The night air was cool atop the Butterfly Estate. A pale crescent moon hung low in the sky, its silver light washing gently over the rooftop tiles. Crickets chirped in the silence as Tanjiro sat alone, his eyes tracing the stars.
He heard the soft shuffle of sandals before a gentle voice spoke behind him.
"You're up late."
He turned.
Shinobu Kocho stood there, her haori swaying in the breeze, her smile as delicate as always—but tonight, it felt more… sincere.
"I couldn't sleep," Tanjiro admitted. "Too much on my mind."
Shinobu walked beside him and took a seat, folding her hands on her lap as she looked up at the moon.
"The sky always seems bigger when you're carrying something heavy," she said.
Tanjiro tilted his head. "Is that how you feel?"
Her smile wavered, just for a second.
"I carry a great many things, Tanjiro. Hatred… love… memories." She looked out toward the garden. "But what I carry most is the burden of kindness I couldn't give."
Tanjiro listened closely, sensing the truth behind her words.
"Do you know about Kanao Tsuyuri?" she asked gently.
He nodded. "She's strong. Quiet… but graceful."
Shinobu's eyes lowered. "She wasn't always like that."
And then she told him—of a child born into cruelty, sold like livestock by her own blood. A girl who was beaten, starved, and silenced by the world before she was even old enough to speak her name.
"When we found her," Shinobu said softly, "she didn't cry. Not even once. She had no will of her own. Kanae and I gave her a new home, a new life… but the damage had already been done."
Tanjiro's chest tightened. He imagined the small girl, eyes dull, spirit caged.
"She couldn't decide anything," Shinobu continued. "Not even what to eat. So we gave her a coin. She'd flip it to make decisions. That's how she learned to move forward… by leaving her life to chance."
Tanjiro looked down, his hands tightening around his knees.
"She's strong now," he said, voice firm. "But she shouldn't have to depend on luck to live."
Shinobu smiled gently. "You're a kind boy, Tanjiro. Maybe… that's what she needs."
The next morning—
Kanao was in the courtyard, watering flowers. Her expression was blank as always, her motions practiced and flawless.
Tanjiro approached quietly, watching her for a moment before calling out.
"Kanao!"
She looked up. Slowly. Silently.
He stepped forward and reached into his pocket.
"I heard… you flip this when you need to decide something." He pulled out a similar coin. "That's okay. But… I think you should try something else."
Kanao tilted her head.
Tanjiro gave her a warm smile. "Your heart is beautiful. It deserves to make its own choices."
He placed the coin in her hand.
"Next time… don't flip it. Just listen to your heart."
She stared at the coin.
And for the first time—her fingers trembled.
She didn't speak.
But as he turned to walk away, she held the coin tightly to her chest.
A petal fell from the sakura tree above them.
And in that soft, blooming silence—
A choice had been made.