- he became paranoid and nervous,
- he reacted too quickly, too impulsively,
- the other Hashira began to avoid his gaze because there was something wild about him.
A boy with pink hair with aquamarine-green tips, tall, muscular, and a smile so warm it could melt snow. The Hashira of Love.
He ate incredibly much—usually as much as 20 meals a day. Strong as a beast, but with a heart as soft as mochi,
always polite, kind, and blushing for no reason.
When he fell in love with Nika... he began to lose control of his emotions:
Shinobi. A boy with dark hair that faded to purple, with a cold, mysterious gaze. The Hashira of Insects.
Quiet, stoic, he almost never showed emotion, fascinated by poisons, insects, and anything delicate yet deadly. Around Nika, he changed in a dangerous way: – he chased other boys away from her, – once even pushing one away, losing control of his strength,
Nika. Gentle, polite, always with a tray of food in his hands. Every Hashira liked her, but two loved her too much: • Shinobu taught her how to mix poisons and identify rare insects, • Mitsuri invited her to dinner under the cherry trees—always too much food, always too much blushing.
Both were jealous. Neither knew how to hide it.
Nika opened the door to the Hashira house. In a second, she realized something was wrong.
Mitsuri and Shinobu stood right next to each other. Too close.
Too… synchronous.
– Nika! Mitsuri jumped up to her, his hair quivering like cherry blossoms.
"You've finally arrived," Shinobu added, his voice gentle but disturbingly low.
Before she could ask, they led her deeper into the house. Their hands—steady, warm, a little too strong—held her on either side.
The door slid open, revealing a romantic room:
• walls decorated with drawings of cherry blossoms and butterflies, • a window covered with a semi-transparent fabric, • three futons arranged side by side, • lanterns giving off a soft, pink-purple light.
The shinobi approached first.
In his hand was a delicate butterfly-shaped hair clip.
"It's a female," he explained quietly. "It matches mine. See? I have a male."
A tiny symbol. Dangerously intimate.
Mitsuri handed her a huge basket of food—more than anyone could eat. On top were green socks, identical to his.
"I wanted you to have something soft and comfortable... like me," he said, blushing to the ears.
Then they both unveiled a kimono stand:
half pink and green like Mitsuri, half purple and black like Shinobu.
Nika felt the two Hashira intertwine their fingers with hers.
"Stay with us tonight," Mitsuri pleaded, his voice trembling.
"You're safe here," Shinobu added, his tone firm, absolute.