The others exchanged glances, Sanzou with a and-why-the-hell-am-I-expected-to-have-explained, Gojou with a no-damn-way-am-I-touching-this, Hakkai simply resigned.
"They die in the winter, Gokuu," he explained. "New ones are born in spring."
Gokuu's lower lip trembled.
Sanzou drew on his cigarette. "There was a legend about one that became a sorcerer's companion and lived for decades."
"What happened to it?" Gokuu asked, diverted.
"I don't know. That sort of story is usually about the sorcerer. Not the butterfly."
"I'm sure it had a very happy life," Hakkai put in diplomatically, "and lots of flowers."
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