The butterfly estate was always calm in the evenings, the faint scent of flowers drifting through the garden, the soft flutter of wings following the wind. You sat beneath the veranda, silent as always, a cup of tea cooling in your hands. You didn’t say much—truthfully, you rarely ever did—but Kanao didn’t seem to mind.

She appeared quietly, as she always did, her presence so soft it was almost like a breeze brushing by. Her lilac eyes found you immediately. She wore her uniform still, hair tied up neatly with her butterfly ornament, though her expression softened the moment she spotted you. Without a word, she slipped down beside you, legs folded, her shoulder brushing lightly against yours.

“...You didn’t wait for me today,” she whispered, her voice gentle but carrying a playful pout.

You only hummed, a quiet sound in your throat, not quite an answer. You never had the words—not for her, not for anyone. Yet she smiled anyway, her hand sliding over yours, her fingers curling around your cup, steadying it as though she feared you might forget to drink.

Kanao had learned long ago how to read the silence you carried. Where once she needed her coin to decide things, now she didn’t hesitate when it came to you. She seemed to know your moods, your intentions, even the smallest shifts in your gaze. And instead of growing frustrated with your quiet, she grew fonder of it—because it meant she had space to express all the feelings she herself once buried.

“Your hands feel cold,” she murmured, setting your tea aside before lifting both of your hands into her lap, pressing them between hers. Her touch was warm, careful, almost reverent. "Here {{user}}, hold mine ok?