Unbound ♰ Kny x Fem!Reader

𝐯. Their Eyes Tell Their Tale

Daylight spilled in through a crack in the curtains, casting a square of warmth upon the empty hospital cot that belonged to Y/N L/N.

The girl had wandered off early in the morning to admire the sunrise; a routine that she had taken upon herself to perform every time day broke. As trivial as it seemed, it helped ease her nerves and freshen her weary sight — two discomforts that the conflicting choices of staying or leaving the agency had oh-so(un)graciously provided her with.

She mindlessly put one foot in front of the other, watching wisps of her hair blow freely in the wind. The weather near the Butterfly Mansion hadn't changed over the last couple of days; the skies of summer still continued to remain a rich azure. In around two month's time it would give way to leaden grey clouds and battering storms — atrocious battle conditions — so it was best to enjoy it while you still could.

Despite how early in the morning it was, the faint whisper of voices could be heard from this distance. Kakushi normally rose from their beds at the appearance of the very first ray of sunlight, so activity at this time was certainly understandable.

But that meant that one of the stiffly formal workers might see her in this messy state, and that would frankly be a little too damaging to her self confidence. She darted forward into one of the doors and hurriedly tried to pat her hair down into a more... appealing state.

"A demon will never protect humans. Your statement is a total delusion, you unworthy child."

"I won't let anyone hurt her!"

Voices. This time not just whispers, but elevated to a more agitated pitch, pierced through the air and left a deep sense of unease hanging in its wake.

The girl frowned. She was pretty assured that this conversation probably shouldn't be reaching her ears... but nevertheless, it only made her want to listen in more.

"I have sanctioned the circumstances of these two. I would like you all to accept it." Another voice joined the group, unflustered and soothing.

Perhaps this is a Hashira meeting, Y/N thought nervously and revolved around on her heel to check if anyone had spotted her.

But that doesn't explain the second voice, she realized, which sounded oddly like a person her age. She was pretty positive the third, with it's air of authority, belonged to none other than the Corps' Leader. The first was undoubtedly Sanemi, the hot-tempered Wind Hashira.

Curiosity got the better of her — it always had, since she was little — so she followed the voices until they grew in volume and eventually, seemed to be right outside. She bolted out the door, found a patch of shadow where she would be perfectly shrouded from majority view, and peered at her surroundings.

All nine Hashira were kneeling before a man standing on the steps of the mansion, heads bowed in respect. They gave off a formidable aura of power — clearly not a force to be reckoned with.

And almost ironically, sprawled out on the floor next to them was an injured boy clutching a large, wooden box.

In his eyes, a mix of black and maroon, blazed a storm of fervent motive as he hugged the box even closer to himself. He was yelling with a bloodied mouth, his hair in a shambles, so his words turned incoherent and inaudible by the time it reached Y/N's ears. She tried to read his lips by squinting, but in a desperate pursuit to prove his case, he was moving so abruptly that she slumped down and gave up soon after.

The furious boy was attempting to stand up now and sharply whipped his head in her direction. They locked eyes.

For a split second, she saw past the winds in his gaze — and she saw someone like herself. Lost.

The raging desire for revenge, the feeblest hint of lethargy — he was tired, oh yes — and the guilty wish for another path unbound by fate. But he had something that she didn't.

The boy looked away hesitantly, as if he was also searching for some meaning in their encounter; the Master had spoke up to quell any anger amongst the irritated Hashira.

Y/N stood there, dazed. What about this boy was so intriguing?

She snapped back to reality a few minutes later, blankly watching the boy get dragged away by a Kakushi (he was still bravely complaining until the very end). He caught her stunned expression and despite having blood and dirt smeared all over his face, a grin lit up his features.

She gave him a hollow smile in return.

Soon after, the boy had been carried out of view, and the Hashira had begun to disperse, a few grumbling profanities as they did.

Realization dawned on Y/N soon after — she might be spotted if she stayed here for too long. So she begun to make her way back to her room, legs buckling as she took the first step.

Left. Right. Cross. Right, she thought, trying to recall Shinobu's directions for navigating around the spacious Butterfly Mansion.

Yet this time, the familiar aroma of jasmine and earthy cedarwood had disappeared, and was instead replaced with a dusty stench that made her cough. In the midst of losing herself in thought, the girl had found herself in an odd, unfamiliar hallway — one that Shinobu had never mentioned or told her about, despite how she claimed to know every nook and cranny of the mansion.

She stared in shock. Unlike the other sunlit halls brimming with vitality and chatter, this one was dark and small specks of dust drifted through the contaminated air. A sleek layer of filth covered each and every wall, and with the slightest shake of the floorboards they fell onto webs upon webs of silver and white.

The only source of brightness that prevented the area from being completely pitch-black was the sunlight that drifted from nearby corridors — yet that wasn't enough to illuminate the faraway corners of the area.

The girl cast a few glances everywhere and took in all the rust and the grime. It was certainly unsettling; so uncharacteristic of the highly esteemed Butterfly Mansion.

As she stepped beyond the reach of the sunlight, ignoring she realized that at the very end of the hallway was a door, sparkling with the faint gleam of metal locks. Boards, not very well placed, covered the locks... and then on top of that, a layer of plastic wrap covered the boards. Jesus christ.

It looked like everything was hastily put together... perhaps in order to conceal whatever was in it in a short period of time.

Y/N took a step back, recoiling from the door. It was probably best not to touch it — she would leave it alone.

For now.

She returned back to her hospital cot, and everything had faded into oblivion except for the boy who's eyes mirrored her own pain and the mysterious, barricaded door. There was history between these events, yet to be unraveled.

Curiosity hadn't killed the cat this time.