The night was cold, like still water.
On the summit of Mount Fujikasane, most of the swordsmen participating in the Final Selection were already fleeing in panic. Even the weakest demons—starved for an entire year and weakened further by the scent of wisteria—were far from easy to deal with.
Ordinary swordsmen could only hope to stand against them while maintaining their Breathing Styles.
But for most, that state didn't last long.
And if they failed to finish the fight before their breathing faltered… the outcome was inevitable.
They would be devoured.
Some, still clear-headed enough to recognize their limits, chose to retreat before it was too late. As long as they left the summit and returned to the wisteria-filled boundary below, they could survive.
But not everyone remained rational.
Some overestimated themselves.
Some were caught in accidents while trying to escape.
Others encountered demons far stronger than expected.
And so, throughout the night, the summit of Mount Fujikasane echoed with desperate screams and the sounds of death.
This was what it meant to hunt demons.
Once you stepped onto this path, death was never far behind.
…
"Thunder Breathing… Second Form: Rice Spirit."
With a low murmur, a blade of dark gold flashed through the air, unleashing five lightning-fast strikes in an instant.
A lunging demon suddenly froze mid-motion.
Then—
Black-haired, blue-eyed, with thick brows and a magatama pendant resting against his chest, Kaigaku calmly sheathed his blade.
The moment the sword slid back into its scabbard, the demon's body collapsed heavily to the ground.
Kaigaku glanced at the fallen corpse, his brows lifting slightly, while several swordsmen who had been following him hurried forward.
"Kaigaku-senpai, that was incredible!"
"As expected of a disciple of a Hashira—you're unbelievably strong!"
Their voices were filled with admiration and flattery.
"It was nothing special," Kaigaku replied evenly. "You'll all reach this level eventually."
Though his tone remained calm, his eyes flickered with satisfaction—especially when he noticed the lone female swordsman among them looking at him with undisguised admiration.
He had always believed that no matter how difficult the path, as long as one survived, things would eventually change.
And now, his efforts were finally beginning to bear fruit.
One day, he would become a Hashira—someone respected and envied throughout the Demon Slayer Corps.
Once, he had been nothing more than a homeless orphan.
Back then, surviving sometimes meant drinking muddy water just to stay alive.
Even after being taken in by a temple, he was still cast aside—ostracized by the other orphans. One night, they drove him out entirely. That night, he had nearly been devoured by a demon.
So he made a choice.
To save his own life, he betrayed them.
He extinguished the wisteria incense that protected the temple, inviting the demon inside. While it feasted on the others, he slipped away and survived.
From that moment on, he understood one truth:
Only strength could change everything.
Only strength could keep him from being trampled on ever again.
When he learned that there were powerful swordsmen living at Mount Momoyama, he went without hesitation and became a disciple of Jigoro Kuwajima.
Under his teacher's guidance, he trained tirelessly, earning recognition and pride. Yet one regret remained—
Even now, he still hadn't mastered Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash.
And the thought of Zenitsu Agatsuma—that sniveling coward who cried at every turn—being able to use the First Form…
Worse, that their teacher treated that useless weakling with the same care as him…
Just thinking about it filled Kaigaku with resentment.
Thump... Thump...
The ground began to tremble.
Trees in the distance toppled with crashing force.
Kaigaku snapped out of his thoughts and looked up.
A massive demon burst forth from beneath the earth, its enormous body tearing through the forest as it rose. Before nearby swordsmen could even react, its writhing arms lashed out—
Several were seized and devoured in an instant.
Kaigaku's pupils shrank.
A monster like that… was far beyond anything he could handle.
The Hand Demon, having already swallowed three victims, slowly turned its gaze toward Kaigaku's group.
"Kaigaku-senpai… what do we do?" One of the swordsmen gripped his blade tightly, his entire body trembling.
"S-senpai…"
The only female swordsman edged closer to Kaigaku, fear plainly written in her eyes.
Thump... Thump...
The ground quaked violently as the enormous Hand Demon—towering like a house—charged toward them, its massive form crushing trees beneath its weight.
"How… how can there be a demon this strong…?"
Kaigaku muttered under his breath, but when he noticed everyone turning to look at him, he forced a smile.
"Don't be afraid. Everyone, charge together! Leave the rest to me."
Though terror gripped their hearts, his words gave them just enough courage to act. Tightening their grips on their weapons, they rushed forward toward the demon.
The Hand Demon suddenly halted.
In the next instant, countless writhing arms shot outward.
Some of the charging swordsmen were struck down instantly, smashed into the ground before they could react. Others were seized, lifted helplessly into the air, and fed directly into its gaping mouth.
A few managed to leap high with their Nichirin Swords, aiming for its neck—only to see sparks burst on impact.
The blade couldn't cut through.
The demon's neck was too hard.
Despair spread instantly among them.
Instinctively, they looked toward Kaigaku, clinging to the last shred of hope that he would step in.
But he never came.
When they turned back—
All they saw was his retreating figure, already distant, already gone.
"No…!"
Their cries, filled with rage, terror, and disbelief, were quickly swallowed along with them, as the demon's arms wrapped around them and dragged them into its maw.
The massive demon was about to give chase, but as it lifted its head, something in the distance caught its attention.
Hanging from a treetop was a fox mask with closed eyes.
At once, the Hand Demon stopped.
"They've come again… that man has sent more disciples."
Its long tongue slid out, licking its lips greedily as a grotesque chuckle escaped its throat.
"More little foxes… just in time for dessert."
"Urokodaki… Urokodaki… I'm going to eat your disciples again. Tell me, when another one fails to return, how much pain will you feel this time?"
"I really want to see your face when you hear the news…"
"Keh… keh… keh…"
The demon's laughter was low and cruel, its eyes gleaming with vicious delight. It had been trapped in this prison for many years—all because of Urokodaki.
And so, this was its revenge.
One by one, it devoured his beloved students, savoring their despair, relishing their suffering as they died.
…
A campfire burned steadily, illuminating the surrounding darkness.
The wind stirred, causing the flames to flicker, but it could not disperse the foul stench lingering in the air.
That stench came from dead demons.
It was proof of just how many had already been slain in this area.
Another demon, drawn by the scent of prey, had its limbs severed before it could react—and in its confusion and unwillingness, its head was cleanly cut off by Soma.
Physique +0.1
Strength +0.1
Agility +0.1
Mental Strength +0.1
The surge of power within him made his eyes shine brighter, the hidden crimson beneath their darkness growing deeper, more intense.
Makomo landed lightly beside him, her toes touching the ground without a sound.
She looked at him, her eyes filled with faint confusion.
For some reason… the feeling he gave her was becoming increasingly dangerous.
Sensing her gaze, Soma turned his head.
His dark eyes, tinged with a deep, concealed crimson, met hers directly.
Their gazes collided in midair.
Makomo, being a girl after all, was the first to falter. She quickly turned her head away, a faint blush rising to her cheeks as she subconsciously lifted a hand to smooth the nonexistent stray strands of hair at her forehead.
"Up until now, no demon has shown any interest in that mask," she said, trying to steady herself. "Does a demon that specifically hunts our sensei's disciples really exist here?"
"Who knows?"
Soma tilted his head slightly, looking up at the fox mask swaying gently in the air. Deep down, he already knew—given the Hand Demon's obsession with Urokodaki's disciples, the moment it saw that mask…
it would come.
Rumble…
The ground began to shake again.
In the distance, the sound of trees snapping echoed through the night.
Makomo's hand instinctively moved to the hilt of her sword.
Soma also lifted his gaze toward the source of the disturbance—
and saw it.
The massive figure of the Hand Demon.
A demon that possessed a Blood Demon Art.
If he could devour it… his strength would undoubtedly rise even further.
"How… how could a demon this powerful exist here?"
Staring at the massive figure of the Hand Demon in the distance, Makomo's lips parted slightly in shock. A creature like that had no place on this mountain.
"I can smell it… I can smell the scent of Urokodaki's disciples."
As it ran forward, its enormous body crushing trees beneath its weight, the Hand Demon muttered to itself, its voice carrying clearly through the night.
"How exciting… I just hope this one isn't as troublesome as that peach-haired boy from last time. I wonder what Urokodaki's disciple will taste like this time… though that last one was truly delicious. Such firm muscles… ah, that flavor still lingers in my memory…"
Its rambling words drifted through the air—
—and reached Makomo's ears.
Her teeth clenched tightly.
"So it was you… you're the one who killed Sabito."
"Unforgivable."
Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword, her beautiful eyes trembling with pain—yet filled with a chilling, overwhelming killing intent.
Before long, the Hand Demon closed the distance. One of its tendrils lashed out, snatching the fox mask hanging from the treetop and pulling it before its face.
"This… this is the scent of Urokodaki's disciples…"
It murmured softly, then frowned.
"Why is there only a mask? Don't tell me another demon got to them first. How pathetic… Urokodaki, how could your disciples be this useless?"
"Why weren't they eaten by me? They're supposed to be mine!"
Its voice rose into an enraged roar—until its attention shifted.
It noticed them.
Noticed Makomo, standing there with killing intent written all over her face.
"Hey… have you seen the one who wore this mask? Have you seen them?"
One tendril lifted the fox mask, waving it toward Soma and the others as it questioned them.
But then, its head tilted slightly, curiosity creeping into its expression.
"Strange… everyone else trembles in fear when they see me. Just now, there was a black-haired, blue-eyed one who abandoned his companions and ran for his life…"
"So why aren't you afraid?"
"Or… are you so scared you can't even move?"
Its gaze landed on Makomo, and it let out an amused chuckle.
"Look at this pretty little girl—she's already crying. How amusing… how amusing!"
Two of its tendrils clapped together in mock applause, its grotesque form practically brimming with delight.
"Why… why…"
Makomo began walking forward, step by step, tears streaming uncontrollably from the corners of her eyes.
"Was it you… who killed Sabito?"
"I've eaten too many to remember. Which one are you talking about?"
"The one who wore a fox mask with open eyes."
She bit down on her words.
"Ohhh, that boy from last time!"
The Hand Demon's tone shifted, almost nostalgic.
"Yes, yes—I remember him. He was quite good… such a shame. He almost had a chance to defeat me… but in the end, he ran out of strength."
"Do you know how firm his muscles were? How delicious he tasted? He was far better than any of Urokodaki's other disciples. When his flesh burst between my teeth… ah, the flavor was simply exquisite—"
"Unforgivable… unforgivable!"
Makomo's voice broke as she glared up at the towering demon.
"The mask you're holding… is mine."
"Oh?"
The Hand Demon let out a surprised cry, then broke into delighted laughter.
"How wonderful, how wonderful! This time, Urokodaki's disciple is such a delicious-looking girl. That flesh looks tender… that skin so soft… you must taste exquisite…"
"Quick, put on the mask."
With a flick of its tendril, the fox mask was thrown toward her.
Makomo reached out and caught it.
Tears still falling, she slowly lifted the fox mask with its closed, smiling eyes and placed it over her face—like accepting the expectations her teacher had entrusted to her before she left
"Haha, yes… that's the one. It fits perfectly. Every mask Urokodaki makes fits his disciples so well. Such craftsmanship… it's just like his own tengu mask. So familiar… it almost feels like I'm seeing him again."
"Every time I devour someone wearing one of these masks… it feels like I'm devouring Urokodaki himself."
"Keh… keh… keh…"
The Hand Demon laughed, as if savoring a fond memory.
"Were all my fellow disciples… eaten by you?" Makomo asked, her hand gripping her sword tightly as she stared at the towering monster.
"Did I eat them all? …I suppose I did."
The Hand Demon fell into thought, its many tendrils stretching out one after another as if counting.
"One… two… ten… eleven…"
"Ah, I can't remember. I really can't remember anymore."
But soon, it gave a careless shrug, its tone turning gleeful again.
"But that doesn't matter. Just thinking about how Urokodaki will hear that his disciples have died again… he must be so heartbroken. Hahaha… he must be."
"Imagining the look on his face when he hears the news… ah, it would be wonderful. Truly wonderful. I'd love to see it—it must be an exquisite sight."
"As for why I target you… it's all because of Urokodaki."
Its tone suddenly turned dark, almost venomous.
"He's the one who imprisoned me here. Do you know that? I've been trapped on this mountain for decades. Every year, I only get to eat once… do you have any idea how miserable that is?"
"It's all his fault."
"I'm just returning the suffering he gave me."
"So if you want to blame someone… blame your sensei."
"Blame Urokodaki."
"He's the one who got you all killed."
Makomo slowly drew her Nichirin Sword.
Under the moonlight, the edge gleamed with a chilling, icy brilliance. Her voice trembled slightly, carrying a faint sob.
"That… is not our sensei's fault."
"Hahaha—!"
The Hand Demon burst into laughter, clapping its tendrils together.
"Every single one of Urokodaki's disciples says the same thing. Every one of you loves your sensei so dearly."
"Hahahaha…!"
"And yet, every one of those devoted disciples dies because of him."
"How wonderful… truly wonderful. If Urokodaki knew, he'd be overjoyed—so happy he might just die from it!"
Makomo said nothing more.
The coldness in her eyes deepened until it was like fro
st itself. Lowering her head slightly, she spoke in a soft voice—so light it seemed almost weightless, yet it carried through the air with quiet, unshakable resolve.
"I will… end this."
"End all of this… sorrow."
As her voice faded, her figure vanished from where she stood, leaving behind faint afterimages in the air.
In the next instant, she reappeared high above.
The Hand Demon instinctively lifted its head.
A vast silver moon hung in the sky.
Framed against its glow, the girl hovered in midair—her dark hair flowing freely, her slender hand gripping the blade. The Nichirin sword shimmered with a water-blue light as she raised it high.
"Water Breathing… Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust."
..
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