At exactly eight o'clock in the morning, the square at the foot of Fujikasane Mountain fell into silence. Two little girls in identical purple kimonos appeared, walking with light steps.
One had snow-white hair, the other hair as dark as ink. Both wore their short bobs neatly cut to the neck, with wisteria hairpins glinting softly at their temples. Their presence carried both innocence and solemnity.
They were the youngest daughters of the Ubuyashiki family, children of Ubuyashiki Kagaya, the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps. Despite their youth, they carried themselves with dignity befitting their father's station. They had come to preside over the Final Selection.
The twins walked past the assembled candidates and stopped at the mountain path behind them. Their small eyes swept over the gathering.
At once, the buzzing of voices ceased.
The white-haired girl spoke first, her voice clear but firm.
"Thank you all for coming to participate in the final selection test of the Demon Slayer Corps."
The black-haired girl continued without pause.
"Behind us is Fujikasane Mountain. This is where the demons captured by the Corps are imprisoned."
The white-haired girl said, "They cannot leave the mountain. The slopes are ringed with wisteria flowers, which demons fear."
The black-haired girl: "Survive for seven days within the mountain, and you will be deemed worthy of joining the Demon Slayer Corps."
The white-haired girl: "Seven days from now, at this very place, those who pass will be given identification, uniforms, and the material to forge a Nichirin Blade."
The black-haired girl: "Those who perish or flee into the wisteria grove will be judged unworthy. Only survivors of the trial will be accepted."
The white-haired girl's voice softened slightly.
"For those who fall, the Ubuyashiki family will see to their families' compensation. For those who flee, you will never be welcomed by the Corps again."
Finally, the black-haired girl ended with a bow. "Good luck to you all."
The pair bent at the waist, showing the same humility that their father was known for. Even the smallest children of the Ubuyashiki clan treated the candidates with respect. It was a quiet reminder why the clan had led the Corps for nearly a thousand years.
The crowd instinctively bowed back.
Kimura, leading his large group, was the first to march up the stone steps, Eimi close by his side. The rest followed in neat lines.
At the rear trailed Yukishiro, his white garments standing out like a pale flame. Beside him shuffled the timid figure of Kanroji Mitsuri, who bowed nervously when they passed the Ubuyashiki twins.
The stone steps ended halfway up the mountain. Beyond the bluestone pavement stretched only dirt and overgrown weeds. The sunlight slanted through the trees, casting long shadows across the earth, and the boundary was stark.
Here was safety. Beyond lay death.
A dense forest stretched ahead, dark and endless, home to the demons. To cross into it was to accept risk. To endure it was to earn glory for oneself and one's family. In an age when demons roamed unchecked, there was no higher honor than to join the Demon Slayer Corps.
It was still day, and few demons stirred except in the deepest shadows. Night, everyone knew, would bring the true peril.
The candidates hesitated at the forest's edge. The clearing was broad, the sunlight warm. Here, at least, they were safe. Kimura seized the moment to display his leadership.
"Everyone, we'll rest here," he said, raising his voice.
"The sun keeps the demons at bay. We should conserve our strength for what lies ahead."
His words were met with ready agreement.
"Yes, Captain Kimura is right."
"Best to be prepared."
The group spread out, drinking from canteens and finding stones or tree roots to sit upon. Kimura and Eimi claimed a smooth stone platform, where Kimura sat with calm authority while Eimi remained subdued, her expression touched with lingering melancholy.
It was then that a white figure appeared at the bend of the stairway.
Yukishiro descended in silence, his presence drawing startled looks. For a moment, many realized they had almost forgotten about him—this silver-haired youth who had separated himself from them.
While others bristled with tension as if expecting a demon to leap from the woods, Yukishiro looked as though he were merely strolling through a garden.
He passed through their midst with unhurried steps, neither acknowledging nor avoiding them, until he reached the dirt path.
Without hesitation, he entered the forest.
Gasps followed him.
And, trailing behind, went Kanroji Mitsuri.
Her pink haori fluttered faintly as she kept her head down, unable to withstand the stares and murmurs of the crowd. To some, her cowardice was repulsive, but in the end, she had chosen to walk with him.
Kimura smirked. "See? I told you she doesn't need sympathy. If she were truly terrified, she wouldn't follow him."
Eimi exhaled softly, relief easing her heart.
Inside the woods, silence reigned.
The air was damp, heavy with the smell of moss and rot. Leaves drifted down, crunching faintly beneath their feet.
On the narrow path, the two walked—Yukishiro in white, aloof and cold, Mitsuri in pink, her head lowered in guilt or shame.
After a short descent and a straight stretch of trail, Yukishiro stopped abruptly. Mitsuri, startled, collided into his back.
Her forehead struck him, but worse, he felt something soft press against him. Twice.
A strange heat flared in his chest.
His usual icy composure wavered. When he turned sharply to glare at her, his eyes dropped unwillingly to her chest.
His breath hitched. He looked away at once, his face warming in irritation. Ridiculous. How can a girl this age…?
Luckily, Mitsuri kept her gaze down, unaware of his discomfort.
He inhaled deeply, regaining his cold tone. "Why are you following me?"
She trembled, stammering, her words breaking apart. "I… I don't know who to go with. Th-they don't want me with them."
"They don't want you? Do I?" His thought was sharp, biting.
Aloud, he said flatly, "This is the Demon Slayer Corps selection, not a gathering for friends. You don't need to stick to me."
Mitsuri's head snapped up suddenly, eyes wide with fragile hope. "So… you are willing to be friends with me?"
Her hands clasped together in front of her chest, her face alight with sudden joy. She leaned forward so quickly she nearly collided with his chin. Yukishiro dodged back in time, his expression tightening.
This woman… how does she twist rejection into friendship?
He stared at her, baffled, a rare flicker of frustration stirring beneath his calm exterior.