The next day, Yukishiro woke before the sun had fully risen. The faint light spilled across the paper doors of the Butterfly House, painting his room in soft gray. He dressed in the new white haori Shinobu had given him the night before.
The garment was simple yet striking. On its back bloomed embroidered wisteria flowers, their petals delicate and curling like falling stars. Across the front were stitched six-petaled snowflakes, stark against the white cloth. He traced one with his fingertip, unsure whether those symbols had been there originally or whether Shinobu had quietly ordered them added. Either way, he liked it.
The wisteria reminded him of his sister. She had loved that flower more than any other. To carry it on his back was to carry her presence with him, a quiet vow that he would not forget her.
"They say clothes make the man, and saddles make the horse…" Yukishiro murmured.
He caught his reflection faintly in the polished edge of a water basin. His complexion, pale and sickly days ago, now held a touch of warmth. His eyes were sharper. Rest and healing had restored a measure of his vitality, and in this new haori, he almost looked like a different person entirely—less the ragged survivor he had been, more a noble young warrior preparing for a journey.
He folded his hospital robe neatly and placed it beside his pillow. Around his neck he carefully clasped the pendant his sister had left behind.
It rested cool against his chest, an anchor amid the shifting uncertainties of his life.
With that, he stepped out of the room.
The Butterfly House was still hushed in morning drowsiness. Only the occasional whisper of wind stirred the paper doors. Yukishiro wandered to the front steps and sat down, gazing at the gate as he had done so many times before.
In these quiet days, he had grown unexpectedly attached to this place—the gentle smell of herbs that always clung to the air, the chatter of the girls, even the way the wooden floors creaked beneath hurried footsteps.
For someone who had come here with nothing, leaving suddenly felt strangely difficult.
The sound of light, precise footsteps drew his attention. Without looking, he knew who it was.
Kanao.
She appeared like a wisp of mist from the corridor, her dark hair tied in its usual side ponytail, her expression unreadable.
She approached and, without so much as a greeting, reached out and began playing with a lock of his white hair as if this were her morning ritual.
Yukishiro stifled a laugh. Her silence no longer unsettled him; instead, he found it oddly comforting. Over the past days, this quiet companionship had steadied him in ways he could not explain.
"Kanaho," he said softly, deliberately mispronouncing her name the way he always did. "What a nice name. I'm leaving today. You'll have to find something else to play with now."
Kanao's fingers paused in his hair. She looked at him for the briefest moment, then withdrew her hand. Her expression didn't change, but somehow he felt she understood.
During breakfast, the Butterfly House trio—Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho—were unusually quiet. Instead of their normal cheerful chatter, they stole glances at him between bites, whispering to each other in subdued tones.
The atmosphere around the table felt strangely heavy.
After the meal, Shinobu appeared, her usual calm smile in place. "Yukishiro," she said, "let's go. It's time to take you to the trainer's residence."
As they crossed the yard, Yukishiro caught sight of someone lingering in the shadows near the corner of the building. Aoi Kanzaki. She was peeking at him, but the moment their eyes met, she quickly turned away and disappeared.
She had avoided him ever since their sparring match three nights ago. He hadn't seen her properly since.
Shinobu noticed as well but said nothing until they were already on the road. "Aoi's family was killed by demons," she explained quietly. "She joined the Corps to avenge them. But on her very first mission, she witnessed her teammates die in front of her. The strength of the demons scarred her spirit."
"Since then, she has remained here, helping me instead of returning to the battlefield."
Yukishiro walked silently, remembering the tremor in Aoi's blade during their match.
"She longs to be fearless," Shinobu continued, "as brave as you. But her strength has limits. She can't even sever a demon's neck. If she goes out again, she'll only die. Too many Demon Slayers leave this mansion and never return."
Shinobu's eyes flicked toward him, her tone suddenly lighter, almost teasing. "Maybe she wanted to say something to you. Maybe…" her lips curved, "…she's fallen in love with you."
"You—don't talk nonsense!" Yukishiro burst out, his face flushing crimson. He pulled away from her side, glaring in embarrassment.
Shinobu laughed softly, unbothered by his outburst. "Little brat, so easily flustered." She reached out and pinched his cheek. "I even set aside a room for you. If you're not out on missions, you can stay at the Butterfly House."
"Mm."
"Mm?" She raised a brow. "That's all? Don't you know how to say thank you?"
"I… I'll repay you. You stingy woman."
"Stingy? I haven't even asked for payment for food, lodging, and medical care yet."
He gritted his teeth, unable to respond.
By midday they reached the foot of a mountain. From deep within came a steady, rumbling roar.
"This is Bailong Mountain," Shinobu said, pointing to the narrow trail leading upward. "A waterfall near the top looks like a white dragon plunging from the sky. That's how it got its name. I can only take you this far. The trainer's residence is at the top. Follow the path, and you'll find him."
Yukishiro nodded, suppressing his excitement.
Shinobu leaned closer, lowering her voice as if to scold him like a mother. "Mind your manners. The trainer you're about to meet is no ordinary man. He was once the master of Gyomei Himejima, the Stone Hashira. Don't be impolite."
Yukishiro bowed slightly. "I understand. You can return." Without waiting for her reply, he strode up the narrow path, the forest swallowing his figure.
Shinobu cupped her hands around her mouth. "Don't forget—show respect!"
But he was already gone into the trees.
She sighed. "Such a strange child. Doesn't even say thank you. Not cute at all." With a shake of her head, she turned to leave.
What she didn't know was that Yukishiro had paused just beyond sight, leaning against the shadowed trunk of a cedar tree.
He watched her retreating form as she walked away, her haori fluttering like a butterfly caught in sunlight. Only when she vanished did he continue onward.
The forest grew darker as he ascended. Overhead, branches interlocked, blotting out much of the daylight. The air was damp, heavy with moss and earth.
Unbeknownst to him, another set of eyes had fixed upon his trail.
Deep within the woods, a demon crouched over the bloody carcass of a wild boar. Its face was twisted and green, jaw lined with fangs that dripped red. It tore a final chunk of flesh free, then froze.
A scent.
It lifted its head, nostrils flaring. Slowly its lips curled back, and a glimmer of hunger lit its dull brown eyes.
There was something new in its territory. A human. Not just any human—something about this scent was rich, intoxicating, far more appetizing than any beast.
With a guttural growl, it abandoned the half-eaten boar and scuttled up the trunk of a tree, claws digging deep into bark. Its limbs bent at unnatural angles as it swung from branch to branch, racing toward the trail above.
The prey was moving closer.
And it was alone.