I wouldn’t know what love feels like, even if it cut me in half.
Those words struck me like a blade, sharp and unyielding, echoing in my mind long after he said them. The way he looked at me, that cold indifference—I felt it dismantle me from the inside out, each word pulling me apart, exposing everything I’d tried to bury, every vulnerability I’d pretended not to feel. In that moment, I felt hollow, as if every part of me had shattered beyond recognition.
“Only a fool would marry a cow like you…”
I didn’t want to believe him, but his voice lingered, seeping into my bones like poison. I couldn’t help it; every night, as I lay alone in the dark, the words replayed over and over, a relentless loop of shame and self-doubt. I wished I could be someone else, someone smaller, someone whose softness made them worth loving, worth keeping. Someone whose heart could fit, whole and unbroken, in hands that cared enough to cradle it.
But that will never happen. This heart of mine is too scarred, too damaged, and the hands that might have once been gentle are nowhere to be found. I am left with the pieces, jagged and sharp, and the ache of a love that was never mine to feel.
———
I tried again, becoming someone else, reinventing myself just to be noticed. I was desperate. Desperate to be seen, to be cherished, to feel warmth that wasn’t manufactured in my own mind.
The need for love was so strong that it twisted inside me, a trembling hunger that shook my hands as I walked. Every step I took felt heavy, weighted with anticipation and shame.
I wanted to be loved so desperately that my fingers shook with it.
I am not beautiful
But I could be.
Maybe, with enough effort, enough illusion, I could be someone worthy of adoration.
I could see the bridge up ahead, the familiar silhouette of the man I’d arranged to meet waiting under its archway. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat louder than the last, threatening to break free from my ribcage. With every step closer, shame welled up within me. It bubbled and burned, reminding me that this wasn’t the first time I’d done this. I’d come here before, hoping, pretending, crafting a new self to offer.
How could I do this again? My fingers trembled with nerves, and my breathing grew shallow. How could I continue this charade, hiding myself beneath layers of someone else? I was fraying at the edges, and I could feel it.
“Kanroji-san?” he called softly as I approached.
“Mhm…” I managed to answer, my voice barely a whisper. There was a knot in my stomach, a tightness that coiled and twisted, warning me of something I couldn’t name.
“How are you?” he asked, so gently, as if sensing my hesitation.
And in that moment, something inside me shattered. The fragile web of my pretenses unraveled, and the weight of it all tore through me. All the thoughts, all the doubts, all the self-doubt I had tried to bury came rushing to the surface, relentless and raw.
Without another word, I turned and ran, my feet pounding against the pavement as I left him standing there, my thoughts left behind to decay under the shadow of the bridge. I ran home, away from him, away from the lies I’d been telling myself.
Because in a world where I couldn’t live as myself, I wouldn’t survive anyway.
_____
That day felt so extraordinarily bright, as if the entire sky had decided to take pity on me. The clouds had cleared, and the sun shone with an intensity that felt personal, like a warmth that wrapped itself around my heart.
Rengoku Kyojuro was the one who had shown me there was something more—something bigger, something brighter—than the life I had been leading. He carried himself with a strength and kindness that drew people to him, a radiance that seemed to cut through even the darkest moments. Rengoku Kyojuro was the sun, blazing with life, and I was more than willing to be bathed in his light.
“You’re doing well, Mitsuri-san!” he called out, his voice filled with his usual joyful energy. “But try to focus the sweeping motion from your shoulder blades rather than your arms. Swing like you’re meant to!” He laughed, that warm, thunderous sound that made everything feel possible.
Swing like I’m meant to. His words lingered in my mind, gentle but firm, challenging but kind. Each strike I made felt guided by his spirit, as if his belief in me pushed me forward.
______
Her hands moved so softly over my shoulders, her touch light but deliberate, almost reverent. Despite the gentle movements, there was no mistaking the diligence behind them.
My heartbeat quickened, thudding louder in my chest as I felt her breath brush against my face, displacing a few stray hairs. The scent of wisteria and lavender wrapped itself around me, calming and intoxicating all at once.
A tingling warmth spread through me, a buzz that drowned out every other sensation—a quiet, humming hope I hadn’t realized I’d been longing for.
“Here you go, Kanroji-san,” she said, my name rolling off her tongue with such tenderness it felt like a caress. Each syllable seemed to glaze over my heart, leaving it coated in something warm and sweet, like sugar melting on my skin.
“Or should I call you… Kanroji-sama?” she teased, a playful giggle following her words. The sound wasn’t just a laugh; it was healing in itself. It stitched up wounds that medicine and bandages couldn’t reach, filling the broken pieces of my soul with a melody I didn’t know I needed.
I blinked, momentarily stunned. “What do you mean?” My voice wavered, unsure of the weight behind her words.
She tilted her head slightly, an expression of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Haven’t you heard? Well, I suppose you wouldn’t have, not with how much time you’ve spent here healing.” Her voice softened, but her smile grew. “You’re a Hashira now, Kanroji-sama. Congratulations.”
For a moment, the words didn’t quite register. A Hashira? Me? My lips parted slightly in disbelief. After everything… after all the doubt and struggle… finally, I’d found my place.
“I… Thank you,” I murmured, my voice almost lost in the space between us.
The room felt colder somehow, or maybe it was just me. Perhaps it was the weight of the title settling over me, weaving itself into my chest like a heavy cloak. Or maybe it was something else entirely—something unspoken and far more profound, warming and grounding me in a way I couldn’t yet name.
_______
“The moon is quite beautiful tonight, don’t you think, Mitsuri-san?” Her voice, soft yet laced with quiet confidence, sliced through the night like a melody. The formality we once upheld had long dissolved, replaced by a comfortable familiarity. The warmth of the evening had seeped into our bones, and the distant conversations from down the hall melted into an indistinct hum. Nothing could distract me, not when I was in the presence of the most captivating woman alive.
“Hm? Oh, yes, it’s very beautiful, Shinobu-san.” My reply came with an uncontrollable smile, one that had stretched across my face so many times in her company. It was the kind of smile that left my cheeks sore by the end of the night, but I didn’t mind. She had that effect on me, drawing out happiness in its purest form. How could I help it when she made me feel this way?
She turned to look at me, her gaze soft but intent, as though she could see right through to the depths of my soul. Something stirred in her violet eyes—a mystery I dared not unravel. I didn’t need to. It was enough that she looked at me like that, as though her mere presence was stitching together wounds I hadn’t even realized were there.
I wondered if this was how people became close—by tending to one another’s hidden scars. She seemed to understand this instinctively, mending what was broken with every word, every glance, every fleeting touch. Shinobu wasn’t just a healer in name or duty. She was a healer by nature. Everyone she encountered carried a piece of her light, a fragment of her care.
But there were things I knew about her that no one else did. Like the way her eyes crinkled in genuine delight when she smiled, or how her brows knitted together when she fell into deep thought. These small, quiet truths felt like treasures, moments she shared only with me. And she, in turn, knew parts of me no one else had the privilege of seeing.
That intimacy, that closeness—it had changed me.
Now that I know this kind of love exists, I can’t unlearn it. I can’t pretend to be the person I was before, someone unaware of what it means to be so completely, utterly seen. I love her, not just for who she is, but for the version of myself she’s awakened—the version that came alive the day we met.
And I know, without a doubt, that this love is real because it feels like coming home.
_____
My dearest, kanroji.
There are days when I find myself utterly captivated by you—your kindness, your laughter, and the boundless warmth you exude. Somehow, you seem to hold all the love that exists in the universe in the palm of your hands, sprinkling it on the people you adore. You have so much love to give, it’s baffling how a single human being can store so much of it inside themselves. And yet, perhaps it must be possible, because you exist, and you are brimming with it.
The gentle fondness in your eyes as you look at the people you love—it’s enchanting. Some days, I allow myself to imagine being under that gaze of yours. I imagine the weight of your affection settling on me like a warm embrace. And in those moments, I melt, I melt, I melt.
I’ve tried to pinpoint the exact moment when my heart fell for you, but it slips through my grasp every time, like a fleeting breeze. Yet, there is one memory that lingers, vivid and unshakable. I looked at you with your eyes closed, the little upward curl of your smile soft and unguarded, and I saw the sun and the sea and the whole world beaming back at me. And I loved you. In that moment, I knew I loved you.
You are sunlight on my skin, the sweetness of spring's first bloom, the quiet assurance that even on the hardest days, there is something beautiful waiting to be noticed. To love you is to feel the world shift into color, as if it has always been waiting for you to arrive.
Even as I write this, my words feel inadequate, too small to hold the enormity of what you mean to me. But if this letter can capture even a fraction of my heart, I hope it reaches you and wraps around you like an embrace.
Yours,
Shinobu