When the final traces of sunset faded and darkness swallowed the land, the demons that had lurked in hiding throughout the daylight could no longer restrain themselves. One after another, they emerged from their shelters, beginning their hunt.
For most of the swordsmen who had come to take part in the selection, they simply did not possess the strength to face a demon alone.
Even if the demon before them was among the weakest—starved for a year, weakened by constant exposure to wisteria—
It didn't change the reality.
So more often than not, they could only flee in panic. And yet, even in their attempts to escape, many were inevitably found by the ravenous demons, forced into desperate battles for survival.
Either they would be devoured—
Or they would kill.
But most… became food.
…
The campfire burned steadily, its flames flickering in the darkness. From afar came the guttural roars of demons, mixed faintly with sharp, agonized screams.
Somewhere out there, another participant had likely just died.
This was the path of a demon slayer.
Scenes like this were unavoidable.
The firelight danced across the group gathered around it, illuminating their faces. Almost unconsciously, every gaze turned toward the tall figure at the center—filled with anticipation, with excitement… and with a trace of unease.
Soma crouched there, meeting their eyes one by one.
He saw it all.
Expectation.
Eagerness.
Fear.
A faint smile curved on his lips.
"Night has finally fallen," he said.
"Every time darkness arrives, it becomes the hour when demons hunt. But at the same time… it is also when demon slayers descend, cutting them down and protecting humanity."
It was an old tale, passed down through generations in this land.
And yet, hearing it now, everyone straightened unconsciously.
Because they were those very figures.
The ones who descended in the night.
The ones who slew demons.
The ones who protected others.
Perhaps, someday, their own stories would also be told—whispered or sung in this land.
Even if their names were never known.
Even so… that was enough.
For some, this path was born of tragedy—of families torn apart by demons, of vengeance that demanded repayment.
But for many others, there was something else driving them forward—
A quiet, burning sense of heroism.
This world had never lacked people like that.
And it was precisely because of them that the Demon Slayer Corps had endured for so many years.
Despite setbacks.
Despite disasters—even times when their headquarters had been destroyed.
Despite the loss of their leader… even his head once taken as a trophy by demons.
Despite betrayal from powerful swordsmen.
No matter how many trials they had faced—
The Corps still stood.
Unshaken.
Because with each generation, new blood flowed in—fresh lives filling their ranks, breathing vitality back into an organization that might otherwise have withered and grown old.
Clang!
Nichirin Swords were drawn, their steel catching the firelight and reflecting a dazzling array of colors—crimson, blue, gray, green… and even the rare, heavy black.
Under the glow of the flames, the blades shimmered with an almost mesmerizing beauty.
"Follow the formation we discussed during the day," Soma instructed calmly. "Those trained in Stone Breathing take the front. Water Breathing stays in the center. Wind Breathing covers the flanks…"
"Yes!"
Everyone rose in unison.
After choosing a direction, they advanced in silence, gripping their blades tightly.
Before long, they encountered their first demon in a patch of thorny terrain.
For these newly formed teams, this was their first true hunt together. Until now, they had been nothing more than prey, fleeing in terror across the mountain.
But now—
They were the hunters.
Excitement surged through them.
In their minds, they had already imagined countless scenarios—teammates being attacked and falling into danger, Nishimura Kenichi, the Stone Breathing user, taking the first blow, others following up to strike…
Everything had been planned.
The demon, its body bruised in sickly shades of blue and purple, its face twisted, crimson eyes gleaming, came to a halt as it saw the group advancing with killing intent.
Then—
Without the slightest hesitation—
It turned and ran.
Everyone froze.
Everyone froze.
They looked at one another, momentarily at a loss.
They had braced themselves for a bloody battle.
Prepared for a fight to the death.
But the demon…
Had fled.
Clearly, demons were not mindless beasts.
They had intelligence.
They understood danger.
And when faced with an opponent they could not overcome—
They would not foolishly choose to fight.
"Soma-san… what should we do?"
Standing at the front, Kenichi Nishimura—the one trained in Stone Breathing—turned back, looking somewhat lost.
Just the night before, they had been fleeing in panic, hunted relentlessly by demons. And now, faced with one again, it was the demon that had turned tail and run. The sudden reversal left him disoriented, unsure how to react.
"What else is there to do?" Soma snapped, irritation evident in his voice. "We've got Nichirin Swords—so chase it down."
After a brief pause, he added more firmly, "Maintain formation. Stay alert."
"Yes!"
Everyone quickly snapped back to their senses. Shinichi Izumi and Akio Inoue, both trained in Wind Breathing, immediately surged forward to intercept the fleeing demon, aiming to slow it down so the rest of the group could catch up.
Before long, the two had already engaged it in combat.
By the time Soma arrived with the others, both of them had already suffered noticeable injuries.
Seeing their condition, Soma couldn't help but recall the first Demon Slayer he had killed—the man had also practiced Wind Breathing. Compared to Izumi and Inoue, that swordsman had been far more composed, far more calculating. He hadn't recklessly clashed head-on the way these two were doing now.
As the rest of the group arrived, the demon clearly panicked. It turned to flee again, but was quickly knocked to the ground by Nishimura, who charged in with brute force.
The others rushed forward almost at the same time—too eagerly, in fact. In the chaos, two of them even collided with each other in a clumsy mishap.
It was obvious.
This was their first time working as a team.
And there were far too many problems.
Fortunately… the demon they faced was weak.
So weak, in fact, that Soma couldn't help but think—if it had been him back then, facing this same disorganized group alone, he could have slaughtered them all.
A team without coordination didn't just fail to multiply its strength.
Sometimes, it made things worse.
Instead of one plus one being greater than two… it could easily become less than one.
The demon, already feeble and now thoroughly panicked, was quickly overwhelmed. Its limbs were severed one after another, and finally, Soma stepped in and cleanly took its head.
As the head hit the ground, a faint surge of power flowed through him.
Physique+0.1
Agility +0.1
Strength +0.1
Mental Strenght+0.1
The battle ended, and the group came to a halt, breathing heavily.
Some wore expressions of exhilaration, thrilled by their first victory. Others groaned in pain, clutching their wounds. A few simply collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air.
No one moved to tend to the injured.
No one kept watch over their surroundings.
No one…
Off to the side, Kaigaku stood with his Nichirin Sword in hand, his blue eyes sweeping over the group. There was a trace of disdain in his gaze.
What use were teammates like these?
They had struggled so miserably just to kill a weak demon. For him, a single strike would have been more than enough to end it.
His eyes shifted toward Soma, confusion flickering within them. With strength like his, why would he choose to associate with such weaklings?
It made no sense.
…
After the battle, Soma's first priority was tending to the wounded. He moved quickly, checking injuries and applying bandages with practiced efficiency.
Once everyone's condition had stabilized, he gathered them together to review what had just happened.
Even in such a simple encounter, the problems had been glaring.
Under normal circumstances, situations like this easily gave rise to conflict—everyone believing their own approach was right, disagreements escalating into friction, until eventually the team fractured entirely.
But with a leader who was strong enough, respected enough, and patient enough to address those issues—either resolving them or redirecting them—the team could instead grow tighter, more cohesive. And once united under a shared goal, their progress would accelerate dramatically.
So, stumbling as they were, they began to piece together the lessons from their first hunt.
Nearby, Makomo and Tanjiro Kamado remained by Soma's side, silently observing everything. At the same time, they reflected inwardly—wondering that when they themselves became swordsmen, when they joined a team… or perhaps even led one…
What kind of choices would they make?
…
Their first hunt had been messy, riddled with mistakes and even injuries.
But when they encountered a second demon, things went far more smoothly.
This time, when the demon tried to flee, Izumi and Inoue gave chase—but instead of recklessly engaging in a direct fight, they focused on slowing it down, preventing its escape while waiting for the rest of the team to arrive.
When the group caught up, they moved with structure.
Some targeted the legs.
Others went for the arms.
A few stood ready at the flanks, blades poised to provide support at any moment.
And others kept watch over their surroundings, guarding against unexpected danger…
Then, right before Kaigaku's astonished gaze, the demon was cut down with ease—cleanly, efficiently, without any of the earlier blunders or teammates crashing into one another in confusion.
After the kill, Soma once again gathered everyone to review the fight. As expected, differing opinions quickly sparked arguments, but just as naturally, all eyes turned toward him. Almost instinctively, they deferred to his judgment—and just as naturally, a sense of trust began to take root in their hearts.
This trust was no longer the shallow submission born from overwhelming strength, nor reluctant obedience under pressure. It was something deeper—genuine recognition.
…
By the time they encountered a third demon, their efficiency had improved to a startling degree. Almost the moment they came face to face with it, everyone moved into position, seamlessly carrying out their respective roles.
This demon was stronger than any they had faced before, yet paradoxically, it lasted even less time.
When its head was cleanly severed by Soma, Kaigaku could no longer hide his shock.
But what truly unsettled him was something else entirely.
He noticed that within this team, something had quietly changed—people were beginning to trust one another. When an attack from the demon clearly threatened Shoji Watanabe's life, Watanabe did not hesitate or retreat. Instead, he continued carrying out his role without holding back, fully committed.
And Kenichi Nishimura did not fail him.
At the critical moment, Nishimura stepped in and blocked the potentially fatal blow.
That was the unmistakable sign of something profound—of being willing to entrust one's back, one's life, to a companion.
To Kaigaku, who was intensely self-centered by nature, such a thing was almost unimaginable.
Could a group really reach this level in such a short time?
Yet, precisely because he could never truly synchronize with the others, Kaigaku soon found himself drifting to the edges of the team.
No one wanted to partner with him—even though his strength was clearly superior.
No one was willing to entrust their back to him, because deep down, they did not believe he would protect it with sincerity.
And so, little by little, the way they looked at him began to change.
The only reason he was still allowed to remain was because the team leader had permitted it, tolerating the presence of someone whose arrogance was impossible to ignore.
…
After their fourth successful hunt, Soma sought Kaigaku out.
"I'm sorry," he said calmly, "but it seems you don't quite fit in with the team."
"I can see that."
Kaigaku lowered his head, his expression unusually complicated. A team like this—one where people could entrust their lives to each other—was something he couldn't help but envy.
And yet, to become part of such a team meant offering his own back in return.
That was something he simply could not do.
Still, the idea Soma had once mentioned—that it was possible to build a team fully capable of guarding his back—no longer sounded like empty words.
After all, in such a short time, this man had already shaped a group capable of remarkable coordination.
"I'm afraid that, moving forward, you'll have to act more like a lone wolf within the team," Soma continued evenly.
Kaigaku fell silent for a moment before lifting his head. "Then when… will I be worthy of having a team like this—one that can protect my back?"
Soma only smiled at him, saying nothing.
But Kaigaku understood.
It meant that, as he was now, he was still far from reaching that level.
Without another word, Soma turned and headed back toward his companions. The moment he rejoined them, their faces lit up with genuine warmth and enthusiasm.
And when Kaigaku followed shortly after, not a single person paid him any attention.
The stark contrast in their reactions made his fists clench tighter and tighter.
All of this did not escape Soma's notice.
What Kaigaku might never realize was that a team built on mutual trust—one where lives could be entrusted so completely—was something someone as self-centered as him would almost never find.
And so, Kaigaku would likely continue believing that it was simply because he wasn't strong enough.
That belief would drive him forward—pushing him to train harder, to hunt more demons, to prove his strength to others.
To kill more, and more, and more…
But…
No matter what, no one was willing to become teammates with someone so deeply self-centered and selfish—even if he truly was strong.
…
"Kill!"
When they encountered another demon, the team's coordination had already reached a new level. Under their seamless cooperation, the speed at which they hunted demons increased dramatically—so much so that it almost felt effortless, like slicing through vegetables.
On Mount Fujikasane, those who had once been hiding and avoiding danger began to emerge, drawn by the team's efficiency. One after another, they approached, hoping to join them.
And so, Soma accepted a number of new recruits.
He then split the original team in half, assigning some of the more experienced members to form a new squad. After filling the remaining positions with newcomers, he placed the newly formed group under the command of Makomo.
"I… can I really do this?" Makomo asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
"If you never try, how will you know you can't?" Soma replied, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder, his tone calm yet steady. "At least in my eyes, Makomo is an exceptional girl. And this is just leading a team—one day, you'll become a powerful swordswoman, even a Hashira."
Looking into his eyes, filled with unwavering belief, something stirred within her. For reasons she couldn't quite explain, she didn't want to disappoint that trust.
"I'll lead this team well." She clenched her fists, biting her lip beneath her mask as resolve took hold.
"Mm."
Soma simply nodded, then let her take her team and move into formation.
As for the remaining group, he had no intention of leading it himself. Instead, he entrusted it to Tanjiro Kamado.
Tanjiro was clearly caught off guard. For someone still so young, the sudden responsibility filled him with unease—but even more so, with excitement.
"Why… won't you lead them yourself, sir?" he asked carefully.
"Because it's not suitable," Soma answered, patting him on the shoulder. "Your teammates probably aren't convinced by you yet. There are still a few days left in the trial—use that time to make them see you in a new light."
His voice was gentle, but firm.
Tanjiro didn't fully understand what he meant by "not suitable," but seeing that Soma had no intention of explaining further, he could only step forward. With a mix of nervousness and anticipation, he began his very first experience leading a team.
"Compared to Makomo, Tanjiro's current strength is still lacking," Soma murmured softly, glancing at Tanjiro's retreating figure before lowering his gaze to Kanao Tsuyuri beside him. "But he'll win over his teammates quickly—through his own personal charm."
Kanao blinked her soft pink-violet eyes, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.
"As for why I'm not suitable…" Soma continued, gently patting her shoulder, "it's because I'm not someone who's willing to entrust my back to others. In the short term, with enough strength and a bit of pretense, I can maintain the appearance of coordination. But over time… that would inevitably change."
His voice softened further.
"The human heart is a sensitive thing. Whether you're sincere or not… people can feel it."
He looked at her, noticing the slight furrow in her delicate brows, and reached out to lightly tap the bridge of her nose.
"Perhaps… only Kanao is someone I could truly trust with my back."
Kanao's eyes widened slightly at those words. Without realizing it, her hand tightened, and then—very gently—she reached out and took hold of his.
She said nothing.
But the determination in her gaze was unmistakable.
Soma smiled quietly.
And though he didn't say it aloud, there was no doubt—he, too, would be the one she could trust with her back above all else.
...
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