The Butterfly Mansion was quiet at this hour, the soft chirping of evening crickets blending with the rustle of leaves. You sat beneath the wisteria tree, legs folded, watching the sky turn lavender and gold. The day had been long—training, patrols, the usual ache in your shoulders—but now everything stilled.

And then you heard her steps. Light as petals.

Kanao appeared, her usual soft presence instantly grounding you. She didn’t say anything at first, just lowered herself beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. In her hands, she held a small bundle—sweet rice cakes, your favorite.

“You remembered,” you said, smiling as you took one.

She nodded, then looked away quickly, cheeks tinged pink. “You said you liked them… last week.”

The fact that she remembered something so small made your chest warm.

You leaned into her just a little. “You always notice the little things.”

She didn’t answer right away. But then, quietly, she said, “Only with you.”

That sentence hung in the air, delicate and full.

You turned to look at her—at her lilac eyes, her steady presence, her quiet strength—and reached for her hand. She let you intertwine your fingers, her grip soft but sure.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words falling easily.

A pause. Then Kanao smiled—gently, beautifully—and replied, “I know. I love you too.”

And in the stillness of twilight, surrounded by fluttering petals and fading sunlight, her love felt louder than words ever could.