It had been ten days since the battle on the snowy mountain when Tomioka Giyu was finally able to walk again.
The morning sunlight filtered through the wooden lattice windows of the Butterfly Mansion courtyard, scattering across the stone tiles in gentle, golden patches.
He wore a loose white patient's robe, a wooden practice staff held firmly in his hand—Shinobu refused to let him use a real sword yet. She said his lungs hadn't fully healed and that sudden exertion could worsen the damage.
Standing in the open yard, Giyu spread his feet and took the stance of the Hinokami Kagura.
His breathing slowed as the rhythm of Sun Breathing flowed steadily through his body—not as fierce or scorching as before, but calm and fluid, like a quiet flame that warmed rather than burned.
The practice staff drew smooth arcs through the air, each motion slow but precise, perfectly replicating every movement of the sacred dance—raising his hand, turning, swinging—each action synchronized with the rhythm of his breath, like a ritual performed in silent devotion.
Kocho Shinobu sat on the wooden railing of the veranda, a small notebook in hand. The tip of her pen occasionally scratched across the paper, but her eyes rarely left Giyu's figure.
She claimed she was there to record his recovery progress. But ever since he'd begun training again, she had sat in that same spot every day at the same time. The notebook in her hands barely filled a few lines, her focus clearly elsewhere.
"Slow your breathing a little," she said suddenly, her voice light but precise. "Your lungs aren't fully healed yet. Going too fast will strain the wounds."
Giyu paused briefly, adjusting his rhythm. Sure enough, he slowed his breathing, and the staff's movements became gentler.
He turned slightly toward her, and Shinobu immediately lowered her head, pretending to jot something down. The tips of her ears flushed faintly pink—his steady, earnest gaze had caught her off guard.
Without a word, Giyu continued his slow, graceful movements.
Sunlight poured over him, dyeing his white robe with a faint golden hue. Beads of sweat gathered on his temples, glittering under the light.
Shinobu watched his silhouette and thought about the past ten days—changing his bandages, reminding him to rest, feeding him his medicine. Every time their hands accidentally touched, she would instinctively pull away. And every time his quiet, gentle eyes met hers, she'd find herself turning aside, her heart thumping faster.
The feeling was unfamiliar, as if a restless rabbit had taken up residence in her chest—nervous, uncertain, yet somehow… warm.
But she reminded herself who they were. He was a Hashira; she was the Butterfly Mansion's physician. Between them lay both duty and an unspoken distance she wasn't sure how to cross.
"Here, have some water."
Shinobu stood, lifting a small kettle from the stone table. She poured a cup of warm water and walked toward him, stopping just short of arm's reach.
Giyu lowered his staff and accepted the cup.
Their fingers brushed lightly for a moment—both froze, then quickly pulled back.
Giyu tilted his head down and took a sip, using the motion to hide the faint warmth in his expression. Shinobu turned away, fussing with the bottles on the table, though the faint curve at her lips betrayed her mood.
"Your Hinokami Kagura looks much smoother than before," she said after a moment, breaking the silence. "Your breathing is more stable too."
"Yeah."
He handed the cup back to her. "Tanjuro-san's guidance helped a lot."
Shinobu nodded, taking the cup carefully—his touch still lingered faintly on the porcelain. "And Tanjiro? You haven't visited him in a while, have you?"
"Tō said Tanjiro's been practicing his breathing technique every day," Giyu replied, his voice softening slightly. "Tanjuro-san's health is stable. Suzuki checks on them regularly and sends me reports."
Before Shinobu could respond, a cheerful voice echoed from the gate.
"Shinobu! Tomioka-san! We came to visit!"
Kocho Kanae entered the courtyard in a pale pink haori, her face bright with warmth. Beside her walked Shinazugawa Sanemi, carrying a food box with his usual impatient expression—though he didn't pull away when Kanae's hand brushed his arm.
Both Giyu and Shinobu blinked in surprise. Kanae and the Wind Hashira seemed… closer than before.
"Nee-san, what are you doing here?" Shinobu asked, startled. "Are you sure you're fully recovered?"
"Of course I am!" Kanae laughed, waving her arm energetically. "I'm the fastest to heal. But you, little sister—you've been so busy watching over Tomioka-san every day, you haven't even come see me!"
"I— I was just… recording his recovery progress!"
Shinobu's face turned crimson. She quickly pulled her arm free and stepped back, instinctively putting distance between herself and Giyu.
"And there's a lot of work at the Butterfly Mansion, so I haven't had the time…"
"Oh? Really?"
Kanae drew out her words teasingly, her eyes glancing between Shinobu and Giyu with a knowing smile. "That's strange. I heard someone's been coming here every single day, right on time, to 'record notes'—and hasn't even filled a full page yet."
Shinobu's face turned crimson. She lowered her head, fingers gripping the hem of her robe, completely unable to speak.
Sanemi let out a short huff and set the food box down on the stone table, cutting through the awkward air. "Stop teasing already. I brought food."
"Kanae made red bean cakes," he added gruffly. "Said it's to help you two invalids regain some strength."
He opened the box, releasing a light, sweet aroma. Inside were several delicate red bean cakes, still faintly warm.
"I made plenty," Kanae said cheerfully, picking up a piece and handing it to Shinobu. "You love these, don't you?"
Then she turned to Giyu, holding out another. "Here, Tomioka-san—try some. You need to eat something good for your recovery. Don't overdo your training and wear yourself out again."
Giyu accepted it quietly. The warmth spread through his fingers, the soft sweetness rising to meet him. He wasn't fond of sweets, but he took a bite anyway. The red bean paste melted smoothly on his tongue—soft, balanced, not overly sweet. It was better than the dorayaki Tō once shared with him.
"…Thanks," he murmured.
"No need to thank me!" Kanae smiled, eyes curving like a crescent moon. "Oh right, Oyakata-sama sent word earlier. They're tracking Douma's movements. After that last retreat, he disappeared completely—likely still hiding in the northern region. We've been told to stay alert."
At the mention of Douma, Giyu's eyes darkened. "I understand. Once I've recovered, I'll head north to investigate."
"Don't rush it," Sanemi said bluntly. His tone was rough as always, but a trace of concern hid beneath it. "You're still half-broken. What are you gonna do, cough him to death? Kanae and I are already watching the north. Wait until you can hold a real sword before charging out again."
Giyu met his gaze briefly but didn't argue. He knew Sanemi meant well—and he also knew his body wasn't ready.
Shinobu nodded in agreement. "You'll need at least another half month before you're completely recovered. Don't push yourself. With Nee-san and Shinazugawa-san there, nothing will go wrong."
Kanae watched them, her expression softening into quiet amusement.
It was obvious to her—Shinobu's care for Giyu wasn't just professional. And Giyu, though usually stoic, treated Shinobu with a gentleness he didn't show anyone else.
But both of them were hopeless—one too shy, the other too quiet. They tiptoed around their feelings, keeping a polite distance that made even Kanae impatient just watching.
"All right then, we'll leave you two alone," Kanae said suddenly, tugging lightly at Sanemi's arm. "Shinobu, don't forget to come home sometimes, okay? You can't spend all day here 'taking notes' every time."
Shinobu's face turned scarlet again. She could only nod quickly, avoiding her sister's grin.
After Kanae and Sanemi left, the courtyard fell silent once more.
Giyu lifted his practice staff, ready to resume, but Shinobu's voice stopped him.
"Wait a moment."
She walked up to him, pulling a small folded paper packet from her pocket and handing it to him. "This is a new lung-repair formula I made. Brew it with hot water—it'll help your lungs heal faster."
Giyu accepted it. Their fingertips brushed again, brief and careful. He noticed the faint pink tint at the edge of her ear and said quietly, "Thank you."
"…You don't have to thank me. It's my duty."
With that, Shinobu turned swiftly and returned to the veranda, sitting back down with her notebook. But she didn't write a single word.
Her gaze, no matter how hard she tried to keep it fixed on the page, kept wandering back to the figure in the courtyard. Her heartbeat thudded unevenly again, that restless "rabbit" inside her chest starting to jump all over the place.
Giyu looked down at the medicine packet in his hand, then back toward her. The faintest smile tugged at his lips.
He gripped the staff again, resetting his stance for the Hinokami Kagura. His breathing grew smoother, steadier.
The sunlight was warm, the air scented faintly of flowers and herbs carried by the breeze.
One still, one in motion—separated by only a few steps, yet wrapped in a quiet, unspoken warmth that lingered gently between them.
The road to full recovery would still be long, and the dangers ahead remained waiting.
But for now, this moment—this simple, wordless peace—was a light of its own.
A fleeting warmth between battles, a small, precious calm amid the storm.