Akino and Yuka were locked in a desperate struggle with the Demon before them, blades clashing wildly, when a strange cry rose from behind. The hair on their necks stood on end. They turned in horror—three Demons had forced Mitsuri back and were now barreling straight for them.
Their blood ran cold.
Fear shook their arms, and panic broke their rhythm. Their sword strokes, once measured if clumsy, now slashed about chaotically. The Demon before them pressed harder, forcing them to stumble backward.
But each retreat closed the distance between them and the three Demons charging from behind.
They were being herded into a slaughter.
For a heartbeat, hopelessness overtook them. Then, from behind, came a voice—bright and clear, like a silver bell ringing in the night.
Mitsuri.
A gust of wind surged past as she leapt forward, pink light arcing. Akino and Yuka clung to that sound, desperate for a miracle.
She had saved them before. She could do it again—
But this time, her strike was not enough.
Her whip-like Nichirin Blade slashed, severing the legs of two Demons. Flesh burst, ichor spraying, but their momentum carried them onward. Their claws still raked the earth as they lunged, undeterred.
Akino's heart sank.
So did Yuka's.
But then they felt something stranger still—Mitsuri was rushing toward them. Not away, not circling back, but directly at them.
The realization hit.
"She's… she's trying to shield us."
A storm of emotion welled in their chests. This timid, awkward girl—the same one mocked in the square, her head bowed under whispers of inferiority—was throwing herself in front of strangers she had just met.
What kind of heart chooses to repay cruelty with kindness?
Yuka's eyes blurred with tears. "You… you silly girl." She shoved Mitsuri with trembling arms.
"Don't! Don't bother with us. We were blind earlier… so blind. I—I heard your name in the square. Kanroji Mitsuri, right? Mitsuri, I'm glad I met you. But please—go! Save yourself!"
Mitsuri's eyes widened. "You know my name?" Her lips curved into a sudden, radiant smile.
"Hehe… then it'll be okay. Someone will save us."
Her optimism was absurd, almost childish.
Akino's jaw clenched. He twisted his head, eyes narrowing at the boy who still stood on the distant stone platform. Yukishiro. Motionless. Cold. Watching.
"Save us? Him?" Akino spat inwardly. If Yukishiro truly meant to help, he would have already. Why wait until now, when death was inches away? And even if he moved—how could one person possibly save three of them from four Demons at once?
The Demons' claws closed in.
And then—
"Ice Breathing, Sixth Form—Phantom."
Akino's breath caught. The boy vanished. No step, no sound—simply gone.
In the blink of an eye, a white-clad figure stood before them. Cold washed over the clearing like a winter gale. The temperature plummeted, chilling their bones, frosting their breath. Akino, Yuka, and Mitsuri shivered where they crouched, teeth nearly chattering.
Shing—
The clean ring of a blade returning to its scabbard. Then, a heavy thud.
Something round rolled across the dirt, bumping against Yuka's sandal. She looked down—and screamed.
A Demon's head. Its bulging eyes stared lifelessly, jaw frozen in a half-snarl. Yuka kicked it away instinctively, gagging. Frost bloomed across the severed neck, delicate white ice flowers spreading outward as a cold mist coiled upward.
The headless corpse writhed on the ground for only a moment before convulsing and stilled.
Akino spun.
Behind them, the other three Demons had suffered the same fate. Their heads lay neatly severed, their bodies crumbling. One by one they dissolved into powder, the icy air scattering their ashes into nothing.
All four Demons—gone.
With a single move.
Akino's throat tightened. He looked at Yuka, who looked back in equal shock.
Their swords hung limp at their sides.
Moments earlier, the three of them had fought desperately for their lives, three against four, barely managing a stalemate.
And this boy—this aloof, indifferent youth—had slain them all in an instant. They hadn't even seen him move.
How strong is he?
The Demon Slayer Corps… was this the power of the true elites?
Akino's stomach twisted with shame. Hours ago he had cursed this boy. Ridiculed him. Yet now…
"See? I told you someone would save us."
Mitsuri beamed, puffing out her cheeks as if showing off. She lifted her chin toward the white figure at her side.
"Yukishiro, I knew you wouldn't just stand by."
Her joy faltered the moment Yukishiro turned his gaze upon her. His cold eyes cut like steel.
Mitsuri squeaked, stuck her tongue out in embarrassment, and lowered her head, silent.
Akino and Yuka forced awkward smiles. Truly, appearances deceive.
The timid girl who could barely speak aloud wielded frightening power. The boy who looked as if he cared for nothing shielded them all with impossible strength. Fate had bound these two strange souls together.
Perhaps weirdness is called weirdness.
"…Thank you," Yuka whispered, forcing courage to meet Yukishiro's eyes.
He said nothing. Only glared once more at Mitsuri, then turned away, climbing back to the stone platform.
The crushing weight of his presence, that suffocating chill, faded with his departure.
Mitsuri's gaze followed him, lingering until he was gone. Only then did she exhale softly. Smiling, she hurried to help Akino and Yuka to their feet. "Are you two alright?"
They shook their heads in unison.
"It's fine," Yuka managed. "Thank you. If not for you earlier, we'd… we'd already…" She shuddered, remembering claws inches from her throat.
Mitsuri waved her hands rapidly. "No, no! I almost got you hurt. He's the one who saved you." She scratched her cheek in embarrassment.
"Still… you were the first to stand in front of us." Yuka softened, voice warming. "I'm Yuka. This is Akino. We're here for the Demon Slayer Corps' final selection."
Her words stunned Mitsuri.
She hesitated, fumbling for words. "I… I'm—"
But Yuka interrupted with a grin. "Kanroji Mitsuri, right?"
Mitsuri blinked, then nodded shyly. It was the first time anyone had spoken her name with such warmth.
"I heard you in the square," Yuka said brightly. "Kanroji Mitsuri. A beautiful name."
"…Thank you." Mitsuri's cheeks flushed.
Yuka glanced toward Yukishiro, leaning against the stone wall above. She wanted to thank him too, but his distant expression froze her tongue. In the end, she only looked back to Mitsuri.
Mitsuri laughed, her voice like spring bells. "Don't mind him. He looks scary, but he's actually really kind. Spend a little time with him and you'll see."
Yuka tilted her head.
You're probably the only one in the world who'd say that.
The three sat together on smooth stones nearby, catching their breath.
"So," Mitsuri asked softly, "why are you two here?"
Akino and Yuka exchanged a glance. Then, slowly, they recounted everything—from the night they left the mountainside, to Kimura's team falling apart, to the Demons that had hounded them since. They told of the bouncing Demon that came without sound, of the spider Demon that stalked from above, of the three-eyed Demon that pursued with merciless speed.
Their voices were low, weary. The tale of a team crumbling under fear and blood.
And Mitsuri listened, wide-eyed, the night around them heavy with silence.