Spring peaches fell away, summer cicadas faded into the distance, and autumn maples drifted down.
Time slipped by quietly in the monotonous, harsh training on Momoyama.
After nine months of tempering, Yasui Ryosuke's changes were anything but small.
He had clearly grown taller. Though still lean, he was no longer that sickly wreck who would shatter at a touch.
The pallor was gone, and his skin had been bronzed into a wheat tone by sunlight and sweat.
"Hah! Ryosuke! Don't even think about passing me again today!"
Shota's voice rang out as his figure shot forward like lightning, reaching the finish line first.
"Huff… huff… you little brat, what are you so proud of…"
Ryosuke followed close behind, only a few steps away from Shota.
Rika was a bit behind them, her small face flushed red from running, but her steps remained steady.
After training ended, Ryosuke stared at the glaring number on the system panel—83 days of lifespan remaining—and clenched his teeth.
Yes. Even after pushing himself to the limit, strengthening his body, he still had less than three months left to live.
In the center of the dojo, two brand-new haori were folded neatly.
One was the deep brown Shota liked.
The other was Ryosuke's—jet black as the base, with fine lightning patterns embroidered along the hem in gold thread.
Jigoro handed two Nichirin Blades to the two of them.
Rika was still too young, and on top of that she was a girl with less physical strength, so she would wait another year before taking the exam.
"The time for Final Selection has come. Survive on Mount Fujikasane."
Jigoro offered no extra admonitions—he only silently looked toward Ryosuke.
According to the training plan, a talented student like Shota needed a full year before meeting the standard.
But Ryosuke was the kind of person who didn't care about his life.
When others ate, he trained. When others slept, he trained. Even while others were training, he was still training!
This time, with Shota going as well, they could look out for each other.
Ryosuke said nothing. He only gripped his Nichirin Blade tightly, bowed deeply to Jigoro, and walked down the mountain on foot.
He had to live!
He had trained to the brink of death for an entire year—just for this moment!
"Shota! Ryosuke! Come back safely!"
Behind them, Rika's voice grew more and more distant.
…
Mount Fujikasane was shrouded year-round in seas of wisteria blossoms.
Dreamlike pale-purple cascades poured down from the mountainside, forming a natural prison.
Deep within the mountain range were the demons captured by the Demon Slayer Corps.
For Final Selection, they had to survive inside for seven days.
Beyond the sea of wisteria, everything became dim.
Demons shrieked, and a stench of blood and rot filled the air.
Every inch of land here was soaked in the despair of those who failed.
Ryosuke did not stay with Shota.
Having thoroughly read the original work, he knew very well that aside from the Hand Demon—an outright bug—most of the demons here had only eaten two or three people and were relatively weak.
He could use them to practice and farm lifespan, and avoid having Shota steal the kills.
"Waaah—!"
With a screech, a demon burst out from a pile of grass—sharp teeth, a long tongue, and a lizard-like body!
It dove toward Ryosuke at terrifying speed!
Ryosuke lowered his stance and gripped his blade. As he breathed, faint lightning seemed to rage around him.
"Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash!"
Shk!
The blade sang out, as if thunder itself roared!
Ryosuke's figure flickered past in an instant. The moment his blade erupted, the demon's head was already severed, turning to ash.
[Slain a low-tier demon. Gained 10 days of lifespan. Remaining lifespan: 92 days.]
After a full year, the system's voice sounded again.
It works!
Ryosuke was ecstatic. The strain of that move on him wasn't even that heavy.
That was thanks to Thunder Breathing's speed and destructive power.
Thunder Breathing was hard to learn, but the results were obvious.
And most importantly—it looked cool!
Ten days of lifespan from one low-tier demon!
Heh heh heh~
Ryosuke didn't pause. His body blurred as he lunged toward another thicket where shrieking came from.
Fighting! Feels amazing!
Other than the Hand Demon, the small fry here were his to butcher.
…
"Strange… where are the demons? Wasn't Final Selection supposed to be brutal?"
A swordsman wearing a fox mask walked through the forest, scratching his head in confusion.
Moriyama Akira had been here for six days! Six whole days!
He had been in a ready stance since day one, but forget demons—he hadn't even seen a single hair!
Come on, man!
Was Master Urokodaki just trying to scare me?
As he was thinking that, a black shadow fell from above.
The rotten stench made his pupils contract sharply.
No way!!!
"Aoou!"
A hideous demon pinned him to the ground. His Nichirin Blade slipped from his grip and fell three meters away.
Damn it!
You old demon, no honor at all—sneaking up on a trainee who's trained for two and a half years!
The demon didn't care. Tempted by human flesh, it opened its blood-red maw and bit down.
Moriyama Akira was about to cry for help when thunder rumbled in the distance.
In an instant—lightning flashed past like a bolt!
A boy in a jet-black haori appeared beside Moriyama Akira.
Shing!
The long blade slid back into its sheath. The demon's head split and turned to ash.
The boy's ink-black long hair danced in the wind, his bearing striking.
[Slain a low-tier demon. Gained 10 days of lifespan. Remaining lifespan: 156 days.]
A Thunder Breathing swordsman?
Moriyama Akira got up and thanked Ryosuke.
"Th-thank you. My name is Moriyama Akira."
"Ryosuke. Yasui Ryosuke."
Ryosuke sheathed his sword. Seeing the fox mask, the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Y-your master is Urokodaki Sa… Mr. Urokodaki?"
"Yeah." Moriyama Akira nodded.
What a mess…
Back then, it was Urokodaki Sakonji who had captured the Hand Demon and brought it here.
Because of that, that ugly demon especially hated his disciples—seeing a fox mask was like seeing its mortal enemy.
It would go berserk on sight.
Judging by the current timeline, Sabito and Tomioka Giyu should still be training.
That meant this guy was from an earlier batch than them.
Ryosuke patted his shoulder, preparing to leave.
"Be careful."
"Thanks again."
Moriyama Akira thanked him once more.
Ryosuke hadn't taken more than two steps when an enormous, evil presence pressed down over them!
"ROAR!!!"
A howl tore apart the silence of the night sky!
As the ground trembled, a monster appeared in the distance—like a small hill in size, bluish-gray skin, with dozens of grotesque arms densely tangled all over its body!
The Hand Demon's neck was wrapped in huge arms, and its eyes locked onto Moriyama Akira's fox mask.
"Urokodaki! Another fox brat trained by Urokodaki! Hehehehehe!"
Its laughter was shrill and ear-piercing, filled with endless hatred.
"I'll eat you! I'll tear you apart! And the pain of Urokodaki locking me in here—I'll pay it back to you tenfold! A hundredfold!!"
See what I mean.
Bad.
Really damn bad.
Moriyama Akira was terrified by the demon in front of him and instinctively tightened his grip on his Nichirin Blade, taking two steps back.
"N-no way… how could a demon like you be here?!"
"Urokodaki locked me in here for thirty-nine years—since the Edo period, the Keiō era!"
The Hand Demon roared, countless arms whipping and hammering the ground. "Unforgivable! Unforgivable! Damn Urokodaki! Urokodaki! Urokodaki!"
A crushing pressure like thick mud seized both of them instantly.
Ryosuke pushed his thumb against the guard, easing his blade out. His breathing grew long and steady.
"If you don't want to die, then move!"
The moment the words fell, Ryosuke became a streak of light, flashing in—severing countless arms as he charged straight for the Hand Demon's neck!
Moriyama Akira reacted at once, misty water-vapor gathering around him.
"Water Breathing, Third Form: Flowing Dance!"
His blade flowed, forming a combined assault.
The Hand Demon raged. The severed arms regenerated instantly, whipping like long lashes.
Bang! Bang!
A tremendous force blasted both of them away.
Ryosuke clutched his chest and spat blood.
Moriyama Akira's vision went dark, and he passed out on the spot.
Ryosuke froze.
Seriously, man?! You fainted already?!
The Demon Slayer Corps, huh? I'm reporting this—someone's trolling me in the promotion match!
At that moment, fleshy masses on the Hand Demon's body compressed, and several arms shot out again to attack.
In the moment of crisis, thunder boomed, and a figure appeared in front of them.
"Thunder Breathing, Second Form: Rice Spirit!"
Boom!
Rings of lightning flared. The blade-light was like electricity—five fierce slashes tore open the Hand Demon's attack.
Shota glanced back at them.
"You alright?"
"Not dead."
Ryosuke stood up, and together with Shota, charged in again.
Lightning raged. Severed arms flew.
Though the two of them managed to suppress the Hand Demon for the moment, they were gradually running out of strength.
"This won't work—we have to cut off its neck!"
Shota blocked another strike and spoke coldly.
Ryosuke rolled his numbed wrist, fully aware as well.
A demon like the Hand Demon—having eaten close to thirty people—had an absurd regeneration ability. If its neck wasn't severed, it wouldn't die!
But its neck was protected by huge arms—tough as iron—and countless arms blocked them from getting close at all!
In an instant!
Shota couldn't react in time and was smashed hard in the side by a sweeping giant arm!
"Pfft!"
Shota spat a mouthful of blood and slammed into a boulder. His Nichirin Blade flew from his hand. A tear ripped through his deep-brown haori, and blood quickly spread.
"Kehehehehe…"
The Hand Demon laughed wildly, closing in on the nearby Shota and Moriyama Akira.
Countless arms, like vines of death, rapidly wrapped toward them.
"Damn you!"
Ryosuke spat out blood, cruelty and resolve flashing in his eyes.
If he didn't kill it, none of them would survive tonight!
"System! Add points for me—now!"