After drinking, Makomo did not return to her room to rest. Instead, she walked alone along the slopes of Mount Fujikasane, her Nichirin Sword held lightly in her hand.
All across the mountain, wisteria flowers bloomed in abundance. Whenever the wind stirred, petals were lifted into the air, drifting and dancing like a violet tide—so achingly beautiful that it almost felt unreal.
Standing there, she found herself recalling Soma's words as he had drunkenly slammed down his cup:
"Glory in death, shame in life."
Her thoughts drifted further, to the backs of her fellow disciples and Sabito, as they once set out for Mount Fujikasane to face the Final Selection.
Everyone had known they might die.
And yet, not a single one of them had hesitated.
Not one had ever considered turning back.
All of them had moved forward without looking behind.
Even if they were given another chance, Makomo felt certain—her seniors, her companions, and Sabito alike would still make the same choice.
Before, she had never really stopped to wonder why they were all so unwavering.
She hadn't even questioned it herself.
But today… she finally began to understand.
Life was precious, yes—
But there were things that mattered far more than life itself.
Lost in thought, she walked on without noticing how far she had gone, until she reached the summit of Mount Fujikasane. Compared to the lush beauty of wisteria in full bloom along the mountainside, the peak was barren—overgrown with wild grass, desolate and silent.
She had only been walking a short while when she spotted something lodged in the crevice of a rock—
A fragment of a human hand bone.
Makomo froze, staring at it.
It was likely the remains of some swordsman who had died here. Even now, the fingers of the skeletal hand were tightly curled, as though still gripping a blade. One could almost imagine that, at the very moment of death, that swordsman had still been fighting.
In his final moments… had he felt regret?
Makomo didn't know.
But she knew that if it were her, she likely wouldn't.
Tilting her head back, she gazed across the barren summit, and for a fleeting instant, it was as though she could see it—the echoes of the past. One swordsman after another clashing with demons, their bodies falling, one after the next.
Originally, she had no intention of telling her most beloved teacher, Sakonji Urokodaki, about the Hand Demon.
But now… she had changed her mind.
The deaths of her seniors and Sabito were undoubtedly painful, sorrowful beyond words.
But their deaths were never something that should be hidden away—
Nor something that ought to be forgotten.
There was no shame in how they died.
Perhaps they had all fallen to the same demon. Perhaps some had been killed without the strength to resist, while others had fought with everything they had and still been overwhelmed. Some might have collapsed from exhaustion before meeting their end…
But none of them had betrayed their teacher's expectations.
There was nothing about it that could not be spoken of.
Their teacher might regret that he hadn't managed to kill the Hand Demon himself.
He might even blame himself.
But what had happened could not be undone.
And surely, whether it was her seniors or Sabito, none of them would ever blame him for it.
Even she herself—if she were to die here—would never hold her teacher responsible.
He deserved to know the truth.
He deserved to feel pride in his disciples.
To remain ignorant of the cause of their deaths… that would be the cruelest thing of all.
A gentle breeze brushed past, cooling the fox mask that covered Makomo's eyes. In that moment, it felt as though she saw them—
Her seniors… and Sabito.
Standing not far away, smiling at her, beckoning her forward.
Makomo's eyes widened, and before she could stop herself, she broke into a run, joy surging through her as she rushed toward them—
Only to pass straight through empty air.
When she looked up again, beneath the soft sunlight, their figures dissolved into countless motes of light, fading little by little. Each of them wore the masks lovingly crafted by their teacher, smiling as they departed.
Even those protective masks scattered away with the wind.
Makomo stood there on the mountaintop for a long time, watching.
In the end—
The young girl bent deeply at the waist, offering a solemn bow to her departing seniors and Sabito.
…
When she returned to her assigned lodging, Makomo requested paper and brush from a member of the Kakushi. Sitting alone by the window, she gazed out at the blooming wisteria beyond, then lifted her brush and began to write a letter to her master.
"Most beloved Urokodaki-sensei, I hope this letter finds you well…"
"Today marks the end of the Final Selection on Mount Fujikasane. Your most adorable disciple, Makomo, is honored to bring you some good news—your dear student has successfully passed the exam. believe that as you read this, you are probably wearing a silly grin. Heh, you should! I wonder if the fields you've been clearing have been planted with rapeseed seeds yet? I promised to be there when the flowers bloom, and I have not broken my word."
"As you read this, are you excitedly grabbing your hoe to go work the fields? I have one more thing to tell you, Sensei."
"It is about the true cause of the deaths of my seniors and Sabito."
"Dear Sensei, please do not grieve over your disciples' deaths. Everyone dies. You will one day, I will one day—life itself begins with the certainty of death. And death, in truth, is not something that must always be sorrowful."
"My seniors and Sabito all gave their lives walking the path of demon slaying. You may feel sorrow for them, Sensei, but more than that, you should feel pride. Not a single one of them ever took a step back."
"Whether it was my seniors or Sabito, they all fought until their final breath. Though they fell to the Hand Demon, there is no shame in that."
"They fought until the very end of their lives."
"They never stopped fighting."
"Dear Urokodaki-sensei, you must be blaming yourself right now—for not killing the Hand Demon back then. But truly, there is no need for such sorrow. Please, do not blame yourself, and do not shed tears for this. None of us have ever blamed you, nor have we ever thought it was your fault. We all love you dearly, Sensei. If our deaths were to bring you pain and self-reproach… then that would be what truly saddens us."
"There is no need for you to carry the weight of our deaths."
"Our passing is not something to mourn endlessly. Just as Soma said while drinking today—"
"Glory in death, shame in life. That is all."
…
A gentle breeze passed by as Makomo finished writing the final stroke. She set down her brush and watched as an aged Kasugai crow descended from the sky.
She carefully removed the metal tube attached to its leg and took out the letter within.
She had assumed it would be another message from Nezuko this time—but it wasn't.
It was from Urokodaki-sensei.
Slowly, she unfolded the letter.
There were only a few simple words written inside:
"Makomo… are you well?"
Just a handful of characters, and yet, she could almost see him as he wrote them—the slight hesitation of his brush, the pauses between strokes, the quiet restraint barely masking his concern. She could feel the weight of his anticipation.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she smiled as she picked up her brush once more and added a final line to her reply.
"My most respected Sensei, your most adorable disciple, Makomo, is doing very well."
…
As the breeze carried drifting wisteria petals into the distance, Soma—despite being a demon who had no real need for sleep—rarely indulged himself in rest. Yet this time, he had allowed himself the luxury of sleeping in.
When he finally stirred, the first thing he noticed was a faint, clean fragrance—soft and distinctly feminine. At the same time, the back of his head rested against something firm, yet incredibly soft.
His eyes slowly opened.
What greeted him was a pair of beautiful pink-purple eyes. The girl's delicate face hovered above him, her gaze quiet and gentle as she looked down at him.
"Good morning."
Kanao's lips curved into a bright, cheerful smile. "Uncle, you can sleep a little longer if you want. It's been a long time since you've slept so peacefully like this."
"Good morning, Kanao," he replied softly.
Only then did he realize—his head was resting on her lap.
He had no idea when she had come over and gently placed his head there. No wonder it hadn't felt like a pillow at all—the sensation was entirely different.
No wonder it had been so comfortable.
He didn't even know how long he had been lying there like that.
Sitting up, he stretched lazily, a sense of rare ease spreading through his body. Just as Kanao had said, it really had been a long time since he'd slept so soundly.
"Thank you for the trouble, Kanao."
Soma turned back toward her, only to see the girl rising to her feet—her steps slightly unsteady, as though her legs had gone numb from sitting still for too long.
Perhaps it was because she didn't want to disturb him—because she wanted him to rest more comfortably—that Kanao had held that same position for who knew how long. Otherwise, she wouldn't have staggered the moment she stood up, her legs betraying the strain she had quietly endured.
"Uncle, it wasn't hard at all," Kanao said, lifting her head to look at him, her soft pink-purple eyes clear and sincere. "Being able to help you sleep peacefully… that made me really happy."
Soma reached out and gently patted her head. He didn't say anything more, only reminding her to move around a bit—after all, staying in one position for too long would hinder blood circulation and leave parts of the body stiff and numb.
He waited until the discomfort in her legs had faded before finally stepping forward and pushing the door open.
Standing at the doorway was a beautiful girl who, without her usual closed-eye fox mask, looked like the girl-next-door—gentle and familiar, like a childhood friend. When she saw him, she smiled brightly.
"Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, Miss Makomo," Soma replied with a smile of his own.
At that moment, Kanao stepped out from inside and came to stand beside him.
"Kanao, good morning," Makomo greeted her as well, her smile just as warm.
Kanao lifted her head slightly, a faint smile appearing on her lips, though she didn't respond aloud.
"Today should be the day to select the Scarlet Ore and have your own Nichirin Sword forged, right?" Soma asked.
"That's right," Makomo nodded. "There's also the custom uniform fitting. If you have any preferences, you can tell the Kakushi. You'll also receive your own Kasugai crow, and an advance payment as well…"
"Sounds like the benefits are quite generous," Soma chuckled.
He glanced over at Tanjiro, who had just stepped out as well, his expression filled with anticipation, and smiled. "Let's go together."
By the time Soma and the others arrived, quite a crowd had already gathered.
Some Kakushi were busy taking measurements for the swordsmen who had passed the selection, asking about their preferences for uniform design.
Others had just come out of a nearby room, black Kasugai crows already perched on their shoulders. A few were excitedly interacting with their newly assigned companions, their faces lit with childlike delight.
Nearby, several swordsmen were selecting pieces of Scarlet Ore from a large pile, carefully choosing the material that would be used to forge their Nichirin Swords, before heading over to a Kakushi to describe their desired weapon.
In another room, swordsmen emerged clutching generous sums of money, animatedly discussing how they planned to spend it.
As Soma and his group passed by, many people paused in their tracks, some even bowing slightly in respect.
"Greetings, sir…"
Soma simply responded with a polite nod and a faint smile.
…
He had assumed he would go through the same process as everyone else.
But just then, a young girl with snow-white hair and delicate, youthful features hurried toward him.
Soma stopped in his tracks, his gaze instinctively drawn to her striking white hair—it was a rare sight. He vaguely recalled that several of Kagaya Ubuyashiki's daughters had the same pale hair, as did their mother, Amane Ubuyashiki. Only their son, Kiriya, had inherited black hair instead.
If he remembered correctly, this girl had seemed rather displeased with him just yesterday.
Ubuyashiki Hinaki quickly came to a stop in front of him, then lowered herself into a respectful bow. When she straightened, her youthful face carried a gentle smile—completely unlike the dissatisfaction she had shown the day before.
"Sir, are you here to select your Kasugai crow and choose Scarlet Ore to have your personal Nichirin Sword forged?"
"Yes," Soma replied.
"Then please, follow me."
Ubuyashiki Hinaki kept her voice soft as she spoke. Soma nodded and fell into step behind her.
After walking a short distance, she spoke again, her tone quiet and apologetic. "I'm very sorry about yesterday. My attitude wasn't very good… I hope you can forgive me, sir."
Soma was slightly taken aback. In truth, he hadn't paid it much mind at all, nor had he expected such a sudden change in her demeanor.
Was it because of what I said before leaving? he wondered. He hadn't imagined it would have such an effect.
"It's nothing," he said simply.
"My name is Ubuyashiki Hinaki. You may call me Hinaki."
"I see—Miss Hinaki," Soma nodded, though his gaze couldn't help drifting once more to her snow-white hair. Curiosity flickered in his eyes. "If you don't mind me asking… why is your hair white, while Kiriya-sama's is black? You two seem to be siblings."
"Yes, sir. I'm Kiriya's older sister," Hinaki answered calmly. "As for his black hair, it's because he inherited our father's traits, while my sisters and I inherited our mother's."
"Is that how it works?" Soma was somewhat surprised.
Hinaki paused and turned back slightly, a faint apologetic smile on her lips. "As for the exact reason, it involves certain family matters that I'm afraid I can't disclose."
"I see. My apologies—that was a bit presumptuous of me," Soma said, shaking his head.
"Not at all," Hinaki replied, lifting her gaze with a gentle smile. "Many people are curious about it. You were simply being straightforward."
After a brief pause, she added, her voice carrying a hint of quiet admiration, "What you said yesterday… I still remember it clearly. 'Glory in death, shame in life.' Even now, when I think of it, my heart stirs. It's… deeply inspiring."
Soma turned his head slightly, letting out an awkward chuckle. "Oh, it was just something I said on a whim."
Hinaki looked up at the tall figure before her, then lowered her gaze again, unconvinced.
On a whim? she thought.
Words like that didn't come so easily.
Only someone who truly carried such conviction in their heart—someone strong—could speak with such weight and certainty. It was no wonder her younger brother, Kiriya, had sensed something different about this man from the very beginning.