The great hall of the Demon Slayer Corps was a place of judgment. Lantern light cast long shadows against painted screens, and the air was heavy with the weight of expectation.
Yuta knelt in the center, sword resting across his knees. Around him, the Hashira sat in their places, the pillars of the Corps who carried both its strength and its authority. (not all hashira are here)
Their stares were sharp enough to cut. Some curious. Some cold. Others openly hostile.
Rika's ghostly form flickered faintly behind him, restless. "Yuta… they hate me. They want to destroy me."
"Calm down," Yuta whispered in his thoughts. "Let me handle this."
The silence broke when the Flame Hashira leaned forward, his voice deep and booming.
"So this is the newcomer who killed a demon so swiftly? Hah! Not bad for a boy just stepping into our ranks."
The Wind Hashira scoffed, folding his arms. "Not bad? He's hiding behind that thing." His eyes cut toward Rika. "Tell me, Okkotsu—why should we allow a demon to walk freely with you?"
"She's not a demon," Yuta said firmly, his voice ringing louder than he intended. "She's Rika. My partner."
The Serpent Hashira hissed softly, his gaze narrowing. "Partner? Don't speak such nonsense. If it looks like a demon, if it moves like a demon, then it is one. You're keeping secrets, boy. Secrets get people killed."
Yuta's fists clenched, but he forced his breathing steady. "I'm not hiding anything. Rika fights with me, not against me. And if she ever lost control…" He met the Stone Hashira's stern gaze. "…then I'll be the one to stop her."
The Love Hashira tilted her head, her tone softer. "But she didn't attack us, did she? She fought the demon with him. Isn't that proof enough? If she's dangerous, then so am I—so are all of us who wield blades."
The Stone Hashira rumbled like distant thunder. "A blade does not think for itself. A blade cannot betray. That… spirit has a will. And will is dangerous."
Yuta lowered his head, his voice quiet but unwavering. "I know. And I take responsibility for that danger. Every day."
The Flame Hashira gave a booming laugh, breaking the heavy silence. "Hah! Responsibility, resolve, strength. He speaks like a slayer, at least."
The Wind Hashira snorted. "Or like a fool who believes his pet won't bite him one day."
The Serpent Hashira's eyes glinted with venom. "And when it does, we'll be cleaning up his mess."
The Love Hashira frowned. "You're being unfair. If we cast him out, aren't we wasting a weapon that could help us?"
The Flame Hashira slammed a fist against his knee. "Exactly. If he falters, we cut him down. Until then, he fights with us. Simple."
Jiro, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was calm but sharp enough to silence the bickering.
"I watched him fight. He didn't hesitate. He put himself in danger to protect those beside him—even those who doubted him. That is not the mark of a traitor. That is the mark of a Demon Slayer."
At last, the Master of the Corps raised a hand. His frail body sat behind a folding screen, but his voice carried clearly.
"Enough," he said softly. "I have heard enough."
The hall quieted instantly.
"Okkotsu Yuta," the Master said, "your power is unusual. That much is clear. It unsettles some, and inspires others. But strength alone does not define you. What matters is how you wield it."
His pale eyes shifted toward Jiro, then back to Yuta. "You will remain in the Corps. You will be tested, again and again. Fail, and you will not be forgiven. But succeed… and perhaps you will stand among us as a true slayer."
Yuta bowed low, his voice steady. "I accept. No matter the test, I'll fight to protect people. That's all I've ever wanted."
The Hashira began to rise, some still scowling, others thoughtful.
The Wind Hashira brushed past him with a derisive snort. "Don't think you belong here yet, boy. You'll have to earn that."
The Love Hashira paused at the doorway, giving Yuta a small, almost hopeful smile. "Prove them wrong. I'd like to see it."
The Flame Hashira laughed heartily. "You've got fire in you, lad. Don't waste it."
The Serpent Hashira lingered longest, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "One slip," he whispered coldly, "and I'll cut down you and your spirit without hesitation."
Jiro placed a steady hand on Yuta's shoulder once the hall emptied. "This was only the beginning. They'll watch you closely now."
Yuta exhaled, his grip tightening on his sword. "That's fine. Let them watch. I'll show them Rika isn't their enemy."
Rika's form shimmered faintly beside him, her sorrowful eyes softening. *"We'll show them. Together."*
The night outside was still and endless. Yuta knew this was no acceptance—it was probation. But that was enough.
For the first time since arriving in this strange world, he had been given a place. Now, he had to fight to keep it.