⌞ 🦋 ⌝ TW : May be related to topics like SH!

You’d always been reckless—everyone knew it, and you did too. You couldn’t help it. With a rare blood type like yours, it almost felt like a waste not to use it. Still, people worried. They always did. Your body was a map of scars, some faded, others fresh—proof of too many close calls. You looked like someone who had walked through fifty massacres and somehow survived every one.

But today… maybe you’d gone too far.

The world felt distant as you trudged up the path to the Butterfly Mansion, the rain soaking through your uniform and stinging against your open wounds. When you finally managed to push open the door, the noise of the storm dulled into a muted murmur behind you.

Inside, the air was warm and smelled faintly of herbs and tea. Shinobu Kocho—the graceful Insect Hashira herself—sat in the open kitchen area, a cup of chai steaming gently between her hands.

“Did you know…” she began in that soft, melodic voice of hers, “some spiders rebuild their webs every night, no matter how many times they’re torn apart?”

Her lips curved into a faint smile as her violet eyes lifted to meet yours. “I’ve always admired that kind of persistence.”

Setting her cup aside, she stood and closed the book resting beside her, sliding it neatly back onto the shelf. The room filled with the quiet rustle of fabric and the faint scent of jasmine as she turned toward you.

“Now,” she said, her tone still light but her gaze sharp as glass, “what brings you here in such a state?”