"Do we know each other?" Sabito asked, as Tendo's strange expression gave him the illusion of familiarity—though it was the kind where he had absolutely no recollection.
Hearing this, Tendo smiled warmly and said with sincerity, "Perhaps we've met before."
Sabito nudged Giyu and asked, "Your acquaintance?"
Giyu shook his head—he didn't know this person at all.
"Ah well!"
"Even if we haven't met before, we're meeting now!" Tendo activated his natural friendliness and shamelessness, mainly because he truly had seen them before—albeit one-sidedly.
"Forgot to introduce myself—Tendo Kazama!" He extended a friendly hand. "Seems like fate brought us together. Let's be friends!"
Truth be told, Sabito didn't dislike this overly familiar guy. After all, making friends while traveling was always good. He shook Tendo's hand and said:
"Sabito. Looking forward to working with you!"
Just like that, the five of them ended up climbing the mountain together. Aside from Giyu remaining silent the entire time, the others chatted quite amiably.
The halfway point of Mount Fujikasane marked the edge of the wisteria forest, where a stone platform stood. As Tendo's group ascended the platform, all participants of the selection had arrived.
This time, about twenty-five swordsmen were participating in the Final Selection—a significantly larger number compared to previous years.
The mountain path wound like a serpent, following the contours of the slope. When it reached the end of the platform, a bright red torii gate came into view.
The torii stood like a gateway to hell on one side of the platform, its crimson form starkly contrasting with the surrounding green forest, as if carved from blood.
Beneath the torii stood a tall man with long hair resembling burning flames—Shinjuro Rengoku.
He had arrived only an hour earlier than the examinees, having just completed a mission.
Currently, the Demon Slayer Corps was severely understaffed, forcing each Hashira to do the work of ten—there was simply no other choice.
The most shocked were Tendo and his two companions. They never imagined they'd encounter Shinjuro under such circumstances.
Shinjuro glanced at the trio but said nothing further. Clearing his throat, his passionate voice boomed out.
"Everyone, I am the Flame Hashira, Shinjuro Rengoku, and your proctor for this selection."
Shinjuro's voice was like a loudspeaker, instantly boosting the previously low morale.
"The rules of the Final Selection are simple..." As he spoke, Shinjuro turned sideways, pointing behind the torii. "Charge through here, survive seven days on the mountain teeming with demons. That's all.""If you can stand here alive seven days from now, congratulations—you've succeeded!"
As soon as he finished speaking, he pointed to the path down the mountain and said, "If you fear death, there's still time to turn back. Go down the mountain—there's no shame in it, for everyone wants to live."
Kyojuro had said his piece. He would give these children time to think and decide.
A moment later, not a single one had left. They might be afraid, they might fear death, but they were no cowards.
Most of them bore an irreconcilable hatred for the demons—so long as the demons existed, they would never rest.
Kyojuro nodded with satisfaction, his voice ringing out loud and clear:
"Excellent! The future of the Demon Slayer Corps is entrusted to you all. May fortune favor your blades!"
"The Selection begins!"
He stepped aside to clear the path. Kyojuro was the first to rush out of the crowd. As he passed under the torii gate, father and son locked eyes—no words were needed.
At this moment, Kyojuro was not an examiner but a father, sending his own son into a cruel hell. Such was the way of the Rengoku family for generations.
Go, my son!
Kyojuro read his father's lips. Gripping his sword hilt, he turned his gaze forward, blood boiling with determination—he would not disgrace the name of Rengoku.
Obanai followed close behind, nodding at Kyojuro before speeding after Kyojuro.
With leaders to follow, the young swordsmen poured out one after another, resolutely embarking on their journey.
Tendo Kazama was the last to step through the torii gate. Wearing a confident, composed smile, his voice was firm and strong as he declared:
"Old man, seven days from now, there won't be a single demon left alive on Mount Fujikasane!"
"We're terrifyingly strong!"
Hearing this, Kyojuro laughed heartily. He chose to believe in his son and in Kazama—even if there were a hundred demons on Mount Fujikasane right now.
As Kazama's figure vanished into the depths of the wisteria forest, the vast stone platform was left with only Kyojuro standing alone.
Just then, his Kasugai Crow descended, delivering a mission.
"Rengoku! Rengoku! Demon sighted—one day's journey from here!"
"Got it!"
"The kids are giving their all—I can't fall behind either!"
Kyojuro raced down the mountain, a smile on his lips. He looked forward to good news seven days later.
The sprawling wisteria flowers streamed past Kazama like scenes from a film reel. The lingering glow of the setting sun stretched like a long arrow, piercing the boundary between mountain and valley—piercing through Kazama himself.
From afar, towering Mount Fujikasane looked as though someone had tied a golden ribbon vertically around it.
Along this ribbon-like path, Kyojuro led the charge, Obanai close behind, followed by Sabito and Giyu in the middle, with Kazama bringing up the rear.
He wasn't wrong—this year's Final Selection boasted swordsmen who were terrifyingly strong.
Five future Hashira were among them, making it the most formidable lineup in history.
From a distance, the brilliant golden afterglow enveloped half of Mount Fujikasane, but it was shrinking bit by bit—the golden ribbon was disappearing.
Gradually, the light receded until only a sliver remained at the mountaintop, then vanished entirely.
Night fell.
The entire mountain stirred—the demons would soon emerge to hunt.
For the swordsmen, the Demon Slayer Corps' Final Selection was a trial of life and death. But for the demons, it was a feast.
"Dinner is served!""Those foolish humans are coming to die again!"
"I'll eat ten of them! Most swordsmen who take the selection exam are idiots!"
"Exactly! It's been so long since we've had fresh meat!"
"Death to all humans!"
Bloodthirsty and insane voices rose from the depths of the mountains as pairs of crimson eyes slowly opened, filled with greed. They had been holding back for far too long.
One hundred Demons against twenty-five novice swordsmen seemed like favorable odds. But what these Demons could never have anticipated was—someone had cheats, and not just one.
The sky was pitch black as the Demons emerged for slaughter.
In the deepest part of Fujikasane Mountain lay an area shrouded in thick mist, eerily silent without even the presence of wild beasts.
Suddenly, a pair of cold yellowish-brown eyes snapped open, shattering the stillness. These eyes, like those of an abyssal fiend, radiated endless malice.
Upon closer inspection, these eyes belonged to a massive fleshy sphere composed of what appeared to be countless intertwined arms.
Dark green arms writhed continuously as if searching for prey, while the entire sphere exuded a suffocating, spine-chilling aura.
"Urokodaki's disciple has come to die again, heeheehee!"
A creepy laughter echoed through the mountains as the most cowardly Demon in Fujikasane Mountain began to move.