Ever since Yukishiro had declared that he would do nothing, Mitsuri sat quietly at his side, dragging a small branch over the earth in listless circles. Her little drawings vanished as quickly as they appeared, smudged out by her absentminded hands.
At this moment, she was unbearably bored. It would have been worse if she were alone, but at least Yukishiro was sitting beside her. The problem, however, was that this man never spoke. His face carried a perpetual chill, as if carved from stone, and the weight of his silence pressed on her like a heavy cloak.
She wanted to break it several times—start a conversation, even about something trivial—but every time she turned her head, her eyes met his cold, unapproachable expression. The words withered before they left her lips.
"If I say something silly, he'll only get annoyed with me," she thought, biting her lip. "He probably hates being disturbed."
Just then, a faint rustling sound stirred the woods below.
Mitsuri looked up, her eyes lighting with curiosity.
The shadows between the trees below were pitch-black, like the mouth of a cavern that might lead to another world. If something were to emerge from such a place, it could only come from there.
Sure enough, a rounded shape slid into view from the shade of the tree, gliding low, almost touching the ground.
The "thing" turned its head toward the stone platform where the two sat—and its gaze collided with Mitsuri's. For a split second, she froze, then the creature snapped back into the shadows, vanishing as if it had never been there.
"Yukishiro, there's something down there!" Mitsuri whispered sharply, pointing with one hand at the place where the thing had vanished, while tugging Yukishiro's sleeve with the other.
Yukishiro glanced down with his usual indifferent expression. "What?"
In truth, he had already sensed them. Two demons were prowling nearby—one hiding in the shadow of the tree, the other crouching behind a boulder beside it. They weren't powerful. If they had been, they would have attacked long ago, unable to resist their own bloodlust.
No, these were bottom-feeders, too weak to hunt confidently. They lurked in darkness, hesitant, like wild dogs afraid of a larger predator.
Mitsuri tilted her head, staring. "It looked like… a head? Lying flat on the ground. That's strange…"
Yukishiro's mouth twitched. "Congratulations. You've just spotted the first demon of the night. Consider it the first real trial of this assessment."
"D-Demon…?" Mitsuri's eyes widened, her voice trembling.
"Is it necessary to look that shocked?" Yukishiro muttered. "This is Fujikasane Mountain. Running into demons is normal. Not running into them would be abnormal. Haven't you ever seen a demon before?"
His sharp gaze flicked toward her face. The longer he looked, the more convinced he became that he had stumbled onto something unusual.
"She doesn't even look like she's fought a demon before," he thought, a strange amusement rising in his chest. "She eats constantly, carries no food, yet claims she'll survive. What sort of treasure did I pick up? She's like a mystery box—ridiculous, but full of surprises."
Mitsuri flushed under his stare, lowering her head. "I-I've seen one! Of course I've seen one. Demons are just… humans who turned into monsters, right? They should look human-like…"
Yukishiro snorted. "You're asking me? Thanks for the lecture."
Mitsuri's eyes darted nervously. "I-I'm not like other people. I'm… like you."
"…What?"
"I mean, I'm stupid like you," she corrected herself clumsily.
Yukishiro clicked his tongue and tapped her forehead lightly with his knuckles. "Stupid girl."
Mitsuri rubbed the spot, pouting, lips curling into a small, embarrassed pout. "You're making fun of me again."
"I'm just telling the truth." He picked up his Nichirin sword and shoved it into her hands. "Didn't you say you'd protect me? Here's your chance. Go down there and chop off its head. Prove your strength. Otherwise, all those meat and vegetable patties you ate were wasted."
The mention of food made her flinch. Her cheeks colored as she accepted the sword hesitantly. "Ch-chop its head off? But… I don't hold a grudge against it. Isn't that too cruel?"
"A demon dies only when its head is severed. If you don't kill it, it'll kill you. Didn't you join the Corps for food and survival? This is the job. Go on."
His flat tone left her no room to argue. Biting her lip, Mitsuri clutched the sword and, step by shaky step, descended from the stone platform.
The forest opened into a clearing, moonlight spilling silver over the earth. Yukishiro's gaze followed her, his face unreadable.
He raised one hand lazily, waving her onward.
From the shadows, a skinny demon slithered out.
It was small, gaunt—its skin stretched tightly over bones as if it hadn't eaten in weeks. Its bald head gleamed in the moonlight, and its wide mouth revealed jagged teeth. A strange guttural
"woooo" rumbled from its throat.
Mitsuri's eyes went wide with horror. "This… this is a Demon? But… It looks nothing like a human. Why is it so terrifying?"
Her knees trembled. She drew the Nichirin sword with a shaky hand, raising it in front of her chest like a flimsy shield. "D-Don't come near me!"
The demon's head tilted. It sniffed the air, its mouth curling into a grotesque grin. Fear radiated from her like heat, and it sensed it, savoring it.
Yukishiro, watching from above, muttered to himself.
"Fear makes you weak. Even animals can smell it. She's practically inviting it to attack."
The demon lunged, crawling low across the ground like a hunting beast. In the blink of an eye, it closed the distance to less than a meter, claws outstretched.
Mitsuri screamed, shutting her eyes tight. "Don't come closer! I'll… I'll hurt you!"
Yukishiro's hand slid to his sword. He pushed the hilt with his thumb, exposing an inch of the blade. Frosty mist seeped from the steel, a pale white glow curling around it. He was ready to move—
But then, a voice rang out from below.
"Breath of Love… Fifth Form—Swaying Love, Wild Claws!"
Yukishiro froze. His eyes narrowed. "What did she just say? Breath… of Love? Since when was there such a form?"
Down below, Mitsuri's body moved on its own. Her wrists whipped the sword wildly, and to Yukishiro's astonishment, the blade that should have been rigid softened. The Nichirin sword bent and undulated like a whip, its steel body shimmering like a ribbon under the moonlight.
The weapon slashed the air in a flurry—slashes, thrusts, sweeps, cuts, all woven together in a chaotic yet strangely fluid net.
The movements resembled the frenzied swipes of a cat's claws, unpredictable and impossible to track.
The demon leapt straight into the storm. Its body was shredded instantly—shoulder, chest, arms, every part sliced open as the whip-blade lashed it again and again. Blood spattered the earth in sharp arcs, and its scream tore the night apart.
Yukishiro's brows rose slightly. "That move… it's defensive and offensive at once. Even I wouldn't rush into that net recklessly. For someone who claims to have never seen a demon… this girl hides a lot."
The demon, bleeding profusely, staggered back. Wounds covered its chest and arms, flesh hanging in strips. It howled pitifully, then turned tail, dragging its mangled body into the trees. The sound of its wails echoed long after it vanished into the dark.
Mitsuri lowered the sword slowly, her chest heaving. She blinked at her trembling hands in disbelief. "I… I actually did that?"
Up on the stone platform, Yukishiro sheathed his own sword again. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Breath of Love… huh. Looks like this assessment won't be as boring as I thought."