the sound of their retreat. His shoulders, already stiff, drew tighter.
Kyojuro noticed. Without looking back, he said, “Ignore it.”
“I am,” Akaza replied, though his voice had that clipped, too-even tone that made it clear he wasn’t.
Shinobu’s eyes flicked to him from behind, studying the way he kept his gaze forward now, jaw set. She could tell he was working hard to keep whatever he was feeling locked down.
When they reached the small tea room, Kyojuro slid the door open and gestured for them both to enter. The space was quiet, moonlight pooling across the tatami mats. A low table sat in the center, already set with a simple tray: a steaming pot of tea, three cups, and a burning candle.
Shinobu stepped past him to sit, her movements precise, and began pouring. “Sit,” she said, more instruction than invitation.
Akaza dropped into place across from her, Kyojuro taking the middle spot between them like a natural barrier.
She slid a cup toward Akaza without looking up. “Start talking.”
He glanced at Kyojuro, who gave him a small nod.
“It started… when the blood bags stopped being enough,” Akaza said, hands curling loosely around the warm porcelain. “I didn’t say anything at first. I didn’t want—” He broke off, then shook his head. “Didn’t want it to be a problem.”
“It would have been,” Shinobu said evenly.
“I know.” His eyes flicked to hers briefly. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
Kyojuro leaned forward slightly, voice calm. “So I suggested we try hunting. Animals only. I stayed with him every time. We started with boar harder to catch, and more energy burned. Then deer. Easier on his body.”
“And you,’ Shinobu said, turning to Kyojuro, ‘you never once thought that telling me might be wise?”
Kyojuro gave a small, almost apologetic smile. “I thought… if it failed, there was no harm in you never knowing.”
Akaza snorted softly into his tea. “It didn’t fail.”
Shinobu’s gaze sharpened. “It still could.”
Akaza met her eyes across the table, not flinching this time. “It won’t.”
The room went still again, save for the faint hiss of steam from the teapot. Kyojuro, ever the bridge, broke it gently. “It works, Shinobu. And it’s kept him steady. I think… maybe it’s time for you to start believing it.”
Her brows rose slightly. “…believe it?”
He nodded, a faint smile playing at his lips. “Come with us next time.”
Akaza’s gaze shifted between them, something unreadable flickering in his eyes surprise, maybe, or caution but he didn’t speak. Shinobu’s lips pressed together in thought, her gaze lingering on the faint tension in Akaza’s shoulders. “…I’ll consider it.”
For the first time since the stream, Akaza’s grip on his cup loosened. Shinobu didn’t say more right away. Instead, she lifted her teacup and took a slow sip, her gaze fixed on the steam curling upward as though the answer to every problem might be hiding in its patterns.
Shinobu set her cup down gently. “If I agree to watch this… hunting,” she said carefully, “there will be rules. You will not leave my line of sight. You will not break from my instructions. And if I tell you to stop, you stop.”
Akaza slumped. Finally, finally he had found something that didn't control him, something with no rules where he didn't have to hide his instincts, he could let them lie bare. Without the fear of overbearing rules and scrutinizing eyes. Would now be taken away from him. Shinobu had once told him that he wasn't a prisoner there, but that was at the beginning of his stay at the Butterfly Mansion. When he was too scared to even touch a blanket.
Now? Now he wished for nothing more than to run away from this ‘new life’ that he had never asked for. “Fine. But no sedative unless I actually do something wrong.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s… negotiable.”
“Not to me.” His voice was quiet, but steady.
Kyojuro leaned forward slightly, looking between them like a man trying to keep a bridge from collapsing. “We can set terms later. The important thing is you’ll come.”
Shinobu gave him a flat look. “I said I’d consider it.”
“That’s halfway to yes,” Kyojuro said cheerfully.
Akaza smirked faintly into his tea. “You’re too optimistic.”
“And you’re too guarded,” Kyojuro countered.
The faintest flicker of amusement passed through Akaza’s eyes before it vanished again. “…Maybe.”
Shinobu, watching him closely, caught it. She reached for the teapot to refill their cups, her voice softer now. “If I’m going to trust you with this, Akaza, you’re going to have to trust me, too. Even when you think I’m overbearing.”
His golden eyes met hers over the rim of his cup, steady and unblinking. “That’s not the hard part.”
“Then what is?”
He hesitated just long enough for the air to shift. “…Believing you’ll still trust me if I mess up.”
The words hung there, heavy but unspoken in all the ways that mattered.
Kyojuro’s expression gentled, his voice warm. “Then we make sure you don’t.”
Akaza huffed a faint laugh through his nose. “Easier said than done.”
Shinobu didn’t answer just poured the last of the tea, her movements slow and deliberate, like she was weighing something important.
Akaza shifted, restless. His knee bounced once under the table before he caught himself. “If you come,” he said, breaking the quiet, “don’t stand there watching like I’m going to bite the wrong thing. It makes it harder.”
Shinobu’s gaze flicked to him. “Harder to…?”
“To focus.” His fingers drummed lightly against his teacup. “If I feel you watching for mistakes, I’ll make one.”
Kyojuro’s eyes warmed in quiet understanding, but Shinobu didn’t soften. “You’d rather I close my eyes and pretend I’m not there?”
Akaza’s mouth twitched. “I’d rather you watch like you expect me to succeed.”
Something in her expression faltered. Not much, but enough for Kyojuro to notice. He didn’t speak, though just let the silence stretch until Shinobu set her hands on the table and leaned forward slightly.
“All right,” she said finally. “If you can do it without me needing to step in—if you can show me I was wrong to be worried—then I’ll stop watching for mistakes.”
Akaza studied her face, searching for something, and gave a small nod. “Deal.”
Kyojuro clapped his hands once, loud enough to startle them both. “Excellent! We’ll go tomorrow night. The light will be perfect, and the forest is quieter then.”
Shinobu arched an eyebrow. “Tomorrow? You sound very sure of yourself.”
“I am sure of him,” Kyojuro said simply, his gaze landing on Akaza with a grin that left no room for doubt.
Akaza looked away first, muttering something under his breath that neither of them quite caught.
Shinobu, however, caught the faintest shade of color in his ears.
The corner of Shinobu’s mouth tugged upward enough to make Akaza narrow his eyes at her in faint suspicion.
“What,” he said flatly.
“Nothing,” she replied, far too quickly. “Just… curious how tomorrow will go.”
Kyojuro leaned back, satisfied. “It will go brilliantly. You’ll see.”
Akaza gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re acting like this is some kind of performance.”
“It is,” Kyojuro said, unbothered. “You’re showing Shinobu what you can do. Convincing her. Winning her over.”
“I don’t need to win her over,” Akaza muttered.
“You need her trust,” Kyojuro corrected warmly. “Same thing.”
Shinobu sipped the last of her tea, letting the two of them volley words back and forth. She set the cup down with deliberate care before speaking. “If I’m coming, we’ll also set boundaries for range, time, and… consumption.”
Akaza froze. “…Consumption?”
Her gaze was level. “You will not empty an animal entirely. You will not make a mess that can’t be covered. And you will not leave evidence that might attract the wrong kind of attention.”
Kyojuro winced slightly. “We already do that.”
“Then I’ll see you both at dusk.”
Kyojuro beamed, rising to his feet with his usual energy. “Perfect! I’ll prepare supplies.”
As he strode out, humming, Shinobu and Akaza were left alone in the quiet.
Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer before she, too, stood. “You’ll be tired tomorrow if you don’t rest.”
Akaza’s gaze followed her toward the door. “You don’t trust me,” he whispered.
She paused in the doorway, her profile framed by the fading light. “…Not yet.”
“I want you to trust me.”
“Then prove to me that I can trust you.” She turned away.
“ Shinobu.” He said her name like he was begging, “How much more do you want from me?”
She froze, “It's been months. I don't know what you want me to do. This whole time I've been so angry, I'm angry at you.”
Her breath hitched, “I have tried so hard. And it's never enough for you.”
His hands curled into fists and a small tremor shot through him. “Why can't you just accept me as I am? I thought you did… when you would sit with me even when I screamed at you to go away. When you would hold me, and tell me that it wasn't my fault. You were never scared of me. Not when I lashed out, not when I had panic attacks so bad that Kyojuro would have to hold me down.”
His arms wrapped around his center, his eyes blurred with tears. “You never gave up on me. So why— why did it change? Have you finally decided that I'm not worth being saved?”
“Akaza…”
“Why did you change? Had I done something wrong? Have you finally decided to give up on me?”
“Akaza, that's not wha—”
“I'm never going to be a human! You used to never expect me to be like a human! I miss that, you never used to look at me like I was a monster.” Tears burned his cheeks as they rolled down his face falling onto his clenched hands.
Shinobu stood frozen her eyes had gone wide, like she didn't believe what had been said. Her mouth was slightly open as she stared down at Akaza like he had grown a second head.
A sob escaped him, a pathetic sound, weak. “ Why did you even save me?”
That broke something in her. It hurt more than it should, she felt her heart sink into her stomach as it started beating frantically. “Akaza! No, no— that's not what I mean!”
She fell to her knees next to him, hands reaching out to him, “I— I— that's not what I mean—”
“Sometimes I wish you had left me there. It would've saved you a lot of time.”
“Akaza no please, don't say things like that!”
He looked up at her his eyes overflowing with tears his bottom lip trembling like a child. “I— “
“You don't have to lie to me. I know you regret it”
She felt her heart break with the realization of what she had just done. Again. Again, she had let her hatred cloud her judgment. Again had she mistreated Akaza. Again. She looked at him like something broken, and maybe he was broken. Something she had meticulously pieced back together, only to carelessly break apart.
She was swarmed with her memories of her time with Akaza, sitting next to him when he was so scared to sleep, changing bandages slowly so as not to make him panic, the constant reassurance that he was safe, that she would never let anyone hurt him again. The way his hands would tremble before finally letting her touch him. The soft, hesitant way he’d glance at her after she praised him, as though trying to decide if he could believe her.
The careful way she’d coax him out of the corner when he’d shut down completely.
The feel of his weight leaning against her when he was too exhausted to stand on his own. The rare, fleeting smile that felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. The nights she stayed awake, listening for the restless shifting that meant another nightmare had come. The unspoken trust in the way he let her wipe blood from his face without flinching.
“Akaza, please look at me. I have never regretted helping you.”
His eyes flicked to hers, “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know that I'm a burden.”
“No, no, no, no. No don't say that.” Thoughtlessly she reached out to him, and she moved her body to get closer to him as her arms wrapped around him. Cradling him to her chest.
“I haven't given up on you! I promise! I— I would never do that, I swear. You're not a monster. You're not a monster.” She whispered the words into his hair her voice starting to shake.
“You didn't do anything wrong! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Akaza. You didn't do anything wrong. I-t’s me. I'm the one who did something wrong, I'm sorry.”
Akaza shifted he pushed away from Shinobu so he could see her face. “If that's true, then why do I feel like you're lying to me?”
She shook her head frantically, “I'm not. I'm not, just don't say things like that.”
“Then why? Why did you change? Why do you keep pushing me away?”
“I— I… I don't know.” The silence echoed around the room.
“Do you hate me?”
“No!”
“Are you scared of me?”
“No— no I… I’m not scared of you Akaza, never. But I'm scared about you.”
“I'm scared that you will get hurt, or killed.”
“I like being in control of things.”
“What?”
“I like being in control. It feels safe. I'm scared that something bad might happen if I'm not in control. And Akaza, I'm so terribly scared about losing the people I care about. I didn't know that this is how you felt the whole time. That—’ her voice broke, ‘That you think I don't care.”
“Shinobu?”
“Yeah?”
“No more rules no more controlling what I can't and can do. I can't take it anymore. And I know you don't believe Kyojuro, but I am better . And that's only because there are no rules with me and Kyojuro. Just precautions. We always have each other's backs and if something actually happened we would figure it out together.”
“Okay, okay. I'm sorry.”
“I forgive you.”
Shinobu let out a shaky breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Her hands lingered on his arms, hesitant, as though afraid that letting go would undo the fragile thread between them.
Akaza’s eyes were still locked on hers steady, searching like he was trying to read every flicker of her expression. The intensity made her chest ache.
“I mean it,” he said softly. “I forgive you. Even if you don’t forgive yourself yet.”
Her throat tightened. “I don’t deserve that.”
“Maybe not,” he said, but there was no cruelty in it. Just truth. “But I’m giving it anyway.”
Something in her broke. She pulled him in again, this time without hesitation, feeling the way he tensed for half a heartbeat before melting into her hold. His forehead pressed against her shoulder, and for a long moment neither of them spoke.
When he did, his voice was quiet—uncertain. “So… no more rules?”
Her lips curved in the faintest smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “No more rules. Just… precautions. Like you and Kyojuro have.”
Akaza’s shoulders loosened, and she felt him nod against her. “Good. Because I can’t do this if I feel like I’m in a cage again.”
“I know,” she murmured. “I don’t want you to feel that way. I just… I wanted to keep you safe, but I think I forgot that safety doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone.”
His hand twitched, then rested lightly against her side not holding her, but not pulling away either. “Then maybe you can trust me enough to keep myself safe, too.”
Shinobu’s breath caught. “I’ll try.”
It wasn’t a perfect promise, but when he finally leaned into her with the barest, contented purr, she thought it might be enough for now.