Watching the girl eat with relish, Hajime rose and walked to the edge of the lake.
Beneath its surface, fish swam about happily, carefree, with no idea what awaited them.
Catching fish required technique.
An expert with a sharpened wooden stick could spear dozens.
A novice might spend an entire day and catch absolutely nothing.
But people from different professions approached fishing differently.
A Witcher’s technique, for instance: bombs to blast the fish out of the water.
Simple, fast, effective.
But Hajime, a swordsman on the verge of becoming an official Demon Slayer, would never resort to something so crude.
He had his own method for catching fish.
Time to show off his true skill.
Hajime drew the sword from his waist.
The sword was covered in nicks and rusted spots.
Jigoro had pressed it into his hands before he left.
Hajime didn’t understand why Master had given him such a broken blade.
A demon’s neck was tough, could a sword like this really sever one?
But after last night’s events, he no longer doubted it.
Hajime raised the sword high above his head, settling into a high stance.
He drew a deep breath, pulling the white mist deep into his lungs.
‘Thunder Breathing, Fifth Form: Heat Lightning!’
Scorching lightning erupted from the blade, striking the lake’s surface.
Electric serpents slithered outward in all directions, and the entire lake blazed with sudden light.
The fish swimming below convulsed violently, bellies turning upward, eyes white-rimmed and rolling.
*Zzzzt, zzzzt-*
Once the electric glow faded from the water’s surface, Hajime dove in, scooping up a few plump fish and hauling himself back to shore.
He’d deliberately held back the technique’s power, refusing to use his full strength.
The fish hadn’t been killed, just paralyzed, floating helplessly for the time being.
Aoi, nibbling at the roasted fish, gaped in stunned silence.
It was her first time seeing someone use a breathing technique developed by Demon Slayer Corps not to slay demons, but to catch fish.
The campfire crackled.
Beside it, the boy and girl ate grilled fish in silence, fish bones scattered around them.
Noticing she had finished her grilled fish again, Hajime reached for another skewer roasting by the fire and held it out.
“Want more?”
“No, thank you.” Aoi patted her stomach.
“I’m full.”
Hajime wolfed down the rest of his meal.
He tossed the wooden skewer into the fire and poured lake water over the flames to extinguish them.
He glanced at Aoi.
“Rest up while you can.”
Demons feared sunlight and only emerged at night.
Humans had to adjust accordingly, sleeping by day and hunting demons after dark.
Aoi stayed awake, sitting blankly by the dead fire, lost in thought.
“What’s wrong?”
Her mood dampened.
“Was it really okay to leave him there?”
Hajime paused.
He knew immediately who she meant.
Jutaro, the man who had sold them out to Demons last night in exchange for his own survival, only to die anyway.
“We had to move fast.
There was no other way.”
“But…
we should at least let him rest in peace.” She hesitated.
“It’s still early…
we could go back, find his body, give him a proper burial.
There’s still time…”
“No need.”
“Why?”
“It’s mostly digested by now.”
Aoi stared at Hajime.
Several seconds passed before she fully understood.
“How could that be…”
Hajime ignored her grief and walked to a large tree.
He sat down against the trunk, hugged his sword to his chest, and closed his eyes.
He had no pocket watch and did not know the exact time.
From that moment until dawn, at least several hours had passed.
Demons fed on humans, using their flesh to replenish energy and grow stronger.
From what Hajime recalled, while some demons were particular about their “food”, most often essentially ate anything.
A freshly dead body like Jutaro’s qualified as perfectly “fresh.” Any demon passing by would eat it while it was still warm.
It was possible that during these hours, no demon had discovered Jutaro’s body.
Or perhaps Demon that found it happened to be particularly picky.
Regardless, Hajime had no intention of going back.
The reasons were simple:
First, how long had it taken them to walk here, and how long would it take to walk back?
Wasn’t using that time to rest far better?
Second, even if Hajime and Aoi adopted a self-sacrificing attitude, buried the hatchet, and laid Jutaro to rest, what then?
Demons ate anything.
Even if they buried him, who could guarantee Demons wouldn’t dig him up and devour him?
Beyond those two reasons, there was one most crucial point: Hajime did not want to go back.
People who rendered immense help to others while ignoring their own vital interests, those purely good, self-sacrificing saints, earned Hajime’s admiration, but he could not be one himself.
If Jutaro had never betrayed them and had fought to the end as a true friend…
there would be nothing to say.
Even if it meant failing the selection, Hajime would have carried Jutaro down the mountain himself and personally escorted his body to his hometown for burial, letting him return to his roots and rest in peace.
But Jutaro was no heroic, fearless swordsman.
He was a traitor who would sell out others just to survive.
Then Hajime couldn’t be blamed for his apathy.
The sun sank westward, leaving the afterglow of sunset.
Freshly awake, Hajime stretched his arms wide, then noticed Aoi crouched right beside him.
“Have you rested?”
Aoi nodded.
“Yeah.”
She’d dozed off briefly during the day, knowing demons never appeared while the sun shone, but she hadn’t actually slept, not from dawn until sunset, just like Hajime.
“Here.”
Aoi held out an onigiri wrapped in a lotus leaf.
The surface was slightly browned, giving off a fresh fragrance, clearly just roasted.
“Thanks.”
Hajime didn’t stand on ceremony.
He took a bite, the sourness of the plum mixed with the flavor of the rice, hitting the spot perfectly.
A moment later, he noticed Aoi staring at the onigiri in his hand, her throat bobbing.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
Aoi averted her gaze.
“I only had that one.”
“Is that so?” Hajime broke the onigiri in two and handed the unbitten half to her.
“This half is yours.”
Aoi didn’t reach out to take it.
She shook her head hastily.
“You protected me yesterday.
I’d be dead otherwise.
I can’t help you at all, giving it to me is a waste.
You should eat more.
I’m fine.”
Hajime didn’t pull his hand back.
“I have a small appetite.
I can’t eat this much.
It’d be a shame to waste it.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Aoi took the broken half and ate it in big bites, clearly starving.
No matter how full she’d eaten that morning, hours had passed.
She was definitely hungry.
But she’d given her only onigiri to Hajime.
Protecting this girl last night was worth it.
A half onigiri wasn’t enough to fill his stomach.
Fortunately, the lake teemed with fish.
Hajime used his fish-catching technique again, catching and roasting them to share with Aoi.
Once they’d eaten and drunk their fill, the last ray of light withdrew into the forest.
Night fell, and darkness enveloped the land.
“What do we do now?”
After last night’s experience, Aoi relied entirely on Hajime, looking to him as her anchor.
“We stay right here.
We’re not going anywhere.”
“Huh?”
Hajime naturally had his own reasons for saying this.
The passing condition for the Final Selection was to survive seven days on Mt.
Fujikasane.
Yesterday counted as the first day.
They only needed to hold out for six more.
The condition only required survival, no demon-slaying quota.
If that was the case, why run all over the mountain instead of just waiting here?
Compared to demons, humans were at an disadvantage.
A drop in stamina eroded combat ability.
Bleeding could be life-threatening.
Injured limbs meant a crisis.
So instead of running blindly, they were better off staying put.
If some demon came their way, they’d slay it without hesitation.
If none came, they’d conserve their energy and wait.
Besides that, there was an even more important reason…
Before crossing over, Hajime had watched Demon Slayer anime, but that was ages ago.
He couldn’t remember many parts clearly.
But when it came to Mt.
Fujikasane, one place stood out vividly in his memory.
Mt.
Fujikasane was supposed to be a beginner’s trial, just a place for novices to practice.
But hidden in this beginner’s trial was a massive threat.
If he wasted too much stamina on small demons and wore down his Nichirin blade’s edge, only to run into the Hand Demon…
They’d be done for.
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