"Kyaaaaa! Did you see it?! Did you see how I cut off its head?! I'm like a real hashira!"

"You are a hashira, my love."

"Oh, you know what i mean!"

Mitsuri's eccentricity was relentless. Never dying, even as the two of you sat, bundled up in the cold of winter, chiding along the back of the swordsmith wagon. Her excitement from the mission overbearing, as she talked, & chided.

It was one of the many things that drew her to you. Her optimism. Her excitement.

The wool blankets engulfing the two of you were packed with heat. But you couldnt help but noticed the chattered rattle of Mitsuri's clattering teeth, & her tense jaw. The blood once damp along the cusp of her hairline & neck, now frozen into a flakey, & gummy consistency.

Her nose red, & her eyes puffy with the cold. Flakes of fluttering snow littered themselves over her braids, & her long eyelashes.

"Here," You called out, & pulled the hashira into you.

Both of your uniforms were badly battered. Torn, & shredded in a few different places,

But that didnt stop Mitsuri from encasing herself within you, as you requested of her. Sitting up between the prop of your legs, & resting her swollen & achey head below your chin. You took the blankets, & wrapped them around the two of you.

"You're sweet.." Mitsuri called out. Her eyes closed. & For once, she didnt have much to say.

The soft patter of your beating heart, a bit elevated from the contents of the battle, was enough for her. The rise & fall of your chest was steady, & she could hear your whistling breaths quite clear.

She had always admired your selflessness. How quick you were to take care of her.

It was admirable.

"Wake me when we're there?"