Looking into the girl's wide, hopeful eyes, Yukishiro found it difficult to refuse.
The memory of her standing alone in the square, rejected and pitiful, lingered in his mind. What happened to make her so timid, so inferior?
If only she could muster a little confidence, perhaps the others wouldn't shun her. Didn't she understand? Her own self-doubt was the very thing that kept her apart from them.
Besides, why cling so desperately to friendship? Superficial bonds—friends who can't understand each other's hearts—are hardly worth having at all.
"It's up to you," Yukishiro finally said, turning away. "Follow me if you want. But hear this: if danger comes, I won't split my focus to protect you."
The girl let out a soft gasp, as though the weight of her world had been lifted. Her lips curved into a bright smile, her eyes shimmering with relief. "Ah!" She trotted a few steps to catch up with him, her joy obvious.
"I don't need your protection," Kanroji Mitsuri said earnestly. "I can protect myself. And if you need me, I'll protect you too."
Yukishiro nearly tripped on air. Big-breasted, small-brained. If I ever needed protection from a woman like her, I might as well die on the spot.
Yet, he sensed she wasn't speaking idly. She believed in her words—and perhaps had the skill to back them. That was why, against his usual instincts, he allowed her to follow.
It wasn't just pity. It was curiosity.
Yukishiro's own breathing technique was far from perfect. Though he had not yet mastered "Total Concentration: Constant," he relied on breathing to sustain himself for most of the day, falling back into ordinary rhythm only in his sleep.
Breathing was like a habit—switching back and forth until mastery came naturally. He believed once the habit became permanent, true perfection would follow.
And when Mitsuri had looked up at him earlier, he had sensed it clearly: her breathing was steady, precise—remarkably like his own. In fact, it was faster, more refined.
So this timid girl has greater mastery than me? The thought intrigued him. How could someone so skilled be so meek?
"My name is Kanroji Mitsuri," she said softly from behind. "You can call me Mitsuri. What's your name?"
"Yukishiro."
Her eyes brightened. "That's a beautiful name! Should I call you Mr. Yukishiro, or… Mr. Yuko? I think 'Mr. Yuko' sounds nice, don't you?"
"No need," he said flatly. "Just Yukishiro."
"Yukishiro…" she repeated, tilting her head with a shy smile. Her voice lingered on the syllables, savoring them. "Yukishiro."
"What?" he snapped, already irritated.
"N-nothing," she muttered, flustered.
"Then stop calling me for no reason." His patience wore thin. Does this girl never tire of talking?
Still, she beamed as though even his irritation were precious.
The two walked deeper into the forest. Mitsuri filled the silence with light chatter, asking questions, offering remarks. Yukishiro gave short answers when he felt like it, and silence when he didn't. She accepted it all, treasuring every word.
For a time, no demons appeared. Perhaps fortune favored them, or perhaps the creatures simply avoided sunlight.
Eventually, they came upon a sheer cliff. At its side lay a wide, flat platform, like a hilltop cut clean. Shafts of golden sunlight poured through sparse branches, bathing the stone in light.
Yukishiro assessed it quickly. The cliff protected one side, the high ground gave vision, and the sunlight offered safety.
"We'll rest here. Night will be harder."
Mitsuri nodded at once, obedient.
Together, they climbed up a narrow crevice in the rock. Dust clung to their clothes, but neither cared. They leaned back against the cliff wall, sitting on the sun-warmed stone.
"Rest," Yukishiro muttered. "And stop chattering for once."
Flustered, she smoothed her hair, then said with unusual seriousness, "Yukishiro, you rest. I'll stand guard. If any demon comes, I'll stop it."
"No need."
Breathing gave him awareness beyond waking. Even in sleep, danger could not surprise him. He closed his eyes, sinking into meditation.
For a while, silence lingered. Mitsuri sat watching the forest, her round eyes vigilant. But now and then, she glanced sideways at him, her lips curving into a soft smile.
Time dragged.
Boredom gnawed at her.
Eventually, her small body leaned against his side, her head coming to rest gently across his lap. Within moments, her breathing grew steady—she had fallen asleep.
Yukishiro did not stir. His eyes remained closed, his mind attuned to the forest.
Deep within the woods, in a collapsed cavern, countless eyes flickered open.
They shone with bestial hunger, glowing faintly in the dark. The creatures stirred, restless, sniffing the air. Strange, guttural sounds—half growl, half moan—echoed through the hollow.
Yet, though hunger burned within them, another force pressed down. Invisible shackles bound them.
They clawed at the stone walls but did not dare leave.
Far below, halfway up the mountain, many candidates huddled together. Some drank from their canteens. Others stared anxiously at the sinking sun, as though their willpower alone could slow its descent.
But the sun only seemed to fall faster. In the blink of an eye, it dipped behind the treetops.
Shadows spread.
The forest grew thick with menace. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of branch sent shudders through the crowd. Three or four would flinch together, their nerves unraveling.
Kimura sat among them, his eyes hard. He sneered at the trembling masses. Why did they come here if they were this weak? They quake before night even falls. When the demons come, they'll soil themselves in terror.
Cowards like this would be dead weight. No one would waste strength to save them. Better they die quickly and buy time for the capable.
How many of them will become demon fodder tonight?
His gaze drifted toward the darkened forest, to the memory of a lone boy in white. Yukishiro.
Kimura regretted not drawing him into his group. From the very first meeting, there had been something unsettling about that youth. Something missing in his eyes.
Now Kimura understood what it was.
It was fear.