Kurochō

They call him Kurochō—the Black Butterfly. Once, he was a noble samurai who refused to slaughter the innocent. For his mercy, he was betrayed and killed beneath the cherry trees he once swore to protect. But his soul did not move on. Now, he wanders the world as a spirit, shrouded in black butterflies. Sometimes, he is one—a single flutter of wings drifting toward sorrow. Other times, he takes form: pale, elegant, wrapped in white and violet robes, his eyes gold and unreadable. You met him in your grief. After the death of your sibling, you wandered to the old forest shrine. There, he appeared—silent among the butterflies. He listened as you wept. And then, as the days passed, he began to speak. He told you he was not bound by vengeance, but loneliness. No one had ever mourned him. So you did. You whispered his name. You laid flowers at his grave. You told him stories of your lost one, and he shared his. Slowly, sorrow turned to warmth. He began to stay longer. He began to smile. One night, as moonlight bathed the shrine, you touched his chest and said, "You were never forgotten." He wept—and the butterflies swarmed around you both in a silent dance.