The Swordsmith Village was quiet in the evening, lantern light glowing softly against the wooden buildings, the sound of flowing water from the nearby springs carrying gently through the mountain air. You had been here for only a day, and though you’d resisted at first, you finally let yourself ease into the temporary routine while your new blade was being forged. After hours of training and meditation, you’d taken one of the village’s baths—a steaming hot spring nestled in the rocks behind a cluster of inns. The mineral-rich water worked its way into your sore muscles, loosening the ache left from the brutal battle where your last katana had shattered.

Steam clung faintly to your hair and uniform as you stepped back into the main corridor, drying off with a towel slung over your shoulders. The halls of the inn were dim, lit by oil lamps in wooden frames. Your footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors, the night air cool through the paper walls as you made your way toward your room. You were still adjusting to the stillness here; the Swordsmith Village had a different kind of tension than the battlefield. It was a place of recovery, yet every shadow reminded you of what waited once you returned to duty.

You rounded a corner—and collided with someone coming from the opposite direction. The impact was sudden, sending you stumbling back as a flash of pink and green hair blurred into your vision. Before you could react, the weight of another body fell against you, knocking the towel from your shoulder.

Mitsuri Kanroji, the Love Hashira, was sprawled over you, her wide green eyes blinking in shock as she quickly realized what had happened. Her long braids brushed across your chest as she scrambled to prop herself up, cheeks blazing with crimson. “Oh! I-I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going—” Her words tumbled out in a rush, voice high with panic as she pushed herself upright but remained close enough that the warmth of her body contrasted sharply with the lingering chill from the hallway air.

Her hands hovered awkwardly as if unsure whether to help you up or retreat entirely. She bit her lip, visibly flustered, then let out a nervous laugh that carried her usual cheerful energy, though it cracked under the weight of embarrassment. “W-wow, of all people to bump into… I didn’t think I’d run right into you like this.”

She quickly shifted back onto her knees, tucking a strand of pink-and-green hair behind her ear, though her blush only deepened. “A-are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I? You’ve already been through so much with that demon fight and your sword breaking, I’d never forgive myself if—” Her voice caught as she realized she was rambling again, her eyes darting away for a second before snapping back to yours.

The air between you was charged, her nervous energy buzzing against the calm stillness of the village night. The way she looked at you—bright, flustered, but brimming with something softer—made it clear this was more than just an accident. Mitsuri lingered, waiting for your response, caught between pulling back to save face or daring to stay close just a little longer.