It had been four days of climbing and descending trails, stopping only to eat, sleep, and tend to wounds.
The way back to Mount Sagiri felt steeper than before…
Or maybe it was just the exhaustion catching up to me.
My steps were heavy.
My legs throbbed.
But my heart… was light.
I had survived.
The Final Selection was over.
And I was heading home.
---
By the end of the fourth day, with the sky growing dark and purple clouds beginning to spread,
I reached the base of the mountain.
The air was colder there, and the familiar breeze caressed my face like a whispered welcome.
But something felt different.
As I climbed the winding stone trail, I heard the sound of fast footsteps —
Then, wooden swords clashing.
Instinctively, I hid behind a tree.
Peered out slowly.
There they were.
Two figures, young like me — maybe a bit older.
A red-haired boy with a serious face and a large scar on his cheek,
And a blue-haired girl who smiled gently as she corrected his stance with a bokken.
They were training in a small clearing between the pine trees.
Their breathing was in sync. Precise.
I watched them in silence for a few seconds.
— "They're training with Urokodaki too?" — I wondered.
The girl paused for a moment and looked in my direction.
Her gaze was calm — as if she knew I was there, but didn't mind.
I stepped back, a little embarrassed.
She smiled faintly and returned to the training.
I decided to keep going.
---
Farther up, nearly reaching the plateau where the house stood, I saw another silhouette.
A quiet boy, with a closed-off expression and slightly messy black hair,
Walking with his hands in his pockets.
He passed me without saying a word.
But in the instant our eyes met, I felt something strange…
As if he, too, carried something heavy.
Something I understood.
We didn't exchange a single word.
But somehow… it didn't feel necessary.
---
I finally reached the house.
The wood was still the same — worn, creaky,
Now covered in a soft white blanket.
I stopped in front of the door. Took a deep breath.
And pushed it open slowly.
Urokodaki was inside, seated in the same corner, calmly polishing his katana.
The sound of the blade being cleaned filled the room until he looked up.
For a moment, he froze.
Then stood up, setting the sword aside.
— "You've returned."
His voice didn't tremble — but the relief in it was unmistakable.
He walked over and, in a gesture I never imagined… pulled me into a hug.
I stood frozen for a second.
And then… I let myself feel.
I closed my eyes.
Held back the tears.
But still, one slipped down.
— "Th-thank you… for everything, Master," I murmured.
— "For teaching me… for taking me in… for not giving up on me."
He stepped back with a soft sigh.
— "Go take a bath. I'll prepare dinner."
I nodded, wiping my face with the back of my hand.
---
The hot water was such a relief, it nearly made me fall asleep standing up.
I washed away the dried blood, the lingering exhaustion — and even the doubt.
Ran my fingers through my hair — it had grown longer than before.
I braided two thin strands alongside my face, more out of habit than style.
When I came out, Urokodaki had already set the table.
Soup, rice, hot tea.
We ate in silence — but it was a comfortable silence.
Every now and then, I glanced at him —
His methodical, steady, yet calm manner.
At the end of the meal, he spoke:
— "The swordsmith shouldn't take long. Might be a few more days."
— "Understood."
He looked at me from behind the mask.
I remained quiet.
— "Fubuki," he said, with that firm but warm tone.
— "You've returned stronger. But never forget: what makes a swordsman isn't strength…
…it's the heart with which you raise your blade."
I nodded.
— "I know. And I'll never forget."
---
That night, lying on the futon, I looked out the window.
The snow was falling slowly, painting the ground with an almost sacred softness.
In my mind, the image of those three young trainees reappeared:
The smiling girl, the serious red-haired boy, and the one with the deep, unreadable gaze.
Three future demon slayers…
My master's disciples…
Am I… the older brother now?