What did he want most?
Sun Breathing, of course.
Sun Breathing was the origin of all Breathing Styles, created centuries ago by the sword saint of the Warring States period, Yoriichi Tsugikuni.
Every Breathing Style in existence was a derivative of Sun Breathing.
Unfortunately, Demon Slayer Corps lineage of Sun Breathing had been completely severed.
After Yoriichi’s death, Muzan Kibutsuji and Kokushibo, Michikatsu Tsugikuni, had slaughtered every swordsman who knew Sun Breathing.
They didn’t know the transmission hadn’t been entirely eradicated.
The anime’s protagonist Tanjiro, knew the Hinokami Kagura, passed down through the Kamado family as an offering to the God of Fire to pray for peace, was precisely Sun Breathing.
But Sun Breathing demanded extreme talent.
Even Yoriichi’s own older brother, Michikatsu, couldn’t learn it.
Neither could the swordsmen of Demon Slayer Corps.
That was why other Breathing Styles branched off.
Hajime wasn’t particularly worried.
Because he had cheat.
He had learned Thunder Breathing through it.
Under Jigoro, every day brought monotonous, repetitive drills.
No progress came from it naturally.
The System silently and faithfully recorded his efforts.
Proficiency in the System’s messages kept rising.
Once proficiency hit 100%, Thunder Breathing crystallized within the System.
In that instant, Hajime felt it’s proficiency flood through him.
The sensation was incredible, as if he had been born knowing Thunder Breathing.
He didn’t need to worry about learning Sun Breathing.
The real question was how to find Tanjiro.
That was the tricky part.
Hajime knew the Kamado family had lived isolated on a mountain for generations, with a town at the foot where Tanjiro went daily to sell charcoal.
Beyond that scant information, he knew nothing.
This country was covered in mountains.
Knowing only that Tanjiro’s family lived on one was practically useless.
Perhaps they could visit every mountain town and ask the locals about a boy who sold charcoal.
The results would likely be limited, however.
In this era, there were countless children like Tanjiro, forced to provide for their families at a young age.
Irritation flared in Hajime.
He closed his eyes, forcing a deep breath to steady himself.
Irritation would change nothing.
A journey of a thousand miles began with a single step.
He just needed to focus on the present.
Physical exhaustion dragged Hajime into sleep.
He woke in the evening.
The sunset blazed crimson, setting the sky on fire.
The sun’s heat had faded, but demons still wouldn’t dare emerge.
They only hunted once the light was entirely gone.
Beside the campfire sat a boy with peach hair, wearing a fox mask.
Sabito grilled two onigiri over the flames.
Hearing movement, he glanced over as Hajime sat up from the dirt.
“Awake?
Get some more rest.
I’ll wake you if anything happens.”
Hajime shook his head, standing to brush the leaves from his clothes.
“Can’t sleep anymore.”
Sabito casually tossed over a grilled onigiri.
“If you can’t sleep, then eat something.”
Hajime caught it easily.
“So sudden!
Weren’t you worried I’d miss?”
“You caught it, didn’t you?” Sabito said.
Hajime rolled his eyes.
He wiped his hands on his haori, unwrapped the lotus leaf, and took a bite.
“Taste alright?
My Kouhai made them.”
“Kouhai?”
Hajime immediately thought of a specific person.
“A very skilled girl.
She can cook, weave flower wreaths, and mend clothes.
She’ll make a caring wife someday, though I wonder who will be lucky enough to marry her.”
Hajime took a large bite.
Hearing the pride in Sabito’s voice, he laughed.
“As her Senpai, you’re essentially her eldest brother.
You’d better screen her suitors carefully.
You can’t just let some wild boar come rooting around.”
“Obviously.
I’d do that even without you saying so.”
As they chatted, the sun’s radiance faded into darkness.
This was already the third night.
If they could endure four more days, the Final Selection would be over.
Sabito had mentioned that over twenty examinees were participating.
They had saved nearly half of them the night before, slaying an equal number of the demons serving as examiners on Mt.
Fujikasane.
But Hajime knew one specific threat had yet to appear.
“Let’s go.
Time to move.”
Sabito extinguished the campfire.
Hajime nodded, adjusting his grip on his sword.
A violent tremor rippled through the ground.
Heavy footsteps struck the earth, as if some behemoth was slowly trudging toward them.
Hajime and Sabito exchanged a shocked glance.
It was impossible for an elephant to exist here.
The only explanation was a demon trapped on the mountain.
How enormous was the creature producing these footsteps?
Hajime stiffened.
He knew what they were about to face.
Moonlight spilled through the branches, creating a tranquil scene.
But that peace shattered.
Branches groaned and trunks snapped beneath a colossal weight.
A monster several meters tall emerged from the forest, bloated like a mountain of flesh.
Four elephantine legs supported it.
On its teal surface, countless arms twisted together.
Two thick arms shielded its neck, while a third curled over its head like a helmet.
Cross-shaped pupils gleamed with bloodthirsty light within his golden eyes.
The demon must have consumed countless humans to grow so large.
The ground trembled with his every step.
His bloated body shifted clumsily, unable to move with the agility of normal demons.
“Weird, how come I haven’t seen a single person?
Where did everyone go?” Hand Demon frowned.
He had lived on Mt.
Fujikasane long enough to deduce the timing of every Final Selection.
For newly trapped demons, the apprentice swordsmen might provoke excitement and fear, but he was different.
In his eyes, the swordsmen were nothing but food.
No matter how many came, they were rushing to their deaths.
Ever since Sakonji Urokodaki defeated him in the Edo period, time had flown by.
Over forty years had passed.
Hand Demon had never stopped trying to escape, but he always failed.
Wisteria bloomed across the mountain year-round.
The flowers didn’t merely emit a repulsive scent, they were strongly poisonous to demons.
Merely smelling the wisteria could trigger a severe physical reaction in weaker creatures.
To escape, Hand Demon fought other demons for food and concealed himself.
A demon’s power came from eating humans.
Understanding this, he had constantly strived to hunt.
He had devoured forty-two people so far.
Eleven were disciples of that detestable Sakonji.
Unable to seek direct revenge, he killed Sakonji’s disciples to vent his hatred.
Would Sakonji send his disciples to their deaths again?
Just then, he heard footsteps approaching.
Hand Demon smiled at the approaching footsteps.
The Final Selection had been underway for three days, yet he hadn’t encountered anyone.
He wasn’t going to let this one escape.
He was certain it was a human.
Demons wouldn’t approach him.
The arms coiled around his body shot out like spears, grasping toward the trees.
A metallic flash sliced through the darkness, severing the arms.
Hand Demon froze.
This was different from before.
A boy stepped over the fallen leaves, wearing a fox mask and a haori woven with a geometric pattern of yellow, orange, and green.
His lowered Nichirin blade glowed with a pale blue light.
Recognition clicked in Hand Demon’s mind, and he launched more arms.
The strike couldn’t touch Sabito.
Even the unavoidable blows were severed by his blade.
Sabito closed the distance in a flash.
Unused to enemies getting so close, Hand Demon panicked.
Every arm he shot out was either dodged or severed.
Sabito was already upon him.
‘Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!’
A flowing current surged from the blade.
The strike severed the protective arms and sliced into the demon’s flesh, but stopped there.
It was like hitting an iron wall.
The blade lodged in his neck.
Even Sabito lost focus for a split second.
The panic in Hand Demon’s eyes faded.
The sword hung trapped within his neck.
Bloodlust replaced his fear.
Several arms swelled from his body, swiping at Sabito.
Suspended in the air, Sabito couldn’t dodge.
A figure struck the ground like lightning.
‘Thunder Breathing, Second Form: Rice Spirit!’
Thunder boomed.
Lightning slashes descended, severing every teal arm reaching for Sabito.
The reprieve snapped Sabito out of his daze.
He kicked Hand Demon in the face, wrenched his sword free, and fell back beside Hajime.
Hand Demon swung his massive arms, driving them away.
His heart pounded furiously.
Lingering fear gripped him.
His neck had almost been severed.
This was only the second time that had happened since his encounter with Sakonji.
His eyes swept the scene, landing on the boy in the fox mask.
It was the same sword style Sakonji had used.
Hand Demon understood instantly.
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