If he couldn’t figure it out, he wouldn’t dwell on it.
Whatever.
The Final Selection was over anyway.
He might as well ask his Master upon returning.
Shaking off his thoughts, Hajime watched the two children with differing hair colors slowly walking over in the morning sun.
“Welcome back.”
Two children appeared before the crowd, identical in every way, from their hairstyles and hair colors to their faces and outfits.
“Congratulations, everyone.
It’s good you all made it back safely.”
Everyone turned toward Hajime and Sabito.
If not for them, most of these people would be dead.
“First, we’ll take your measurements, then issue uniforms and engrave your ranks.
There are ten ranks total.
Right now, all of you hold the lowest rank, Mizunoto.”
(Rankings in Demon Slayer Corps, Mizunoto -> Mizunoe -> Kanoto -> Kanoe -> Tsuchinoto -> Tsuchinoe -> Hinoto -> Hinoe -> Kinoto -> Kinoe)
“Additionally, you may choose your Tamahagane for forging your Nichirin blades.
The swords will take ten to fifteen days to complete.”
At that moment, Hajime felt the rusted sword at his waist tremble with a low hum of dissatisfaction.
He pressed his hand against the blade instinctively, but detected nothing.
‘What’s going on?
An illusion from exhaustion, probably.’
One of the white-haired girls clapped.
“Caw!
Caw!
Caw!”
Pitch-black Kasugai Crows circled overhead, as if selecting their charges.
They dove from the sky, landing on the shoulders of their chosen companions.
“From now on, the Kasugai Crows will accompany you.
Kasugai Crows are primarily used for communication.”
Hajime looked up in confusion.
‘Crow?
This is a pigeon.’
A snow-white pigeon, dug its claws into Hajime’s shoulder, blissfully unaware of his confusion.
It even let out cheerful coos.
The uniform consisted of a black top and pants, resembling a modern Japanese school uniform with modifications for combat practicality.
On the back was a large “Destroy” character, highlighting the Corps resolve.
The selected Tamahagane would be delivered to the Swordsmith Village by the Kakushi, a unit specializing in logistics and aftermath processing, and handed to their respective swordsmiths.
The swordsmiths would forge the Tamahagane alongside “Scarlet Crimson Iron Sand” and “Scarlet Crimson Ore”, iron ores that had absorbed sunlight, creating the unique Nichirin blades.
Though the Demon Slayer Corps was an organization, its structure remained relatively loose.
Upon officially becoming a Demon Slayer, one would receive missions via the Kasugai Crow, investigate designated locations, and slay demons.
Because of this, two people familiar with each other would soon be busy with their own tasks, with little opportunity to meet again.
At the foot of Mt.
Fujikasane, Hajime, Sabito, and Giyu had to part ways.
Hajime was heading to Mt.
Momoyama, while Sabito and Giyu needed to return to Mt.
Sagiri.
“Don’t die before we meet again.”
“You too.
Take care.”
After Hajime and Sabito bumped fists, Giyu gathered his courage and bowed deeply.
“Hajime, thank you for looking after my Senpai.”
Giyu knew that after he’d lost consciousness, Hajime and Sabito had slain demons together and rescued other swordsmen.
During that time, they’d even encountered Hand Demon, though the monster had already turned to ash by the time they arrived, the devastation of the scene made that easy to deduce.
If not for Hajime, the Senpai who meant so much to him might have died.
Noting Giyu’s heartfelt gratitude, Sabito crossed his arms and put on a stern face.
“Giyu, what nonsense are you spouting?”
“Hahaha!” Hajime let out a hearty laugh and waved his hand.
“Not at all.
Sabito and I helped each other out, there’s no question of anyone looking after the other.
But you, Giyu, while your performance in this Final Selection might not have been ideal, I hope you won’t lose heart.”
“In a way, humans and demons share one trait: the capacity to grow, to reach infinite potential.
Keep training, and you’ll become a Hashira too.”
Giyu’s face lit up with excitement.
“Really?
I can actually become a Hashira?”
“Of course.
I’m an excellent judge of character.”
Hajime parted ways with them, looked up, and headed toward Mt.
Momoyama.
Far away, deep within a mountain range, sat a Japanese estate.
In one of its courtyards, a man with a gentle presence sat formally on the engawa.
Sunlight fell upon him, illuminating the abnormality on his face.
What should have been a handsome visage was marred by rotting flesh on his forehead, winding, twisted ulceration indescribable, more like an illness than a wound.
The man seemed in high spirits, utterly unbothered, even letting out a hearty laugh.
This was Kagaya Ubuyashiki, the current Master leading the Demon Slayer Corps.
“You seem happy.
Some good news?”
A beautiful woman with frost-white hair crossed the courtyard with quick steps.
She knelt behind him.
“Amane, did you know?
Only one person was eliminated in this Final Selection.
All the other children survived.”
No wonder Kagaya was overjoyed.
Since the birth of the Demon Slayer Corps, there had never been a Final Selection with casualties this light.
He had a premonition.
The new Hashira who would support the Demon Slayer Corps would be born among these children, and more than just one.
The war between the Demon Slayer Corps and demons had raged for a thousand years.
It stemmed from the true ancestor of demons, and simultaneously the shame of the Ubuyashiki family: Muzan Kibutsuji.
Because Muzan transformed into a demon, the Ubuyashiki family suffered a curse from the gods.
All children born to the family, especially the males, were sickly and frail, dying not long after birth.
To continue their bloodline, the Ubuyashiki family followed the Kannushi’s advice, marrying girls from the Priest family generation after generation.
Though this prolonged their lives, no one successfully lived past thirty.
Every generation of the Ubuyashiki Master hoped to slay Muzan and end the family’s curse.
They all failed.
For the Demon Slayer Corps, Muzan and his demons were like the impenetrable night before dawn, profound and utterly hopeless, threatening to crush the entire world.
No light.
No dawn.
Only eternal night.
Now, Kagaya saw faint hope.
A glimmer of light that could go out at any moment.
Amane said nothing, silently taking her husband’s hand.
No matter what the road ahead held, she had long decided to walk it alongside him.
Surrounded by frost-covered peach trees, in a clearing where the snow had yet to melt, a boy swung his practice sword with all his might.
The boy did not look very old.
He should have been at an age full of vitality, but a gloomy expression always clouded his face.
By now, the sun hung high in the sky, sunlight pouring down from above, but the air carried little warmth.
The dead of winter had arrived.
A gruff voice called out from nearby.
“Kaigaku, stop rushing.
Come over here for a second.” An old man stood a short distance away, waving at the boy.
He had white hair, a short stature, and a scar beneath his left eye.
He leaned on a walking stick, his right leg was a wooden prosthetic.
This old man was Jigoro Kuwajima, the Former Thunder Hashira who had trained Hajime.
“Coming, Master.” Joy flashed across Kaigaku’s face.
He sheathed his sword at once and hurried over.
He had not been studying under Jigoro for long, only these two months.
In that time, the former Hashira had not taught him any Breathing styles or Thunder Breathing forms.
From morning to night, aside from training his physical stamina, he was made to swing his sword endlessly.
Kaigaku did not understand.
What was the point of endlessly practicing sword swings?
Could this rigid training alone defeat demons?
He knew of the existence of demons.
He had nearly been eaten by one, and that was why he wanted to become a Demon Slayer.
Now that his master was calling him, could it be that he was actually planning to teach him the real skills?
It was about time.
Kaigaku dashed over, only to hear the old man say, “You don’t need to bring your sword.
Go change your clothes and come down the mountain with me.”
Kaigaku froze.
“Down the mountain?”
Did teaching him Total Concentration Breathing require going down the mountain?
Besides, Thunder Breathing had six forms.
How was he supposed to practice without his sword?
A kind smile rested on Jigoro’s face.
“By my estimation, your Senpai should be back tomorrow.
The two of us are going down the mountain today to buy extra ingredients in town, so we can prepare a hearty feast and welcome him home.”
The delight vanished from Kaigaku’s face instantly, as his expression sombered.
That was it?
He was interrupting his training for this pointless reason?
Making him run errands?
Why should he waste precious training time doing chores for his Senpai?
Kaigaku felt great thinking this, until he realized he had accidentally spoken aloud.
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