"Total Concentration—Constant!"
Tanjiro blinked, repeating the term as if tasting a strange word for the first time. "Total Concentration… Constant… uh, what's that?"
Urokodaki folded his arms. "You've already learned Total Concentration Breathing. 'Constant' means keeping that state active all the time. Every breath you take, every step, every strike—maintained at one hundred percent. Your body adapts and grows stronger, but…" His tone grew heavier. "...it's extremely difficult. Only the Hashira—or those with the potential to become one—can truly master it."
Normally, a trainer would never teach such a technique during the apprentice stage.But clearly, this was no ordinary pair of disciples.
Fine, Urokodaki thought. If we're doing this, we're doing it big.
Year One: establish the foundation, master Water Breathing.Year Two: begin Total Concentration—Constant.
Chika could almost hear a game-like jingle in her head."Tutorial Complete! You may now grind EXP in the Starter Village!"
If they pulled this off, wouldn't the Final Selection be just a "slice-the-cabbages" type of mission?
Of course, it wasn't that easy. Maintaining constant focus while your body screamed under the strain wasn't simply an exercise—it was endurance warfare.If Total Concentration Breathing was the baseline, then Constant was like going Super Saiyan Full Power—a state that had to be maintained until it became second nature.
And so began their long grind.
At first, they could only hold it for a few minutes before their lungs burned and their vision swam.Weeks later, they managed half an hour.Months later, hours.What sounded simple took years.
One Night.
Tanjiro sat at his desk by candlelight, scribbling into his diary.Yes, a diary. Because in this world, only two types of people keep journals:the unserious kind—who fake profundity with doodles,and the hyper-serious kind—like Tanjiro, who writes as though chronicling sacred history.
After jotting down the day's summary, he closed the notebook and let out a slow breath.
Just as he turned toward the futon where Nezuko lay peacefully asleep, the door slid open.Fresh from washing up, Chika poked her head in.
"You're still up?" she teased. "Worrying about Nezuko again?"
Tanjiro looked down at his sister's unmoving form, eyes shadowed with worry."Yeah… ever since we started training, she hasn't woken up once. Do you think she'll ever open her eyes again?"
He'd buried himself in training to numb that anxiety—but quiet nights like these tore it open again.
Chika sat beside him, her voice calm but steady. "Don't overthink it. Nezuko and I were both affected by the same demon blood. I can feel—vaguely—that she's just sleeping. She'll wake up soon."
"R-Really?!" Tanjiro's eyes lit with desperate hope.
"Mm-hm." Chika smiled reassuringly.(Translation: No, she can't feel anything; she just knows the plot.)
"Get some rest," she said softly.
"Okay… goodnight, Sis."
Days turned into months.
Their training in Total Concentration—Constant continued alongside practice of Hinokami Kagura.The stamina cost was brutal, but the power—astonishing.The siblings quietly agreed it would be their secret trump card, reserved for the direst fights.
And before they knew it—two full years had passed.
For Chika, this marked the real beginning of Demon Slayer.Everything before this? Just prologue.
Now came the main quest: The Final Selection.
Passing it would mean joining the Demon Slayer Corps, earning their first real equipment—the iconic Nichirin Blades.
Chika's heart raced in excitement. Tanjiro was the same; the moment Urokodaki gave permission, he could barely sleep from sheer anticipation.(And yet somehow, the next morning, he looked perfectly refreshed—because, well, protagonist energy.)
Chika didn't fare much better.Sure, Tanjiro wanted to become a Demon Slayer—but she?She was waiting for the plot to begin.
She'd been given this second chance, and she wasn't about to let tragedy repeat itself.If fate had written pain into this world, then she'd rewrite it with her own hands.
The Next Morning.
Chika stood before the mirror in Urokodaki's cabin, tidying her long hair.Behind her, the old wheelchair leaned against the wall, a quiet reminder of where she'd started.
For a fleeting second, she considered bringing it along—maybe lean into that "low-profile protagonist arc."Act weak → get mocked → reveal power → face-slap → repeat ad nauseam.
She shuddered. Yeah, no thanks.
Being underestimated only for the sake of "face-slapping" drama sounded exhausting.Who in their right mind would openly sneer at someone to their face like that anyway?Only idiots—and she didn't have time to deal with idiots.
"I'll just be myself," she said with a grin. "And my name is—Kamado Chika."
She inhaled deeply, feeling the crisp mountain air fill her lungs.Then, with steady steps, she left the room and the cabin behind.
Today was the day.She and Tanjiro would descend the mountain—and head toward Mount Fujikasane, the site of the Final Selection.
The real story was about to begin.