Yukishiro sat motionless on the steps of the Butterfly Mansion, wrapped in a plain white hospital gown. His snow-colored hair shone faintly under the light of the evening sun, and his eyes were fixed on the wooden gate in front of him.
He looked less like a boy and more like a statue carved from stone—silent, still, and unyielding.
Two days earlier, he had been beaten half-senseless by Naru and Seiji after trying to leave the ward. Dragged back to his bed and re-bandaged by Shinobu Kocho, he had waited until nightfall before rising again and taking his place on the steps. Since then, he had not moved. He sat there through sun and moon, without food, without water, and without so much as a single word.
No matter who spoke to him, no matter what was said, he gave no reply. His gaze remained locked on the gate as though it alone contained the answer to his grief.
The three girls of the Butterfly Mansion grew uneasy in his presence. To them, he was something uncanny—half man, half Demon, neither alive nor dead.
They avoided him whenever possible, whispering behind their hands and pretending not to see the figure outside.
Kanao, however, was different. She found herself drawn to him the way she was once drawn to butterflies fluttering across a flower field.
After dinner each evening, she would quietly sit beside him, her doll-like eyes reflecting nothing at all, and absentmindedly toying with his white hair. To her, Yukishiro was a strange kind of plaything. To those who watched, the pair looked eerily alike: a silent doll beside a broken statue.
Kanao smiled faintly, though she herself did not understand the reason. She always smiled, because that was what she had been taught to do.
Yukishiro, in contrast, was filled with a turmoil so deep he could not express it. His eyes held everything—longing, pain, despair, and above all, the memory of his sister's abduction. He did not weep, nor did he rage; he simply stared until staring itself became a kind of numbness.
That evening, Kanzaki Aoi returned from a mission. Her black hair, tied neatly in twin ponytails, swayed as she descended the stairs into the courtyard. A few days earlier, she had led her small squad to the snowy mountains in search of demonic traces.
This morning they had returned, weary but unscathed.
At once the three girls of the Butterfly Mansion ran to her, eager to chatter about the strange patient who had taken up residence on the steps.
Listening carefully, Aoi frowned. She recalled something they had found during their mission—something that might connect to the boy.
Approaching quietly, she placed a hand on Kanao's shoulder and gave her a teasing smile.
"Kanao, are you having fun? Did you make a new friend?"
Kanao turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable, then went back to twirling the boy's hair between her fingers.
Aoi chuckled softly to herself. "It's rare for you to take an interest in something other than butterflies." Her gaze shifted to Yukishiro. "Hello? Can you hear me?"
She called twice, but the boy did not respond. His statue-like silence remained unbroken.
"Honestly…" Aoi muttered to herself. "If he's an idiot, what's going to happen? Is he going to stay here forever, eating our food, sleeping in our beds, being cared for while doing nothing? Just the thought makes my skin crawl."
As she spoke, Yukishiro's eyes flickered toward her hand.
She held a necklace—an azure pendant shaped like a teardrop, its glass surface gleaming faintly under the lantern light.
In an instant, his hand shot forward like a snake striking. His pale fingers wrapped around her wrist with startling speed.
Aoi's instincts screamed. Her body reacted before thought could catch up. She flipped backward in a swift somersault, landing in the courtyard in a practiced crouch. Her hand gripped the hilt of her sword as her eyes narrowed. For a moment, her breath caught—this was no ordinary patient. The killing intent that surged from him felt as sharp as a demon's claws.
"Kanao! Step back from him! He's dangerous!"
At her warning, Kanao blinked. She looked first at Aoi, then at Yukishiro, and only then let her hand drop to her own sword hilt.
With a small, uncertain hop, she moved backward, her eyes betraying no comprehension of who she was meant to draw her blade against.
Meanwhile, Yukishiro stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hand tightly gripping the pendant. His voice, hoarse but steady, broke the silence.
"Where did you get this?"
Aoi froze. At some point in the struggle, the pendant had slipped from her fingers and into his palm. She had not even realized. A shiver ran down her spine.
"We… we found it next to you," she admitted, eyes narrowing. "When we discovered you in the snow that day, it was lying there."
Yukishiro's throat tightened. "My sister's pendant…"
He remembered, faintly, the day the demon had taken her away. In the chaos, she had pressed the necklace into his hand, as though entrusting him with a final piece of herself. His coma had buried the memory, but now it surged back, raw and bitter.
Clutching the pendant to his chest, the boy's killing aura slowly faded. He sat down once more on the steps, his eyes fixed not on the gate but on the pendant's blue gleam.
Kanao returned, unfazed, to her seat beside him, fingers resuming their absent play with his hair. Aoi could only stare, frustration boiling in her chest. She had prepared for combat, yet now she stood disarmed, out of place, and somehow mocked by the absurdity of it all.
"You lunatic…" she muttered under her breath, finally sheathing her blade. Raising her voice, she called him every insult she could think of—madman, idiot, weirdo—and stormed away, stomping her feet like an angry child.
Now, instead of one weirdo haunting the Butterfly Mansion courtyard, there were two. And worse, they seemed to draw strength from one another.
Time passed in silence. Day faded into night, and still Yukishiro did not move. On the third evening, as the others gathered for their meal inside, Kanao reluctantly abandoned her perch beside him and slipped indoors.
Moments later, the sliding door creaked open again. Yukishiro entered quietly, the pendant still clutched in his hand. Except for Kanao, every pair of eyes turned toward him with a mixture of annoyance and disgust.
Aoi smirked triumphantly. "So, he finally couldn't endure hunger any longer."
"Why, you've come for food, haven't you? Well, let me tell you—we didn't prepare anything for you. Starve if you must!"
"That's right!" one of the trio chimed in.
"You refused it when we offered before, and now you come begging?" another scoffed.
Their voices rang with childish spite, their grudge from the earlier insult still fresh.
But Yukishiro's lips parted, and instead of pleading for food, he asked a single question.
"What is the Demon Slayer Corps? What are demons?"
The room fell silent.
"You… don't even know that?" Aoi's eyebrows furrowed.
The trio glanced at each other, then answered reluctantly.
"Demons are man-eating monsters."
"And the Demon Slayer Corps exists to kill them. How can you be so ignorant?"
Yukishiro ignored the scorn. His next words were steady, deliberate.
"Who is the strongest among you?"
The trio laughed lightly, almost relieved. "Of course, it's the Rock hashira-sama."
Yukishiro closed his eyes briefly, then spoke with conviction.
"I want to see him."
The girls blinked.
"…What did you say?" Naru pointed at him as though he had just cracked a joke. Her laughter spilled out, joined quickly by the others.
"You—see the Rock hashira? Don't make us laugh!"
"Haha, a nobody like you meeting Lord Rock hashira? Impossible!"
Their mocking voices rang in the air, but Yukishiro's gaze did not falter. His hand tightened around the pendant. For the first time since his sister's abduction, his despair had given birth to determination.
He would meet the Rock hashira.
He would find strength.
And one day, he would save her.