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Trial and error.
Mistakes. Oversight. Accidents.
All that should have been accounted for.
She should have known better. Really, she should’ve. But her exhaustion had caused her to become careless, to grow complacent.
It was a quiet night. The moon hung low in the dark sky, its light illuminating the faint outline of the Butterfly Mansion. Most of its occupants were already lost to the land of dreams, having fallen to the temptation of a cozy, warm bed.
Several lamps were lit inside the wooden building, providing dim light to those still awake. Incense burners were placed at the four corners of the mansion, filling the air with the sickly sweet scent of wisteria.
Soft footsteps padded against the woven tatami mat, as their owner treaded lightly on their toes. The bamboo shoji door was gently slid open and closed again, as Kocho Shinobu stepped inside her personal office.
Holding a lone candle in her hand, she approached her desk soundlessly, Several beakers filled with unidentifiable liquids sat on the table, with pages of paper filled with haphazard writing strewn all over.
Breathing out a gentle sigh, Shinobu pulled her chair out from behind the desk and took a seat, before gathering the papers and organizing them into a neat pile.
It had been a long day. A sleepless night of patrol and demon hunting, followed by a full day of medical research, whilst managing and nursing the ill and injured. Her hand twitched with exhaustion as she held her ink brush, writing swift, smooth strokes onto a fresh piece of paper. Blowing on it gently to dry the ink, she then set it on a far corner of her desk.
With one hand, she pulled open a small drawer in her desk, revealing its contents of a single syringe, and a pair of gloves. She left the gloves untouched as she reached inside, instead grabbing the syringe.
She retrieved a small beaker from the cabinet in the corner of the room, filled to the brim with a strange violet substance. Carefully, she placed the syringe’s needle into the liquid, and pulled the plunger upwards until the syringe was full.
Then, she grimaced. No matter how many times she had done it, the sensation was not a pleasant one. The pain mattered little. She was a Hashira, she could handle such things. No, it was the side effects that followed that were the problem — migraines, dizziness, sensitivity to light and sound, a pale complexion. Only by administering the poison in small doses was she able to function on a normal basis.
Shinobu lifted the syringe and placed the needle against her neck. Closing her eyes, she took in a breath, before injecting the liquid into her veins.
It was done.
She reopened her eyes, setting the syringe down on the desk. A glint of light caught her eye, and she turned to inspect it. A short blade, similar to the ones she crafted into her shoes.
A gift. She smiled. She ran her fingers along the edge of the blade, applying just enough pressure to feel its sharpness. Was it from Aoi, or perhaps Kanao? Both of her girls were likely to have noticed her old ones getting rusty.
Her fingers shook, and the blade dropped from her hands.
Shinobu winced at the noise of the blade clattering noisily against the floor. She knelt to retrieve it, when she felt her fingers tremble and spasm again.
She really ought to get some rest. No doubt her body was pushed to the limits already.
She stood, and began to make her way to the door when she felt a sudden sharp pain in her chest, causing her to gasp silently.
This.. this was wrong. She looked down at her hands, which were now trembling at a much higher intensity. She felt a sudden pang of dizziness, so disorienting that she almost lost her footing.
It felt as if her lungs had closed up, as next she was struggling to breathe, making choked noises as her hands instinctively grasped her throat. If she hadn’t known any better, she’d have thought that thorny vines had grown inside her chest, blocking off her airways as she gasped pathetically.
Her throat. Her neck.
The poison.
Her heart felt as heavy as lead. No, it couldn’t be.
Shinobu turned and stumbled back, her vision blurring as she reached out. Before her fingers touched the desk, her legs gave out, and she fell to the floor, landing on her knees.
She couldn’t have made a mistake in her measurements. She was always extremely precise.
So why..
She grabbed the discarded syringe that had fallen onto the floor amongst all the commotion.
Empty.
Why..
The beaker had been full earlier. It was now almost empty.
Bile rose up her throat as she wheezed, white foam dripping from her lips. Her body was shaking uncontrollably as she attempted to rise to her feet, gripping onto the desk with surprising ferocity.
It couldn’t end like this. Not here, not now. Kocho Shinobu could not die in this way, killed by her own carelessness.
Her plan couldn’t fail. She’d worked too hard for this to happen.
“Nee-san..” She gasped, her body convulsing. “Help.. me…”
Her eyes rolled back, and she fell back on the floor, landing with a loud thump. The syringe in her hand crashed onto the ground, shattering into a thousand tiny glass pieces.
Eventually, her body was still at last.
Kocho Shinobu was the Insect Hashira, a chemical genius.
Kocho Shinobu was dead.