Butterflies' Dance - [A Kimetsu No Yaiba Full Story]

Chapitre 22

 "To think that..."

   She sighed, trying to cover the overwhelming feelings. She would miss those images.

 "My, my, Mister Tomioka, what happened to you ? Did you lose all your strength pushing me in a wheelchair ? Are you truly Death's head upon a mop stick ?"

   He did not respond and pushed her gently. Not that he felt guilty about the situation, right ?

   Shinobu pivoted, trying to see his face, but he had a neutral expression all along.

   Huffing, she accepted she could not stand him. He drove her mad.

   Finally, he guided her to the scene. Tears pricked at the corner of her big purple eyes. She closed her fist. How she would miss this place, once it would be gone. A final look around her propriety before she would have to let it go, to let go of all of those memories made here.

   Someone turned around the corner, and she recognized the diligent girl. She looked horrible, like a ghost with this pale skin and the marks on her face. She straightened, uttering a quick "Miss Kocho.", before running and calling the remaining residents. Soon, they were all here, paralyzed.

 "Well, that is awkward. But not as much as this cow handed man, am I right ?"

   Her protégés, came to her with open arms, hugging her as tightly as they could, some crying, happy to see her back. The butterfly lady gave a coquettish chuckle, but she was above all overjoyed to see them safe and sound. Even with some of them missing.

 "I am content to see you, all strong. It must have been thanks to Aoi's cooking." She smiled, a sincere smile. "Look at you, Inosuke, you have gained muscle. I still hope you can manage to be as flexible as before."

   His chest puffed with pride.

 "I am the strongest, the Great Inosuke, am I not, master ?"

 - You sure are." She turned towards her sister. "Kanao, you have grown up." She placed her hand on her cheek. "And not in the physical sense of the word. You have matured. I can feel an aura coming from you. Freeing, is it ?"

   Kanao leaned in the touch, grabbing it with her own hands.

 "And you ?" Her eyes gleamed. "You... I am sorry for what you have been through. I promise that, despite the closure of this place, I will find you a place in the most exceptional ballet dancer groups. I have failed as a teacher, but I will not as your guide." She leaned back on the wooden material. "Let us go, I still have to fill some paper with the Duke of Limbs over there." She waited. Weird. "Mister Tomioka ? Out of breath, already ?"

   His blue eyes were staring at her, then at the ground, a melancholy present in them. It made her uncomfortable, as her throat tightened. Did he take at heart what she was saying ?

   Miss Kocho huffed :
 "Well ? Toughen up. You're such a go-alonger."

   Unbeknownst by her, he closed his eyes, his lips drawn in a fine line, and exhaled to keep his composure. He made a movement, nodding to the teenagers, before taking her to her office.

   Nezuko was staying with the blithesome and easy-going Miss Kanroji — or Mitsuri. She had been kind with her since the beginning, and she loved it when she braided her two toned hair. She was passionate about her job, and what made her more cheerful, was when she created costumes for theatre or dance. She loved fairytales, and she said it herself, that it made her, somehow, part of them.

   She repeated it again today, as she tidied up her belongings, with a downhearted smile.

   They had not any reason to stay anymore. It was a nice office, for both of the adults, the writer and the costume designer, where they could work on their individual work, and maybe, secretly, glance at each other and exchange stories and secrets about them.

   They were cleaning up their stuff, sometimes stopping to share a last sentence, a last word. They were working as slowly as they could, until the pain was starting to appear, until they remarked that they depended on the other so much that they were sharing most of their things.

   Her long fingers, which she often pricked with needles, took hold of a framed drawing.

 "You remember this, Mister Obanai." She turned it slightly towards him. His differently colored eyes widened.

   Seeing the girl's interrogative face, she showed her :
 "See, Miss Nezuko. This is me when I was younger." And she was right. A young girl, around her own age, plump, with her hair, pink and green, tied in a loose bun. Her big eyes were sparkling, and next to her were different people. A tall teenager with white hair, looking irritated, next to a girl looking the same as Kanao, only older. A younger version of Miss Kocho she recognized with a surprise that made the seamstress smile tenderly.
   Others were there : One with white hair tied in a bun, one with fiery hair and, at the back, a man with dark hair and tan skin towering them.

   She looked back at the first one, and decided that it was definitely the same one, only less curvy and in a tutu. The pinkish nail travelled a bit more on the side.

 "And can you guess who this one is ?"

   A minikin with black hair, and mismatched eyes stand to the side. He seemed awfully awkward and anxious. Her sakura opened in shock. Was it– ?

   She merrily smiled, jumping a bit :
 "Yes ! That is Mister Obanai. It is amazing to know that we have known each other for such a long time, is it not ?" She leaned and whispered, spreading a puff of her strong perfume made of rose (or peony, perhaps), yuzu and musk, it seemed — her nose not being as good as her brother's — : "And he still does not want to call me by my first name, can you believe it ?"

 - I can hear you, Lady Kanroji." he said, behind his scarf, trying to hide his flustered face.

   A tug on her sleeve made her turn again :
 "Do you not want to dance anymore ?"

 - Dance ? Oh, I loved it. A lot. But people keep saying that I am too old." She lowered her voice : "And not in shape."

   A click of the tongue dismissed these negative thoughts.

 "But they are right."

 - No. They are not. You are beautiful, Lady Kanroji, and you were radiant on the scene. You should be the one deciding what you want to make with your future."

   Noiseless. The place was noiseless. And it could have been intimate and idyllic, if it was not the last time they saw each other. Miss Kanroji had some important orders to finish, and by that time, Mister Obanai would have taken a train to the other side of the country.

 "Goodbye, Miss."

   The memories of a young, nervous boy giving her the flowers she held in the colored croquis, telling her how beautiful she was, making her fall in love for good, were now clashing with the last, soft : "I bid you adieu, Lady Kanroji. You shall forever stay in my recollection, in my psyche."

   He had a way with words. But those hurt every inch of her.

   They had had many appointments. So when the tall, lean man came back, they thought it was truly the end. That they would need to leave now. They were defensive. Only, he took an envelope out of an inner pocket.

 "I... I saw how much you cared for this place, so..." He placed it in Miss Kocho's hand, who looked suspiciously at him. Opening the folded paper, she discovered money in it.

 "It is my own. If you have as much talent and passion as you say, then I have faith in you."

Author's Note : Ifelt so sad and happy at the same time, writing this.