The cool morning wind swept through the open windows, tugging at the edges of Willow's Kimono. She stood with her pack on her shoulders and her mask in her hand, breathing deeply. The air was crisp with early spring, but it smelled faintly of damp soil and wet trees outside.
She glanced back into the house one last time.
Kokushibo lay there, unmoving, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly. Two years. Two long years. He hadn't woken once… and yet his breathing, his presence, still comforted her like calm waves out in the ocean.
She crouched down and placed the folded letter beside him, weighted gently with a small stone.
Dad,
It's been two years since you have been awake. So much has happened. I have trained hard, discovered new techniques, and grown stronger. I'm going to the Final Selection soon. I hope you will be awake when I return.
— Your loving daughter, Willow
She stood, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Stay safe. Please… wait for me."
And then, with a final glance over her shoulder, she left.
Four Days Until Final Selection
The road was long, cutting through mountain paths, bamboo forests, and quiet streams that mirrored the orange of the setting sun. Willow moved quickly but with grace, each step calculated, each breath purposeful. Her body no longer ached as it once had. Her stamina had grown. Her speed, too. The system's stat screen confirmed it every time she checked: Attack, Defense, Speed, Stamina, Intelligence, and even Charisma had seen noticeable growth.
Only Wisdom remained low.
She supposed that made sense. She was only nineteen, after all—again.
As the trees grew denser, she found her mind drifting. Reflecting on her two years of training.
Sun Breathing, no matter how hard she tried, it had always eluded her. She studied the motions, practiced for hours until her lungs burned, but it was like trying to mimic a language she only half understood.
And then an idea struck.
A breathing style not rooted in one element—but many. A fusion. A reflection of how dragons, in myth, commanded fire, thunder, wind, and more. Dragons were beings of balance and fury. So she built a style in their honor.
Dragon Breathing.
It was as fluid as water, as fierce as flame. It twisted through the skies like wind, crashed down like stone, and left behind nothing but ash and awe.
Each form had come to her with time, inspiration, and painful trial:
Fiery Breath, burning blue and devastating. (Flame)
Razor Wind, so fast it cut the air itself. (Wind)
Flying Crash, a deadly leap from above. (Stone)
Dragon's Blood, a venom-laced strike. (Insect)
Peaceful Heaven, a graceful mercy. (Water)
Mighty Roar, speed in a powerful roar. (Thunder)
Piercing Glare, a chilling presence to demons all around. (Mist)
Sharp Claws, unpredictable and wild. (Love)
Flowering Snapdragon, twisting like vines of death. (Flower)
Dragon's Song, haunting rhythm and terrifying sound. (Sound)
Last Shadow, a blur of darkness. (Moon)
Dragon's Inferno, her closest attempt to Sun Breathing. (Sun)
And finally, Keen Senses, drawing from the Beast form, enabling her to track demons and people by their aura.
The second most powerful style.
Because Sun Breathing was still the first.
But even if she couldn't replicate it... maybe she could forge something just as worthy.
The air had changed. She could smell Wisteria before she saw it—strong, almost nauseating, like perfume poured too thick. Her nose twitched.
"ACHOO!"
She groaned. "Ugh, seriously?! I thought I'd be immune to Wisteria! This is just as bad as my seasonal allergies from back in my past life..."
Still sniffling, Willow trudged up the stone steps, carefully avoiding the hanging Wisteria. Her mask was clipped to her belt, and her bracelet jingled softly with each step.
She had arrived.
The Final Selection gates loomed ahead, guarded by towering Wisteria trees, their petals casting everything in a dreamy violet hue. The others were already gathering, dozens of hopefuls in plain training yukatas, silent and tense.
Willow opened her stats one last time. The improvements were real. The system's numbers confirmed it.
Then her eyes drifted across the gathered trainees, and her breath caught.
Tanjiro.
With his kind eyes and hanafuda earrings, just as she remembered.
Zenitsu, shaking visibly as he clutched his sword.
Kanao, quiet, reserved, her dark lilac eyes calm and unreadable.
And Genya, arms crossed, brows furrowed, radiating annoyance.
She looked around, half expecting to see Inosuke charging in shirtless and yelling, but she couldn't find him in the crowd
That was okay. Their stories were untouched.
Willow's fingers curled around the hilt of her basic nichirin katana. The warmth of determination burned in her chest, stronger than the sting of Wisteria in her nose.
"Greetings everyone." Kiriya started to say. "Thank you all for joining The Final Selection tonight."
"Because from the mountain foot to half way up," Kanata says, both speaking back and forth.
"There are a lot of demons held captive on this mountain brought back by demon killing swordsmen. They are unable to leave."
"There are a lot of demon repelling Wisteria that bloom all year round."
"However, From here on out, there are no more wisteria. Only Demons. If you can survive here for 7 days,"
"Then you pass the Final Selection. Now let the Final Selection begin."
Willow puts on her mask and starts to sprint to the east knowing the sun will rise from there first.
" We're up, we're off, and away we go~ " Willow sang to herself.
This was it. No more simulations. No more training dummies. These demons were real, and they would kill without hesitation.
The participants—some nervous, others cocky—rushed in like a flood. Willow moved at her own pace, calm and measured. Her mask was now secured over her face, hiding her identity, but she could feel her blood stir beneath her skin.
"This is real. This is what all the training was for."
The first few hours were quiet. Willow avoided the main paths, using her keen senses. Occasionally, she'd hear distant screams, or the clash of steel and the monstrous howls of demons. She didn't run toward them. Not yet.
She needed to pace herself.
That was when she found her first demon.
It was crouched over a corpse, long arms and jagged teeth soaked with fresh blood. Its serpentine tongue slithered out and wrapped around the fallen boy's face like a trophy.
Willow's eyes narrowed behind her mask. Her hand dropped to her katana.
"Time to see if I'm really ready."
She stepped forward. "You. Get away from him."
The demon's head snapped up, eyes glowing yellow. "Oooh, another snack! A masked one! I love surprises!"
It lunged at her.
Willow exhaled and slid into her stance.
"Dragon Breathing: First Form – Fiery Breath!"
She slashed upward, her blade glowing a ghostly blue as it ignited with scorching flame. The demon's body twisted in mid-air, trying to dodge, but it was too late.
The blade sliced straight through its arm and chest, and a trail of blue fire crackled across its wound, charring the edges. The demon screeched, staggering back.
It tried to regenerate—but the flame wouldn't allow it. The blue fire sizzled like acid, and its body twitched and spasmed in agony.
"You… damn brat!!"
It charged again in a frenzy. Willow's eyes focused.
"Sixth Form – Mighty Roar!"
She dashed forward at blinding speed, her katana roaring through the air like a beast awakened. The sound that followed echoed across the forest like the howl of a dragon. Her blade struck the demon in the gut and blasted it back with sheer force, slamming it into a tree. The impact shook the leaves loose like rain.
The demon was still conscious, barely, half its face destroyed.
It tried to beg.
She raised her sword, and in one fell swoop she cut the demon's head off.
The demon's body went limp mid-motion and then crumbled into dust.
Willow stood still, panting lightly.
" Two forms in one fight. That burned some of my stamina… " She checked her system screen. Her stats had dropped slightly from the rapid exertion, but her Blood Demon Art points had ticked up.
She knelt beside the fallen demon slayer.
Too late.
She whispered a silent prayer and gently closed his eyes.
Three Days Later
By now, her name, though unknown to the others, had begun to ripple through whispers.
"Masked girl with the weird breathing style."
"She fights almost like a Hashira… but different."
Some kept their distance. Others were awed. None dared approach her.
She had killed over a dozen demons, a few almost strong enough to rival her. Her blend of speed, raw power, and strategic movement made her unpredictable. But it wasn't easy. Her stamina was running low. Her wounds had begun to stack—nothing serious, but her regeneration was slow.
On the sixth night, it happened.
A massive demon—eight feet tall, armored with bone plating, and bearing a third eye on its forehead—descended from the trees.
"YOU… You reek of a demon. Who—what—are you?!"
Willow stood her ground, breath shaky. Her katana trembled in her grip.
The demon charged.
"Fourth Form – Dragon's Blood!"
She sliced her left hand and coated her blade in her own blood. As the demon's claw swiped toward her, she rolled under it and slashed its leg. The acid like blood hissed into the wound, causing it to stagger.
"AAAAARGHHH! What did you do to me?!"
"Ninth Form – Flowering Snapdragon!"
Her blade spun in a circular upward arc, twisting like a spiraling vine, and came down with a fierce snap. The demon's arm flew into the air.
It shrieked again.
Willow didn't stop.
"Twelfth Form – Dragon's Inferno!"
She roared as her sword exploded with blazing heat, brighter and more violent than ever before. The fire formed a wide arc, engulfing the demon's torso, disintegrating the third eye completely.
The forest shook.
When it was over, the demon's ashes scattered into the wind.
Willow collapsed to her knees, panting heavily, smoke rising from her blade. She had burned through nearly every ounce of stamina she had left.
But she was alive.
The sun shone gently through the Wisteria as the final group of survivors stood quietly before the twin guides.
There were only five left. Six knowing that Inosuke had passed and probably already left.
Tanjiro. Kanao. Genya. Zenitsu.
And her.
The masked girl in a Purple kimono, her bracelet gleaming faintly in the sun.
Willow watched as the Kasugai crows descended; Willow actually gave the crow her bracelet to wear around its neck. Then ores were chosen, and uniform measurements were taken.
She said her name clearly "Willow Tsugikuni" when asked.
She saw Tanjiro glance toward her, eyes curious but warm.
She nodded once.
He smiled.
The canon timeline had truly begun.
And so had her story.