After returning to the backyard, Yukishiro took a short rest, then slipped into the bathroom for a shower. He changed into clean clothes and neatly arranged his belongings, but afterward he found himself at a loss.
Normally, he would be running through the woods, practicing agility and coordination until sweat soaked his shirt, yet now the sudden emptiness of idleness pressed against him.
He sat on the bed for a while, staring at the floorboards. "What am I supposed to do now?" he thought. The silence of the Butterfly House pressed on him more heavily than the wild winds of Bailong Mountain ever had.
Finally, he decided to go to the front yard. It was nearly dinner anyway, and he didn't want to sit around waiting to be called like a child.
On his way out, he paused briefly at the closed door of Shinobu Kocho's room. His silver eyes lingered on it for a moment, unreadable, before he turned and walked toward the front yard.
The three nurses—Naru, Seiji, and Akihiro—were blessedly out of sight. From behind their door, however, their chatter still carried clearly. Yukishiro frowned faintly. He had no idea where they found so many words to spend every day; the flood of their conversation seemed endless, filling silence with noise until there was no room to breathe.
He ignored them and walked instead toward the cherry tree by the wall. The blossoms had faded, petals scattered by wind and time, but a faint sweetness still lingered in the air. He stood beneath it quietly, breathing in the lingering fragrance, his thoughts restless.
Footsteps sounded behind him—light, measured, familiar. His restless heart steadied itself at once.
When he turned, Kanao stood there. Her eyes, deep and glassy, still carried that unsettling emptiness, as if her soul had been stolen long ago. Yet she smiled—soft, gentle, fragile, and it struck him like a blade.
"Who took away her soul?" he wondered.
"And who gave her this smile? Does she even know that she's smiling?"
Neither spoke. Yukishiro studied her face, while Kanao's gaze wandered up to his hair, as if it were some long-lost doll she had just rediscovered.
Then he noticed another figure at the corner. Kanzaki Aoi had been watching them. The moment their eyes met, she dropped her head and hurried away as if caught in a crime.
At that exact moment, Shinobu appeared from the backyard and caught sight of the two standing beneath the tree.
"My, my. What are you two doing under the cherry tree?" she called lightly. "Why not go inside?"
She waved at Kanao. "Come, Kanao, it's time to eat."
For the briefest moment, Kanao's dark eyes rippled. Then she stepped quickly toward Shinobu, like a chick rushing to its mother's call. Shinobu touched her hair tenderly, waiting until Yukishiro joined them, and the three walked toward the room together.
"You know," Shinobu teased, "the two of you looked just like sweet lovers under that tree. Yukishiro, are you perhaps attracted to Kanao?"
If it had been any other woman, his face would have burned scarlet. But Kanao…
"She probably feels that we're the same kind," he said flatly. "That's why she stands closer."
His voice was devoid of warmth. Shinobu's smile faltered as though a needle had pierced her chest. She quickly tucked away her playful expression and said nothing more.
Inside, Aoi and the other girls had already set the dishes out. Normally the room was lively with chatter, but with Yukishiro present, silence sank over the table like a curtain. Even the clatter of chopsticks seemed subdued.
Everyone felt the awkwardness—everyone except Kanao, who continued eating with her serene blankness.
"Tomorrow is the Fujikasane Mountain selection," Shinobu said as she sat. "Yukishiro, do you need anything prepared? Naru and the others can go out later to buy it for you."
The three nurses froze. The selection? So that was why he had returned.
They exchanged uneasy glances. The Final Selection at Fujikasane Mountain was an ordeal few survived. Every year, less than one in ten returned alive. To step into that mountain was to step through the gates of hell.
Their dislike toward Yukishiro softened unexpectedly. Disdain gave way to pity—and, secretly, admiration.
"What a waste," Akihiro thought as she looked at him. "Such a handsome face, and he's likely to vanish into that mountain forever."
Unaware of their thoughts, Yukishiro continued eating quietly. After a long silence, he asked:
"What is the Fujikasane selection? What does it take to pass?"
The trio nearly spat their food out.
He didn't even know?
Kanzaki Aoi set her chopsticks down. "It's simple," she said, voice tight. "All you have to do is survive seven days in the mountain. But don't think it's easy. The mountain is crawling with demons. Some of them are terrifyingly strong."
Yukishiro only nodded, as if it were nothing.
The three nurses stared.
Shouldn't he look frightened? Did he not understand the danger? Or was he too foolish to grasp it?
Seeing their confusion, Aoi pressed on, her tone sharper. "It means you'll be trapped in a mountain full of demons for seven days.
No rescue. No supplies. Nothing but yourself. That's the test."
Still, Yukishiro showed no reaction. He calmly chewed his food, swallowed, and only when his bowl was empty did he finally say:
"In that case, buy me a sword. A Nichirin sword this time, one that can kill demons—not like before. I'll repay you once I've joined the Corps."
The three nurses stiffened. Not like before? What did he mean? What had happened?
Shinobu gave him a small smile. "Still holding a grudge against me for last time? Don't worry. The sword is already prepared. The Demon Slayer Corps provides each candidate with a Nichirin blade. You won't need to pay."
"Then there's no problem."
After dinner, Shinobu took him to the medical room and removed the last of his stitches. The rest of the day, Yukishiro secluded himself, practicing Full Concentration: Constant through meditation. His control had grown sharper over the last days, and he could now maintain it for longer stretches without strain.
The following morning, the entire household rose early. Even the three nurses who once despised him stood waiting in the yard. As if they had agreed in secret, all gathered to see him off.
They had even prepared food—dry rations packed neatly into a bundle. If Yukishiro thought to survive by hunting on Fujikasane Mountain, he would be sorely mistaken. With demons everywhere, there would be little prey to find.
Shinobu handed him the Nichirin blade herself, its black scabbard gleaming faintly.
Yukishiro accepted the sword, bowed slightly, and without another word turned toward the path.
He did not look back.
Dressed in white, sword at his waist, silver hair stirring in the wind, he walked away with a quiet, solitary heroism that made them all watch until his figure vanished.