Hand Demon was terrified.
He had experienced this feeling decades ago.
And now, he felt it again.
But this time, it was different.
‘If I don’t run…
That boy…
will actually sever my neck.’
‘Run!
I have to run!’ Hand Demon tried to move his legs, but surging water blocked his path.
‘Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!’
Sabito swung his broken blade, slashing at the demon’s front legs.
A broken sword wasn’t enough to sever those elephantine legs.
Sabito knew this, his goal was only to halt the monster’s movement.
The slash delayed the demon’s escape, and that minuscule delay was enough.
‘Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash!’
Hand Demon’s perspective started spinning.
He realized in shock that he was flying through the air.
When his vision settled, he saw a mountain of flesh standing on the earth, entirely headless.
Black smoke billowed from the shoulders as the body dissolved.
Hand Demon finally realized his neck had been severed.
Tears of regret flowed from his golden eyes.
‘I don’t accept this!
I haven’t escaped this prison.
I haven’t taken revenge on Sakonji.
I’m actually going to die here!’
‘Why?
Why did this happen?
Why do the world treat me like this!’
‘Why is life so unfair to me!’
In his final moments, Hand Demon kept screaming and weeping in grief.
Until his massive body and swollen head turned to ash, leaving not a trace behind.
Driving his Nichirin blade into the ground, Hajime leaned against the hilt, slowly sinking to his knees before collapsing onto the earth.
He gasped for air.
Using Total Concentration Breathing with every technique had pushed his lungs to the limit, every breath seared.
His overexertion had reduced his hands to trembling wrecks.
His legs felt ready to snap.
He hadn’t stopped fighting since arriving on the mountain.
It was only the third night, yet the battles had been relentless.
He and Sabito had spent the previous night cutting down demons.
A single day’s sleep couldn’t restore his exhausted body.
During the fight, he had used Thunder Breathing repeatedly.
As the most explosive Breathing style, it placed an enormous burden on the user.
Thankfully, it was over.
He cranked his head around with effort, watching the demon crumble into ash.
Relief washed through him, Hand Demon was dead, and a tragic chain of the original storyline had been severed.
Unnoticed by Hajime, the demon’s blood on his rusted Nichirin blade disappeared drop by drop, as if the blade were drinking it.
“How are you?
You okay?” Sabito’s voice came from nearby.
“I’ll live.
I just need some time.” Hajime tried to shift, but his limbs wouldn’t respond.
He was completely paralyzed.
“Want me to carry you?”
“If possible, I’d rather a girl carry me.”
“Sorry, I’m not a girl.”
Sabito sat beside him, his hand still gripping his broken blade.
Even snapped, he could still sever a random demon’s neck with it.
They sat in silence.
A moment later, Sabito started to speak, but Hajime cut him off.
“I know what you want to say, but don’t speak right now.”
Sabito blinked.
“Why?”
A deep seriousness came over Hajime’s face.
The mood was contagious, Sabito straightened up.
“Moments like this demand caution.
Never set a flag like ‘I’ll do such-and-such once I pass this Final Selection.’ Keep it to yourself.
Absolutely do not voice it.”
Sabito stared blankly.
“Why would you think something so bizarre?
Is that a tradition where you’re from?”
“No, more accurately, it’s a tradition where YOU’RE from.
Just remember what I told you.
Shut your mouth and get some rest.”
“Right, right.
I got it.”
Just then, rapid footsteps rang out through the forest.
At the sound of those rapid footsteps, the relief Hajime and Sabito felt instantly twisted into tension.
Their current condition was dire.
The crisis averted, Hajime’s taut muscles unwound.
The side effects of ruthlessly pushing his body past its limits hit him all at once.
His head swam in a heavy daze, and his entire body felt numb and entirely immobile.
Sabito fared no better.
Water Breathing placed less strain on the body, but Sabito had slain demons all night and fought alongside Hajime for hours.
His body had hit its absolute limit.
Just assuming a combat stance took immense effort.
Expecting him to slay more demons was impossible.
His Nichirin blade had snapped during the fight, anyway.
Sabito stood, gripping his broken blade.
“I’ll create a distraction and draw them away.
Force yourself to move, run east.”
Hajime blinked.
“What about you?”
“I’m stronger than you.
I can escape,” Sabito answered without hesitation.
Hajime immediately refuted, “Give me a break.
Look at yourself, you can barely stand.
You want to draw their attention?
I’m better off lying here as bait.
Run while you still have the strength and get help!”
“I’m older.
You should listen to me.”
“I was twenty-four in my past life, and still a student.
Add both lifetimes together, and I’m older than you, both your Kouhai’s combined.”
“Who the hell counts their past life?
Then I was forty-two in my past life, that’s older than all of you combined!”
As they argued, the footsteps grew closer.
A chorus of human voices echoed through the air.
“Over there!
We found them!”
Rushing into view were not demons, but figures sprinting toward them with Nichirin blades drawn.
These were the swordsmen the two had rescued earlier.
At the sight of the devastated clearing, their expressions shifted.
They hurried toward Hajime and Sabito.
“Hajime, Sabito, you’re safe!
Thank goodness!”
“We heard the commotion and followed the noise here.”
“How do you feel?
Does anything hurt?”
“What a stupid question.
Hajime and Sabito just survived a brutal battle!
Everyone, stop standing around!
Use your scabbards and haoris to make stretchers.
We’ll carry Hajime and Sabito out of here.”
Several swordsmen sported minor injuries, their heads and bodies wrapped in cloth strips serving as bandages.
They ignored their own wounds, focusing entirely on their saviors.
Working together, they fashioned stretchers from scabbards and haoris.
They carefully lifted Hajime and Sabito onto them.
A few burly swordsmen took the carrying handles, while the rest drew their swords, forming a protective perimeter.
The group departed, heading east toward their makeshift base camp.
Four days later.
A dense sea of wisteria enveloped the slopes of Mt.
Fujikasane.
On a plateau at the mountain’s foot sat the entrance to the Final Selection.
Everyone who survived gathered here.
Nearly all of them were covered in dirt and grime, their hair wild and matted.
Some bore injuries, their heads and bodies still wrapped in makeshift bandages.
But the Final Selection was over.
They had survived.
Starting today, they would officially become members of the Demon Slayer Corps.
Standing among the crowd, Hajime smiled brightly.
Passing the Final Selection meant the effort he put in over the past year and a half had been acknowledged.
If that was the case, what was wrong with being happy?
Should he refuse to celebrate when celebration was warranted?
Must he mimic certain people, acting profound and mature, remaining so stone-faced that he had to force an expression of utter apathy?
Before the two children with different black and white hair arrived, panel appeared in front of his eyes,
[Strength: E (19%)]
[Endurance: E (16%)]
[Agility: E (17%)]
This was his harvest from the Final Selection.
Strictly speaking, after slaying Hand Demon on the third night, he hardly slew any more demons.
Partly because his body genuinely needed rest, but also because the rescued swordsmen insisted on it.
They were ashamed to keep accepting protection.
They felt that having come to this Final Selection, they ought to fight the demons themselves.
The Demon Slayer Corps existed to protect others, not the other way around.
If they were always the ones being protected, they might as well leave the Corps early and become ordinary people.
Among those holding this conviction was Sabito’s Kouhai, Giyu.
So for the next few days, Hajime, Sabito, Aoi, and a few swordsmen tasked with protecting them stayed at the base, while the others formed groups to hunt demons.
Hajime glanced at the information.
Seeing no changes in the rest of the data, he was about to dismiss it when he noticed another detail,
[Equipment:]
[Nichirin blade (???): E (3%)]
What was going on?
Hajime’s mind went blank for a second.
He clearly remembered that the information in the Equipment section previously had neither question marks nor percentage figures.
So what did this mean now?
His thoughts drifted back to the early morning of the day he left.
When he woke up, Jigoro had already departed, leaving behind a prepared breakfast and this Nichirin blade on the tatami.
Because only official swordsmen could receive designated Nichirin blades, the ones used during the Final Selection were provided by each participant’s Master.
When he drew the sword back then, he was shocked by the rust covering the blade.
He seriously doubted this sword could slay demons, it might not even be able to kill a chicken.
Of course, the events on the mountain proved this sword was sharper than a new one.
Do you like it?