Month: Early Summer
Year: Meiji Era
Age: Akira – 16 years old | Mitsuri – 16 years old
Location: Fujikasane Mountain | Kanroji estate, forest training grounds
---
Akira
Fujikasane Mountain
The mountain smelled wrong.
Wisteria hung thick in the air, sweet enough to sting the lungs, masking rot and old blood beneath it. The path upward was crowded — boys and girls standing too straight, gripping swords too tightly, breath uneven.
Akira stood among them.
Still.
Total Concentration: Constant flowed without effort, heat circulating evenly beneath his skin. His heart rate was low. His posture relaxed. He did not look at the others for long.
Great Sage observed calmly.
Threat density: high.
Survival probability: acceptable.
Recommendation: proceed as planned.
The demon slayer with scars across his face spoke the rules.
Seven nights.
Survive.
Kill if necessary.
Akira bowed once.
Night fell.
---
The first demon came quickly.
It rushed him from the trees, malformed and loud, claws scraping stone. Akira sidestepped — no wasted motion — and drew.
Hinokami Kagura —
Clear Blue Sky.
The blade passed cleanly.
The body fell.
Akira did not pause to watch it vanish.
He moved.
---
He did not hunt recklessly.
He moved toward sound, toward imbalance in the air, toward places where fear gathered. When he found demons, he ended them quickly. When he found humans, he guided them away — briefly, efficiently.
No speeches.
No reassurance beyond action.
Great Sage adjusted quietly.
Kill count increasing.
Fatigue negligible.
Breathing optimal.
By the third night, the mountain felt thinner.
---
A larger demon emerged near dawn — fused flesh, multiple mouths, eyes rolling with hunger and rage. It screamed when it saw him.
Akira did not answer.
Hinokami Kagura —
Raging Sun
→ Burning Bones, Summer Sun
→ Fake Rainbow
The demon swung wildly. Akira passed through its reach like heat through smoke.
Sunflower Thrust ended it.
The mountain fell silent again.
---
By the seventh night, Akira stood beneath the wisteria.
Unwounded.
Breathing unchanged.
Around him, fewer figures remained.
When dawn broke, he did not feel relief.
Only completion.
Great Sage finalized its assessment.
Final Selection: passed.
Status: Demon Slayer confirmed.
Akira bowed once more.
And turned his thoughts homeward.
---
Mitsuri
Kanroji Estate
Mitsuri trained harder than she ever had.
Not because she was angry.
Because something felt missing.
Her breath stayed steady, but the world felt… stretched. As if a thread had been pulled tight somewhere she couldn't see.
Love Breathing —
Shivers of First Love
→ Love Pangs
→ Catlove Shower
Her blade cracked through the air, flexible and precise. Sweat darkened her uniform, but she didn't slow.
Still — it wasn't enough.
She stopped abruptly.
"…Why do I feel like this?" she muttered.
---
Later that day, she overheard voices near the village road.
"…another Final Selection ended last night."
"…Demon Slayers, right?"
"…Kids too young, if you ask me."
Mitsuri froze.
Final Selection.
Something clicked.
Her chest tightened — not panic, but clarity sharp enough to hurt.
"…Akira," she whispered.
---
She didn't cry.
She didn't shout.
She went to her room and sat down, breathing carefully.
Total Concentration: Constant did not falter.
It just… understood.
"That's why," she said softly. "That's where you went."
The distance had a name now.
Demon Slayer Corps.
Night.
Death.
A path she had felt approaching without seeing.
Her fingers curled in her sleeve.
"…You idiot," she murmured — fond, worried, proud all at once.
---
That evening, she trained again.
Not harder.
Clearer.
Her breath deepened. Her movements sharpened. Her heart steadied.
"If you're walking that path," she said quietly to the empty forest,
"Then I won't stay behind forever."
The wind carried her words away.
---
Somewhere beyond the mountain —
Akira breathed steadily.
And for the first time since leaving,
He felt the faint pull of someone matching his step —
Even from afar.
---