Hajime guessed he was late.
The other examinees had likely gone in ahead of him.
Fortunately, there was no rule stating no entry fifteen minutes after the exam began.
He made his way up the stone stairs.
From the foot of Mt.
Fujikasane to the mountainside, wisteria flowers that demons despised bloomed year-round.
Beyond the mountainside, the flowers stopped.
From that point onward lay Demons territory.
The passing condition for the Final Selection was surviving seven days, not slaying a certain quota of demons.
So the first priority was figuring out how to survive.
Leaving an ordinary person in a remote wilderness without water or power for seven days was difficult enough, let alone on a mountain swarming with demons.
Finding a place with a secure water source had to be the top priority.
This was a marathon, not a sprint.
He had to prepare for a prolonged battle.
Hajime pressed forward, searching his surroundings closely to guard against sudden demon attacks.
His marching footsteps halted.
Movement.
His hand went to the Nichirin blade at his waist as he crept closer.
Under the cold moonlight, beside a babbling brook, Aoi Kanzaki crouched on the damp ground, eating her meager rations in small, trembling bites.
Hearing the rustle of underbrush, she dropped her food and grabbed her Nichirin blade’s hilt, ready to draw.
Her hands shook too badly.
The blade didn’t clear the scabbard on the first pull.
“Unmei wo terashite~” (Demon Slayer opening 1 song)
Aoi’s vision blurred.
She’d fall apart entirely if she hesitated.
She finally wrenched the sword free.
“Stay back!
I’m warning you, I’m really-” She stopped.
The approaching figure wasn’t a demon.
Just a boy who’d come to take the Final Selection, exactly like her.
“Geez…
don’t scare me like that.
My heart nearly stopped.”
Aoi breathed a heavy sigh of relief, her legs giving out as she slumped onto the dirt.
“Are you alone?”
Hajime sheathed his Nichirin blade and walked toward her.
Something about this girl tugged at the back of his mind.
Familiar, but he couldn’t place it immediately.
If he couldn’t remember, it didn’t matter.
He gave her a quick once-over.
Weak.
Far too weak.
Everyone at the Final Selection came willingly, but that didn’t change what he saw: if Hajime had been a demon, this girl would already be dead.
He wasn’t surprised her Master had let her come.
Plenty of recruits crushed practice tests and crumbled entirely when it counted.
Uncomfortable under his stare, Aoi scrambled to her feet and stepped back.
“I…
I came with a teammate.”
“A teammate?”
“His name is Jutaro Inoue.” She lowered her head.
“He thought I was a burden, so he went off on his own.”
She didn’t finish, but Hajime could guess the rest.
The Final Selection’s passing condition was survival on the mountain for seven days.
Her teammate, Jutaro, probably wanted to stand out, catch a Hashira’s eye and become their successor.
Someone personally trained by a Hashira meant recognition and dedicated training.
Boundless potential, for those lucky enough.
As for this girl…
She wasn’t cut out to be a swordsman.
Even if she survived the Final Selection, she’d die on some demon’s fangs someday.
He considered how to tell her, gently, that she should give up.
Crushing leaves interrupted his thoughts.
Both he and Aoi turned sharply.
A pale-faced boy stepped out from behind a thick tree.
“Jutaro, you’re back?” Aoi brightened.
The sting of abandonment evaporated instantly.
Jutaro must have reconsidered and come back for her.
She started toward him, but Hajime firmly blocked her path.
Moonlight filtered through the canopy, catching half his face in silver.
His voice came out cold, steady as the light itself.
“Did you lead Demon here?”
Under clear moonlight.
A stream babbled through the clearing, but otherwise the forest was silent save for the howling wind.
Aoi stared at Hajime, shock evident in her wide eyes.
“Hajime, what do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
Hajime glanced at Aoi, then turned his steady gaze back to Jutaro.
The older boy watched the color drain from his already pale face as his dark secret unraveled in a single sentence.
The joyful expression Aoi had worn upon her companion’s return froze entirely on her features.
Hearing Hajime’s words and seeing Jutaro’s reaction, she understood what he had done.
Yet even now, she refused to believe it, that the companion she had grown up with, the passionate boy who had boldly vowed to eradicate all demons, could commit such a despicable act.
Aoi looked at Jutaro again, silently begging him to deny it.
What she received was not the reassurance she wanted, but the cold, cruel truth.
“…I’m sorry.”
Jutaro hung his head in guilt, not daring to look at her face.
Even ants cling to life, let alone a human.
Without experiencing true terror firsthand, making boasts and acting invincible is the easiest thing in the world.
He fully believed that with the careful instruction of his Master, he had learned all the Sword Forms quite well.
He fully believed he was second only to the Hashira, ready to face down any number of monsters.
He fully believed his trip to Mt.
Fujikasane would be a cakewalk, leaving nothing but corpses in his wake.
But he had no idea Demons would be this strong.
Wasn’t it said that Demons on Mt.
Fujikasane had only eaten two or three people?
Why was there such a strong demon?
Why was it unreasonably strong, to the point where he could not even scratch it?
Why did it turn out like this?
He didn’t want to die.
To survive, he had been forced to kneel, forced to beg for a demon’s mercy, forced to make a deal with the monster, selling out his companion to it.
Right then, as if deliberately responding to the moment, a cruel mockery echoed from the surroundings.
“You guessed right.
I ran into this brat outside, and just as I was about to eat him, he cried and begged me, willing to trade your life for his.”
“I thought I might as well believe him a little since it cost me nothing, and let him guide the way.
I didn’t expect there would be an extra bonus besides the girl, hahaha~”
Accompanied by a vile laugh, a black shadow swept in like the wind, swirling up grass clippings and fallen leaves.
He appeared directly beside Jutaro, placing a pallid, vein-webbed hand on the trembling boy’s shoulder.
Jutaro shuddered in terror.
Drawing his sword was out of the question.
He did not even have the courage to flee.
Standing next to Jutaro was a demon.
Several horns grew from his head.
Three eyes bulged from his deformed face.
His tongue hung out long like a corpse.
The nails on his hands and feet were razor-sharp, and the clothes he wore looked like they hadn’t been washed in ages, filthy and reeking.
Her companion’s betrayal, coupled with the disguise being personally ripped apart by Demon, pushed Aoi to the brink of collapse.
Tears streamed down endlessly, tracing down her face and dripping onto the dirt.
“Why…
why?
Didn’t you promise to eradicate all Demons?
Why did it turn out like this?”
Aoi’s tears triggered Jutaro’s memories of all his past experiences.
The shame of being exposed for kneeling to Demon.
The terror of its overwhelming power.
The sole trace of remorse over abandoning his companion.
This cocktail of guilt and fear twisted into an overwhelming, blind rage that overrode his reason, turning his face red and making his veins bulge.
He didn’t know where this fury came from.
He just found Hajime and Aoi unbearable, their voices scraping painfully against his nerves.
“Shut up!
You don’t understand anything!
I can’t die!
I haven’t become a Hashira yet, how can I die here?”
“Besides, I don’t even know you.
You aren’t my friends!”
“Right!
Exactly!
I’m not part of Demon Slayer Corps yet, and you aren’t my companions!”
“Selling you out to Demon doesn’t count as betrayal!”
“And as long as you’re all dead, no one will know I sold out anyone!”
Jutaro screamed with every ounce of air in his lungs.
Aoi, tears glinting in her eyes, stared at him blankly, as if seeing him for the first time.
“Kill them!
Please kill them!
I offer their lives to you right now, please enjoy!” Jutaro shrieked hysterically.
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