Right then, Hajime heard something approaching rapidly.
Instinctively, he shielded Aoi behind him, his hand resting on the sword at his waist.
Hajime shielded Aoi behind him, gripping his sword, ready to draw at a moment’s notice.
By tracking the sound, he could hear something approaching rapidly.
It was fast, and the footsteps were incredibly heavy, as if carrying the weight of two people.
To have such speed with that kind of weight…
There was no mistake, it had to be a demon!
Hajime’s gaze instantly swept to the front right.
‘It was over there!’
Strike first to gain the upper hand!
‘Thunder Breathing, Fourth Form: Distant Thunder!’
The katana left its sheath, bright lightning erupted from his body, and the dirt shattered beneath his feet.
The woods on both sides streaked past the edges of his vision, the fierce wind rushing against his face and snapping his haori loudly.
He saw it!
That figure lurking in the shadows where even the moonlight could not reach.
But as he rapidly closed the distance, Hajime realized that silhouette was actually a human, and not…
‘No!’
Hajime’s eyes went wide.
There was no time to pull back his blade!
He shoved his right leg hard against the ground, forcefully twisting his body.
The blade adjusted its angle, altering its trajectory, and with a flash of lightning, slashed into a large tree.
A chunk was blasted out of the trunk, and the tree crashed to the ground.
Amidst the splintered wood, a figure stepped on fallen leaves, emerging from the shadows and walking into the moonlight.
It was a boy with warm peach hair that draped smoothly to his shoulders.
He wore a Warding Mask marked by a scarred mouth, and a geometric tortoiseshell haori woven in vibrant shades of amber, tangerine, and green.
The boy was carrying someone under his arm, a black-haired boy who also wore a fox mask and a red haori.
The black-haired boy seemed to have been attacked earlier, blood still lingered on his forehead, and his consciousness was fading in and out.
“Sorry, I made a mistake.
I thought a demon was attacking…”
Hajime sheathed his sword.
Carefully laying the black-haired boy on the ground, Aoi tore strips from her inner clothing, meticulously wrapping the cloth around the wound on his head.
Hajime stole a glance at them.
Ever since he crossed over into this world and was saved by Jigoro, he had trained under his mentor on Mt.
Momoyama.
Jigoro was great in every way, except the old man strictly believed in the sayings of “a strict teacher produces outstanding student” and “spare the rod, spoil the child”…
Not training seriously?
Beating!
Failing to meet training standards?
Beating!
Oversleeping in the morning?
Beating!
Staying up late to train at night?
Still beating!
Asking too many questions?
Believe or not beating!
Once, Hajime had tried to pry some information about Demon Slayer Corps from his mentor, hoping to deduce the rough timeline of his transmigration.
Without a word, his mentor grabbed his cane and unleashed the Beating Technique…
That beating was severe…
Even a father he had never met wouldn’t have hit him that hard.
Since then, Hajime hadn’t say or ask anything.
Don’t ask.
Asking just meant the beating.
However, now, seeing the boy wearing the fox mask with the scarred mouth, along with the unconscious black-haired boy…
Hajime was certain.
There could be no mistake.
This was the exact Final Selection that Sabito and Giyu were participating in, and the timeline was set several years before the anime’s main story began.
Which meant…
Not just Sabito, but also Makomo, Hanako…
and even Tanjiro’s entire family, were all still alive and well.
Perhaps because he knew he had the chance to save others from their tragic fates and change the impending tragedies, Hajime was in an excellent mood.
If a person crossed over into an anime world, what would they want to do?
Generally, it came down to two things:
The first was naturally to get stronger.
No one wanted to be weak.
Strength wasn’t just about martial power, wealth, influence, status, and even networks of connections could all be understood as forms of “strength.”
The second was to change the tragedies in the original story.
Create their marks on the story.
“What are you looking at?”
Sabito felt uneasy.
This boy seemed to recognize him somehow.
He searched his memory but could not recall where he had seen Hajime.
“Is this your kouhai?
What happened to him?”
Hajime ignored the question, changing the subject instead.
“We ran into a demon.
He got knocked unconscious.”
As the Senpai, Sabito was saving some respect for Giyu.
In truth, this future Water Hashira had been wounded by the very first demon right after entering Mt.
Fujikasane.
Hajime said nothing about it.
Nearby, Aoi finished treating the wound on Giyu’s head.
Sabito walked over.
“How is he?”
Aoi replied, “He’ll be fine.
The wound isn’t deep, and he only lost some blood, plus a mild concussion.”
Sabito nodded.
He and Giyu had trained together under the Former Water Hashira, Sakonji Urokodaki.
The two had a very close bond, if Giyu was okay, that was for the best.
“Please look after Giyu.” With that, Sabito prepared to leave.
“Wait, where are you going?” Hajime called out behind him.
Sabito stopped.
“Do you even need to ask?
To slay demons, of course, and to help the others fighting them.”
Even though he had not yet passed the Final Selection, Sabito already saw himself as an official swordsman of Demon Slayer Corps.
His deeply ingrained sense of justice and his desire for vengeance against evil demons made it impossible for him to ignore the bloodshed on Mt.
Fujikasane.
Demons inflicting suffering on people had to be killed, every single one of them!
Hajime stepped forward.
“I’ll go with you.”
“No!” Sabito refused flatly.
If Hajime left with him, leaving behind only the injured and a frail girl, he would not be able to rest easy.
It was not discrimination against women, but Aoi looked more like a healer tending to the wounded than a swordsman skilled in combat.
Hajime understood Sabito’s reasoning, so he proposed a compromise.
“You’re only one person with a sword.
How much strength do you have, and how many demons can you slay?
It would be better if I accompany you.
The two of us can take turns carrying your kouhai.
After we rescue others, we can hand them over to someone else to watch…
Aoi, what do you think?
Can you keep up?”
That last question was directed at Aoi beside him.
“Aoi?” Hajime called out again.
“I…
I can do it.” Aoi snapped out of her daze and nodded hurriedly.
Sabito considered for a moment.
He ultimately did not refuse, agreeing to Hajime’s proposal.
The night grew darker.
Branches trembled in the wind, casting jagged shadows across the ground.
Rapid panting broke the silence.
His lungs burned with each ragged breath, threatening to tear apart from the exertion.
Exhaustion dragged at his limbs, growing heavier with each passing second.
His arms and legs went numb, heavy as lead, and every step took more effort than he could spare.
Sweat dripped from his forehead, blinding him.
His back had been soaked long ago.
If he could rest, he would throw himself on the ground right now.
He couldn’t.
Not yet.
If he lay down, a demon would eat him alive.
“Hahaha, let’s see how long you can keep running~”
Excited shouts echoed behind him, the foul stench of blood carried on the wind.
His back went cold, like ice pressed against his skin.
Without thinking, Murata dove forward.
In the next instant, sharp claws gleamed in the moonlight and sliced through the air with a shriek, shearing off strands of his hair.
The blow missed by a hair’s breadth.
‘He dodged it?’ Demon that had leapt down ahead paused in sheer bafflement.
He stared at his own claws, clearly not expecting his ambush to fail.
He found this surprising.
This human hadn’t even looked back.
How did he dodge?
Did he have eyes on the back of his head?
Murata struggled to his feet, still not quite understanding what had happened.
He had simply yielded to his body’s instincts.
He scrambled up, trembling hands gripping his Nichirin blade, and pointed it at Demon before him.
“I…
I’m not afraid of you!
I…
I’m really strong!
Come on, if you approach, I’ll cut you down!”
His body trembled.
His sword trembled.
Even his voice trembled.
Murata was terrified, yet he did not run.
His instincts told him that at such close range, turning his back would leave him unable to react in time.
If a demon pounced from behind, it would all be over.
Better to hold his ground.
At least there was a sliver of hope.
If you like it ?