the time ubuyashiki kagaya noticed.

"thank you for coming," ubuyashiki smiles at you, staring at you something soft through the eye that remained his last fleeting chance of sight until it too would be consumed.

"of course," you nod politely, bowing towards the man, "your letter mentioned it was important."

he nods, gesturing for you to take a seat in front of him, and you do, hands folded in your lap. his smile never wavered, something comforting and gentle when he added, "yes, but first, i wanted to mention how happy it makes me to know shinobu has found someone to cherish."

he could see it in the way your body relaxed, the way your eyes lit up at the mention of her, shoulders resting like you'd gone weightless, soft, like the very mention of her was all you needed to live the rest of your day in contentedness. your lips pulled up in a smile that was surely only reserved for the object of your affection, only caused by the thoughts of her when she was not next to you to hold.

it's all he needs to see to know what you held for shinobu was something he'd only wished for all his children ─ many of whom had lost too much and believed themselves unable to achieve that love and care again. shinobu was one of them, with an anger that burned hot, unable to be blown out even amidst the harshes winds and coldest waters. she mourned with fury and lived with hate like grief. ─ she deserved love, a love so pure and real that there would be no room for doubt, fore she had gone through tragedy and blamed herself for all of it.

you could give her that love, ubuyashiki can see that.

"you love her," he hums, a relief in his voice that didn't go unnoticed by you, "i am glad. please, take care of her."

you stare at him, and then you smile, bowing your head like someone ready to give their all for a story many thought lost; "i will, it's all i hope to do."

the time kanao tsuyuri noticed.

kanao was not someone who understood love ─ she could hardly do much to decide for herself. the first spark of love she had ever been given, that she had felt for the first time as someone who was unaware, she could be loved, was from kanae.

she'd never quite seen the way love could take shape ─ form and spread in many different ways, for many different people. until, that is, you had come into shinobu's life, and by extension, kanao's. there have been many instances where your love for shinobu had surrounded, a softness amidst shinobu's rage.

but it was the quiet moments that stood out the most to kanao; those moments when you stood at shinobu's side, never bothering, never prodding, just hovering, in a way that didn't suffocate. like you were simply letting shinobu know you were there, so that she may relax, as if you were telling her she could lean against you.

she's witnessed those moments, too, when shinobu let you carry her despite it being so unlike her.

"you look tired," you hum, tilting your head to look at the insect hashira's face, eyes narrowed.

"do i?" shinobu chuckles, but it's not really a question, more like something to be pushed aside and replaced with a different topic.

but you don't let that happen, raising your hand to brush a finger along her cheek, asking with a frown on your face, "have you not been sleeping well?"

it's unmistakable, the way shinobu relaxes at your touch when she smiles at you, something that seemed far more genuine than those smiles she'd give other people, "i'm alright, [name]."

you stare at her for a moment, your eyes flitting across her face, examining her smile, her eyes, the way she seems just a little less full of energy. you don't say anything; you don't try to prod at her reasons or force her to open up to you, reveal to you why she looked more tired today (something that hadn't even been noticed by even her comrades). you only wrap an arm around her waist and lean forward to press a kiss to her temple. it's gentle, and you linger, holding her close as if she were something sacred, and shinobu hums, leaning into you.

and kanao who had only been passing by, who does not understand the concept of affection in a way that's familiar, knows that this is love.

the time aoi kanzaki noticed.

aoi knew you loved shinobu when you also loved her and the girls of the butterfly mansion ─ when you showed up with treats and gifts for the girls who began to look forward to your visits. when you'd sit with them and help them with their chores and listen to their stories about the slayers they had helped treat recently.

there's a crash that immediately has aoi to her feet and rushing towards the noise ─ a broken vase she learns was the cause, dropped by sumi, who looks ready to cry as she stares down at the glass shards covering the floor. but aoi was not the only one alerted by the noise, as shinobu and you had already been in the room when she arrived.

"are you alright?" shinobu asks, placing a gentle hand on the young girls head.

sumi sniffles, and nods, and shinobu smiles at her from she kneeled next to her. you're kneeling at sumi's other side, on your knees as you assess the mess before looking back at the girl, resting a hand on her arm as a means of comforting her when sumi's eyes filled with tears.

"it's alright now, accidents happen," you glance at shinobu, "i can clean this up, don't worry."

aoi cuts in, approaching the three of you with intention, "i can clean it up─"

"it's alright," you interrupt, tone gentle when you look at her, "i wouldn't want you to cut yourself. i can clean this up," ─ looking back at shinobu, you gesture towards sumi, "why don't you take her and make sure she really hadn't hurt herself, okay? i'll have this cleaned up quickly, so no one gets hurts."

aoi looks ready to argue ─ you are a guest after all, regardless of your relationship with her master. but there is simply no room to argue, not when you're careful to make sure shinobu and sumi don't step on any of the broken shards, ushering aoi out of the room with tenderness of someone who really cared, before you begin to clean up.

the first time shinobu realizes.

shinobu doesn't think she's dense ─ she knows you care for her. but your relationship with her was still new, still filled with those moments where she stewed and guessed, and tried to understand where your feelings lie. she wondered if a life where she tried to come back to someone, if knowing there was someone waiting for her after every mission, was a life for her (if it was a life she deserved).

and sometimes she wonders if you would be okay with a life of waiting ─ if you could sit with not knowing when she'd come back from a mission, just waiting, hoping to hear back from her and see her another day.

"what are you thinking about?"

shinobu blinks, glancing up at you as you tilt your head and lean down to be face to face with her.

waving the thoughts away, she sighs, "what?"

you squint at her, lips pursed, "you seem deep in thought."

"it's nothing to worry about," she brushes off, something you've come to learn to be quite normal of her do.

you frown, taking her hand in yours and bringing it up to your lips to place a kiss on her knuckles, gentle and fleeting, but it was enough to make her feel warm in that way only you could do. (and she wonders how it happened, how you'd managed to make yourself a place, soft and pleasant, among the rage that made her soul.) you don't push her on the matter any further, keeping her hand in yours, thumb brushing her knuckles as you glance around the garden you two sat in, the one at her mansion's front door.

"when i'm reborn in another life, i think i would be a bird," ─ you say, effectively cutting into whatever thoughts still lingered in shinobu's mind, because it's so random, unrelated to the topic before.

"what?"

you hum, "you'd be a butterfly and i'd be a bird."

she tilts her head at you, smile confused, "birds a predator to butterflies, you know."

"yeah," you nod, "but i know my soul would recognize yours, and it would know you are the exception."

shinobu doesn't know what to say that; she finds it a little ridiculous, but another part of her hopes for it ─ that your souls would remember each other in every time. (and she thinks, you were the only one who could make her feel that way.)

the second time shinobu realizes.

"hey."

shinobu startles, glancing over her shoulder to find you sitting on the engawa, peeking around the shoji. the tenseness in her shoulders relax when she realizes it's just you.

"sorry," your smile is gentle when you gesture next to her, "may i?"

she doesn't reply verbally, but gives you a short nod, which is all you need to move from the engawa to the floor next to her, your shoulders brushing with the proximity. you don't reach to grab her hand or hug her, just sit beside her as she stares at her hands in her lap, posture straight and expression tense despite the smile she tried to keep on her face.

there's a silence between the two of you, and she can feel your eyes on her, but she doesn't meet your expression. it's moments like these that remind you just how deep her rage goes, how it burns and sizzles, never going out because it was always being fed by the misfortune of her duty.

eventually, your whisper breaks the quiet, leaning forward to peek at her face, "shinobu," ─ that gets her to look at you, and you raise your hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "it's just me, it's okay."

she stares at you for a moment, and then she sighs, smile less sharp, still there but smaller, because she can't quite break the habit of forcing that smile when her anger burned hottest, searing beneath her skin. her shoulders slump, and she leans her forehead against your shoulder, vulnerable in a way she was with no one else.

you rest your head on hers, pressing a kiss to her hair. ─ you don't ask her what happened, what had made her so upset. you just sit with her in the quiet as her soul rages, because her anger never let her rest. but with you, it becomes just a little quieter, a little more bearable.

it's then that shinobu realizes that her world had become yours ─ you made a home there, a safe place, and you called it ours ─ and eventually, it became that way for shinobu too, when she realized the love, you had for her was true. deep and unyielding despite the danger her life possessed, despite the risk that she may not return to you. you loved her not like you expected to mourn her in the future. you lived in the present, loved her like your life held some normalcy to it, but it was not a false, not a lie you told yourself. you knew and you accepted it all, and you loved her through it. 

(was she though? she knows now that’s not the case, but she wonders then how her past self might’ve felt if she too knew, if she would have such a strong resentment that she once did. the type of resentment that curled around her bones and pricked at her eyes and made itself known every time she just tried to be.)

(but then ─ who did she resent more? who was at the forefront of her thoughts every time the feeling surfaced?)

(was it resentment at all?)

mel grieved quietly ─ not silent, never silent ─ but quiet, alone, with only herself and the paintings surrounding her to witness. because silence was not sharp brush strokes, harsh colors, and quiet remembering. she grieved for both the past and the present in a quiet that was only ever filled with the scraping of her canvas as color after color covers the white in a memory that always stayed right at her fingertips, resting on her eyelids to remind every moment she blinked. 

her grief was never loud, never obvious and bold; but it was there, because who would not grieve if they too had been through all that she had. 

but then there’s a point where anger is grief, when all that was unknown to her became known. when she began to lose it all ─ when she was told of the power that lurked beneath her skin and shined through her eyes in a hue of light meant to save, protect. when mel realized she was more; at the cost of all that she held dear.

you remember when you first saw her grieve; when she appeared in front of you, young, round-faced, and meant to hold the responsibility of the medarda’s name on her shoulders, heavy, and gold. it was brief, small; only noticeable for a moment when she looks on at piltover as if it were a world she was afraid to step into ─ and then it was gone, as if it was never there in the first place. (you got an idea then, about what type of before she might’ve experienced, a type of before that had already begun to shape her, a type of before that was still there, curled around her arms and resting sweetly on her head, like a hug that held no comfort.)

(perhaps war could be described as just that, after all. ─ but you think mel would describe it differently, as someone who experienced it so young.)

“have you decided, then?” you say, just above a whisper when you stop just a step behind her, almost next to her. there’s a gloom that settles over what had become of piltover; the aftermath of all that had to be done to save a city that was already at war to begin with ─ a war with itself. 

if you surprised mel, she doesn’t show it as she turns to you, the gold on her shoulders almost threatening to blind you under the spotlight of the sun. there’s a frown on her face, something you’ll admit you weren’t quite used to; because you were used to smiles, most not real, but meant to please, to convince, to sell, and the less often smiles that were ─ soft and caring, and reserved for those she held close to a heart that was full of grief. 

“I have,” she confirms.

there’s an ache in your chest ─ an ache of knowing you’ll miss her; your conversations, mostly full of your grins and teases, and mentions of customers down by the dock. and the sighs full of her small annoyances in her interactions with the council, her wish for more, her quiet laugh; fond and real, because she was comfortable with you. ─ but you also ache for her; an ache for all that she’s lost and all she continues to lose, because war is never easy to end. because there’s more weight to her shoulders than there used to be. because she grieves like she will forever be alone; and you wish you could tell her she wasn’t, that you would be by her side, forever and more. 

but that would be a lie ─ not because your care for her was not deep, but because you could not follow her as she took her mother’s mask and intended to end what had been happening for generations. because to tell her so would leave the impression that you understood ─ when you don’t, not really, because you don’t hold the weight she does, don’t grieve like your blood boils and carves and hates you for being yours. 

your hand grabs hers, gentle, loose, and you smile at her, sad but understanding ─ because you didn’t relate to the weight she holds, but you understand this was all that she must do, that there’s blood under her skin and a name to her that you could never truly grasp the meaning of. 

“take care.”

she smiles at you then, gentle, grateful ─ because you might be the only friend she has left, because all else has been taken (grounded to stardust, stained her hands in blood, and surrounded in black thorns with roses that looked like death). she doesn’t respond, but you’re almost happy she doesn’t, when she squeezes your hands and nods slow, almost unnoticeable.

it’s the last moment you’ll have with her, maybe not forever, but for a while. so you ache, quiet just as she has always done, and you understand what you can.

"i thought i'd find you here," you sighed as you approached him, sitting alone on the roof of the last drop. they didn't say anything back to you, but you didn't expect a response.

you take a seat next to him, legs hanging over the edge and your arms behind you, keeping you supported as you lean back. you don't say anything else for a moment, instead staring over the city in front of you; a view you were used to.

you remember when you'd climb up here and wait for the others to return, wait to see if you'd see vi coming back from wherever she and the others had gone off to. sometimes you'd come up here with ekko and powder ─ jinx, to giggle and talk about whatever the three of you wanted to talk about. sometimes about customers that came into the shop and how ekko managed to swindle them, sometimes about powder's new ideas or inventions, and sometimes you'd tell them the new stories you came up with.

they were the only ones who knew of your love for storytelling ─ who knew how bright your imagination could be. and they loved to hear them, to learn about the new worlds you'd build in your head, the characters who lived in your thoughts.

and then that all stopped, and you mourned what little peace someone like you, someone from the undercity, who only knew what it was like to survive not live, had. mourned relationships you were too young to truly cherish ─ because you didn't think it could end as soon as it had, even in the world you lived in. because you, foolishly perhaps, believed you had more time to love, even when you hardly understood how to do that at all.

"how long have you been up here?" you ask, even though you think you know the answer to that.

"a few hours," he answers, and he sounds tired. you know he hasn't been sleeping well, because you were no better. ─ but you can tell it's more than that; the weight of loss on his shoulders carries into his words, shows on his face in lidded eyes and the lack of energy to so much as frown.

you understand, of course you do, but you know it's not quite the same for either of you.

you hum, and lean forward, pulling one of your legs to your chest and resting your chin on your knee. you don't let the silence linger for long; licking your lips before you break it, because there's a feeling in your throat that almost makes you choke ─ "i miss her too."

you say it not because you feel like he thinks it was only him who mourned her ─ but because you want him to know you were here; to share the weight he holds, to sit in the quiet of his love for her that drowned him in a heartbreak he didn't know how to handle. the both of you still didn't know much about grief, about handling the pain that bristled in your chests like thorns threatening to tear through your lungs and climb up your throats.

but you think the two of you could learn how to grieve together. ─ because you didn't want him to be alone; because you didn't think he should be alone. (and maybe because you didn't want to be alone yourself.)

you think he understands when he sighs; heavy, tired.

you don't say anything else; you just let the silence fill the space between you.