Chapter 12 — The Demon Slayer Corps Selection
Three days later, outside the Hayama Training Grounds.
With Rika's help, Asuka trimmed his hair into a neat, sharp black crop. The ragged cotton coat that had accompanied him through everything was carefully folded and left behind at Hayama. In its place, he donned a fresh, emerald-green kendō uniform.
Only today did Kenji seem to realize something obvious in hindsight—this guy was actually pretty good-looking.
It was just that before, with that gloomy aura and complete lack of grooming, you'd never notice it…
Damn it. Handsome and strong.
So unfair.
"Asuka," Arasaki said, his tone steady but earnest, "remember what I told you. If you encounter an enemy you can't handle alone, try to work together with your teammates. In this world, things are always easier when you have companions to walk alongside you…"
Physically, this child already far surpassed the average Demon Slayer.
But mentally…
Arasaki couldn't help thinking that maybe—just maybe—letting him spend some time among others would help smooth those sharp edges.
"I understand, Master Arasaki," Asuka replied, nodding as he tightened the strap that held Bakudatsu against his chest.
Rika handed him a prepared travel pack and added gently,
"Mount Fujikasane is a bit far. You can follow the main road south for about seven days, or rent an ox cart from the town at the foot of the mountain. Once you see a mountain covered in wisteria, you'll know you've arrived… Be careful."
"Thank you."
After Arasaki gave a few final instructions about the journey and the details of Final Selection, Asuka turned and ran down the mountain—without looking back.
It was the first time in two years that he had left Hayama.
"…Is it really all right, Sensei?" Rika asked quietly as she watched his figure recede. "For Asuka, wouldn't it be better to stay here and become a cultivator?"
"The wind beyond the mountain is howling, Rika," Arasaki said.
His gaze didn't follow Asuka—it lifted instead to the darkened, clouded sky in the distance.
"The demons are growing stronger. The Upper Moons are moving more frequently… while the overall quality of the Corps is declining."
"There's no time to wait. Asuka is resilient—he'll be of use to the Master."
"…Let us hope so." Rika bowed slightly.
---
Final Selection.
The last trial before becoming a full-fledged member of the Demon Slayer Corps.
Participants are sent into the testing grounds known as Mount Fujikasane, where they must survive for seven days.
Within the mountain are numerous demons captured by the Corps—minor ones that have only killed one or two humans, their strength relatively limited.
For truly capable swordsmen, this is an easy task. Final Selection exists less as a challenge and more as a filter—to weed out those who come armed with nothing but reckless courage and brute force, without proper training.
On the brutal battlefield of demon hunting, without absolute strength and the resolve to face death head-on, survival is impossible.
---
Several days later, following the route Arasaki had given him, Asuka arrived at the side of a stream.
Across two lifetimes, this was the first time he had traveled such a long distance entirely on his own. The experience stirred something in his long-closed heart.
The wind in the forest.
The wind by the stream.
The wind rolling across rice fields.
Each one was different.
Sitting beside the flowing water, Asuka felt more keenly than ever that his past life had been worse than that of a stray dog—scraping and struggling each day just to stay alive.
"…Aizen," he murmured.
He had finally remembered the name of that bespectacled man.
Back then, in the Rukongai, a group of black-clad "Shinigami" approached him under the pretense of assisting the Gotei Thirteen with an investigation. A few bowls of food and water were all it took to lure him into Aizen's secret laboratory.
There, he felt his soul torn apart and reassembled again and again—until even the concept of time itself was shattered.
In the end, he was brutally cast into this world.
And the man named Aizen left him without a single explanation.
How do I go back?
What am I now? Human—or wandering soul?
Asuka knew nothing.
He clenched the Asauchi tightly in his hand. For the past two years, whenever training drove him to the brink of collapse, this blade had been the one obsession anchoring him.
I'll go back. I'll return to the Soul Society… and I'll kill that bastard.
"You look like you're in a bad mood."
A sticky, lifeless voice suddenly rose from the stream ahead.
Asuka's expression changed instantly.
He sprang backward, widening the distance in a single motion, hand already on the hilt of his blade, eyes locked onto the water that was now visibly writhing.
Though he wasn't yet a member of the Demon Slayer Corps and lacked a Nichirin sword, Master Arasaki had found him a serviceable old blade—enough to carry him through the selection.
"Care to talk about it, little one?"
With a wet, distorted sound, an adult woman in a mud-soaked kimono slowly rose from the water and stepped onto the bank.
Her body was smeared with filth, damp hair clinging to her pallid forehead—but her features were strangely refined, even beautiful, carrying an unsettling, warped allure.
Her blue-gray eyes glimmered as they fixed on Asuka's handsome face. A viscous sound escaped her lips.
"What a lovely body… so enviable… I want it… I want to take it…"
A demon.
Asuka accepted her identity immediately.
He steadied his breathing and focused on the spiritual pressure radiating from her.
Master Arasaki had said it clearly: demons fed on humans—the more they devoured, the stronger they became, awakening terrifying abilities. Carelessness meant death.
And this demon… was powerful.
Roughly on par with Miss Rika.
That meant she'd consumed more than a few lives.
The demon woman seemed pleased by his reaction. Thick saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth as she smiled.
"So good… so good… quick reactions, sharp mind… makes me want to kill you even more…"
In the next instant, her body twisted violently and lunged forward.
She didn't look fast—but there was something unnervingly fluid about her movement.
Where her feet touched the ground, the earth turned slick and yielding, as though coated in ice or soap, carrying her forward in a sudden glide.
In the blink of an eye, she was upon him.
With a sharp snap, her pale arm lashed out like a whip. Dark-red ripples surged beneath her skin—hidden killing techniques embedded in her strikes—instantly caught by Asuka's heightened perception.
From her joints, countless bead-like blood arrows erupted, screaming through the air, aiming to end his life in a single ambush.
"Wind Breathing, Third Form: Clear Storm, Wind Through the Trees!"
Asuka reacted the moment the blood arrows left her body.
He drew in a massive breath—lungs expanding like bellows—as the airflow throughout his body surged.
Emerald-green currents sprang into existence, coiling around his blade with a shrill hiss.
Centered on himself, Asuka unleashed a counterclockwise storm of rotating wind blades, shredding the incoming blood arrows to pieces!
And it didn't stop there.
As the blood arrows were torn apart, the demon woman's descending arm was severed cleanly as well!
Her expression tightened. She leapt backward at once, widening the distance, her face turning grim.
"Demon Slayer Corps? I just dodged one group—why another already… how unlucky."
She shook her severed arm. The stump twitched violently, flesh writhing as muscle and bone rapidly intertwined.
Within a few breaths, a long, pale arm regrew—smooth and flawless, as if untouched.
"…You hurt me."