With the Final Selection approaching, Horitake packed and prepared to leave. Neither he nor Jigoro were sentimental types, so the farewell was light. Jigoro grinned, "Go show those Corps rookies what you're made of, kid. Kill some demons!"
"Don't worry, old man. I won't tarnish your name," Horitake replied.
Zenitsu, however, was a mess, tears streaming. "Aniki, Fujikasaneyama's so dangerous! You have to come back alive!"
Horitake froze. Did he just jinx me? In dramas, "come back alive" often meant the opposite. Fuming, he smacked Zenitsu's head, leaving a lump. "You cursing me, punk?!"
Zenitsu wailed, clutching the bump. "Aniki, I was just wishing you luck! Why hit me?"
"I don't need that kind of luck!" Horitake turned to Jigoro. "Old man, while I'm gone, drill this kid hard!"
"Count on it," Jigoro said.
"Nooo, Grandpa! Aniki! I'll die!" Zenitsu cried.
Amid the chaos, Horitake left Peach Mountain. Unbeknownst to him, Jigoro's calm facade hid growing worry, which turned to anxiety over the next few days. His disciple was like a son—how could he not fret?
After days of travel, Horitake reached Fujikasaneyama's base, greeted by vibrant wisteria trees, their purple blooms encircling the mountain in a breathtaking floral sea. He climbed the steps through a red torii gate, stopping on a stone platform where other sword-wielding aspirants waited, all aiming to join the Demon Slayer Corps.
Horitake leaned against a railing, conserving energy while scanning the crowd. Activating Spirit Vision, he assessed their vitality and strength. Average, uneven. Few will pass, fewer will survive.
Then, a vibrant aura caught his eye—a girl. Strikingly beautiful, with pale green eyes, flushed cheeks, moles beneath her eyes, and cherry-pink braids tipped with green. Mitsuri Kanroji, his mission target. Despite her delicate appearance, her muscle density was eight times normal, her strength and defense surpassing most men. At fourteen months old, she'd lifted a 15-kilogram pickling stone. A notorious big eater, her black hair turned pink-green after eating 170 sakura mochi daily for eight months. Her unique traits and appetite led to failed marriage prospects, driving her to join the Corps to find a stronger, protective husband.
Horitake perked up. A strong, protective husband? Look no further, Obanai Iguro—I got here first.
Mitsuri, scanning the aspirants, seemed disappointed. None stronger than me. Then her eyes met Horitake's. Handsome! was her first thought. Strong! her second. Horitake, polished from two years of grooming, was a standout. To Mitsuri, he was a prime candidate.
Horitake, keeping it cool, gave a gentle nod and smile. That simple gesture sent Mitsuri's cheeks flushing, hearts practically floating around her.
He didn't approach, focusing on the Selection's start but keeping an eye on her. Why not stick close to protect her? Strategy. Fujikasaneyama's demons were mostly weak, except the Hand Demon. Even that, Horitake figured, wasn't Mitsuri's match. So where was her crisis? The butterfly effect's source was unclear—enemy unknown, situation murky. He'd trail her in the mountain, staying vigilant.
As night fell, two small figures emerged from the torii, lanterns in hand—a white-haired girl and a black-haired "girl," their eyes eerily vacant. The Ubuyashiki twins, from the Corps' leading family. The white-haired one was a daughter of Oyakata-sama, Kagaya Ubuyashiki; the black-haired one was his son, Kiriya, raised as a girl until thirteen due to the family's frail male heirs.
The twins spoke calmly, alternating: "Thank you for gathering tonight for the Demon Slayer Corps' Final Selection. Fujikasaneyama holds demons captured by our swordsmen, unable to escape due to the wisteria blooming year-round from the base to the mid-slope. Beyond this point, no wisteria grows, and demons roam freely. Survive seven days to pass. Good luck."
They bowed, their etiquette flawless, befitting the Ubuyashiki clan.
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