She sat at the side of the bed. Sometimes, she got up, fussed for a towel, laid it across the fevered brow of her grandmother, then resumed her position. Not once did she let go of the wizened hand. "Shaolin…"
"Oba-san, I am here."
"My dear girl. I knew you would be here. Your brother – he is always so busy, I have not seen him since he went on that mission… and the others..." She exhaled heavily, sighing.
"My… my brother… he… he will be back… and he will bring your favourite natto, oba-san."
The old lady smiled. "Hush, child. He has important work to do. And one day you will be off with the Onmitsukido yourself. And who will bring me natto then?"
"I… I will, oba-san! I promise!"
"You will be somewhere else, dear girl. Perhaps when you have time… when I was Soifon, I barely had time to slip away to meet your oji-san!" The old lady chuckled, bringing on a fit of coughing.
Shaolin leaned forward to soothe her grandmother, anxiety knitted on her brow. "Rest, oba-san." When the old lady had drifted off, she brushed her hair tenderly, kissed her and crept out of the room.
Back in her room, Shaolin wept, finally having the space to process the awful news from the hell butterfly that morning. My brother… my brothers…
Old Lady Soifon passed away quietly that night, in peace.