The Butterfly Mansion's kitchen was livelier than a battlefield.
Shinobu Kocho set three large iron pots on the stoves at once.
Her ladle rang sharply against a pot's rim as she raised her voice, directing members of the Hidden Corps to carry in rice.
There was not a trace of fear in her mild voice, though they could be dragged into a meat grinder at any moment.
Mitsuri Kanroji came in carrying two buckets of well water in one hand and a sack of white rice tucked under her other arm.
Her footsteps landed heavily, as though she meant to crush the panic she could no longer suppress beneath her feet.
"Shinobu." Mitsuri set the buckets down.
The water sloshed violently inside them, betraying the trembling of her fingertips.
"This much food could last us until next year, couldn't it?"
"We're cooking it even if we can't finish it."
Shinobu Kocho set the kitchen knife against the cutting board, tapping its spine with a series of dull knocks.
"Better to eat our fill before we die than go to hell on empty stomachs."
Mitsuri drew a deep breath, forcing down the chill creeping up her spine.
She leaned closer, trying to recover a little human warmth through the most ordinary gossip.
"Shinobu, what exactly is your relationship with that big shot?"
Shinobu Kocho never stopped chopping.
The blade fell against the cutting board, stacking the white radish in neat slices.
"Caretaker and beast."
Mitsuri froze for half a second.
A faint, living blush finally forced its way onto her fear-blanched face.
She covered her mouth with both hands and leaned half a step back.
"Wh-what kind of beast?" Mitsuri stammered.
"The red marks on your neck that night, and the collapsed wall in your room, and..."
"What are you imagining?"