"You all managed to escape… but what about the others?"
Mitsuri's voice trembled as she asked, though she already sensed the answer.
"I don't know," Yuka replied. Her lips were pale, her shoulders quivering. "Ever since that demon appeared—the one that jumped more than ten meters high—people collapsed everywhere. None of our defenses worked. And then…" Her voice cracked, her eyes wide with remembered terror. "Then a giant meatball appeared… three, maybe four meters tall."
Her words faltered, but Akino beside her filled the silence. His expression was tight, his jaw set, but fear lingered in his eyes too.
Yuka clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "Can you even imagine it? A massive, rolling ball of flesh, taller than a house. But that's not the worst part—it had six arms, and three heads.
No… two heads, and one face on its chest. During training, they told us the only way to kill a demon was to cut off its head with a Nichirin Blade. But how do you kill something like that? If you cut off the two heads, what about the face on its body? Is it just a face? Or is the real head buried inside?"
Her breathing grew erratic. Her words tumbled over themselves, louder, faster, desperate. Tears welled in her eyes. "How? How do you fight something like that?"
Her voice broke completely, and for a moment, all three of them sat in silence, the weight of her fear pressing down like suffocating air.
Mitsuri reached over, gently clasping Yuka's icy hands. "It's okay," she whispered. "You're safe now." She didn't know if the words were true, but Yuka needed them.
But Yuka wasn't finished. Her words poured out in a rush, unstoppable. "Everyone's eyes were on that giant thing, and no one noticed another demon creeping in. That one was worse. It looked like a spider—six legs, two arms. It used the distraction to slip through our defenses. Then it grabbed one of the girls by the neck…" Yuka swallowed hard, her whole body trembling.
"It twisted her head off like breaking a twig."
Her voice collapsed into sobs, raw and broken. "And then everyone panicked. They swung their blades wildly, cutting at shadows. So many didn't die from the demons—they fell to each other's blades. There were screams, blood… everywhere…" She covered her face with her hands, finally breaking down into bitter weeping.
Akino lowered his head. He was trembling too, though he tried hard to keep it inside, to hold on to some fragment of composure. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.
Mitsuri wrapped her arms around Yuka, letting her cry into her shoulder. She looked over toward Yukishiro on the stone platform, unsure if he had heard. She suspected he had.
And in that moment, she felt a pang of gratitude. If Kimura had dragged her along with the others back at the square, she might have faced the same fate. She could see herself even now—curled up in a corner like Yuka, shivering, weeping, waiting for death.
Yukishiro's words came back to her. He had warned her: with so many gathered together, fear spread like fire. One person's panic infected the group, turning a defensive line into chaos. Numbers didn't always mean strength. Sometimes, they meant disaster.
The exam lasts seven days… and this was only the first night.
Mitsuri's stomach twisted. She hadn't imagined it would be this brutal.
After a long while, Yuka's sobs quieted. She sniffled, rubbed at her swollen eyes, and managed a faint smile of thanks. She pulled Mitsuri down beside her, clinging to her hand as though for strength.
"Mitsuri," she asked softly, "what about you? What happened to you tonight?"
So Mitsuri recounted her ordeal—how she had trailed Yukishiro stubbornly, how she had eaten all his cakes, and how he had saved her from the demon that could leap sky-high.
Yuka's eyes widened. "You mean… that demon tried to kill you, and he blocked it for you? He scared it away?"
She clapped her hands over her mouth, stunned. Akino, equally shocked, turned toward the stone platform.
That demon was no ordinary threat. Everyone knew it—the leaping demon that could vanish into the treetops without a sound, appearing and disappearing like a phantom.
Two women had been snatched straight from the ground by it, gone before anyone could scream.
Mitsuri nodded. "Yes. It dropped down from above. If Yukishiro hadn't pierced its hand with Cold Weep, I'd be dead now. It escaped toward that ridge." She pointed across the dark mountain slope.
Akino and Yuka exchanged a look. That was where their group had been stationed. The creature had fled straight toward them.
Their stomachs sank, but relief crept in as well. They realized something at the same time: if they stuck close to Mitsuri and Yukishiro, their odds of surviving this nightmare might increase.
Mitsuri seemed approachable, easy to talk to. But Yukishiro… he was another matter. Aloof, dangerous, impossible to read. Winning his approval would not be easy.
"What are your plans next?" Mitsuri asked, her voice hesitant.
The question spared them from fumbling to ask first. Yuka glanced at Akino, then back at Mitsuri.
She squeezed her hand, her voice pleading. "Mitsuri, can we… can we follow you? Please? You saw it yourself. This mountain is crawling with demons. Akino and I are injured. If we go out alone, we'll be eaten. Please let us stay."
Mitsuri's heart softened instantly, but her eyes flickered toward the stone platform. Yukishiro stood there like a shadow, silent and cold.
Fear pricked her chest.
She pulled her hand free, lowering her gaze. Her voice came out small. "I… I can't promise you that. You saw it earlier—I can't even protect myself.
Without Yukishiro, I'd have died twice already. How can I promise to protect you?"
Her words stung, but Akino and Yuka understood. They hadn't asked because they believed in Mitsuri's strength—they had hoped she could sway Yukishiro. It was clear to both of them that he treated her differently.
Yuka bit her lip. "Then… can you ask him for us? Just… beg him?"
Mitsuri's eyes widened in horror. Beg Yukishiro? She could already imagine it: his icy stare cutting her down, freezing her in place like a statue.
But Yuka clutched her hands again, desperate. "Please, Mitsuri. You saw our injuries. If we step outside, we'll die. If you let that happen… then what was the point of saving us earlier?"
The words pierced deep. Mitsuri had dragged them back from death. To abandon them now would make that meaningless.
She would hate herself for it forever.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry. Human lives were heavier than fear.
"Alright," she whispered at last. "I'll try. But… if it fails, I can't help that."
Her steps toward the stone platform felt like walking toward her own execution. Every inch closer tightened the knot in her chest.
Yukishiro was already seething. He had bent once tonight, showing mercy in battle, and it gnawed at him. For Mitsuri to approach him now—at this moment—was like banging her head against a wall. But she had no choice. She had to try.