The council hall had dispersed, leaving only silence and unease. Yuta sat alone on the wooden steps outside the barracks, his sword resting across his lap. Rika hovered faintly behind him, her translucent face twisted with worry.
That was when Jiro approached. His silver hair gleamed faintly in the lantern light, his steps calm but purposeful.
"Yuta," Jiro said, stopping in front of him. "The Hashira have made their decision. You will take the Final Selection."
Yuta blinked, confused. "Final… Selection? What is that supposed to mean?"
Rika flickered angrily. "They're testing you again, Yuta! Why won't they leave you alone?"
Jiro sighed, realizing Yuta truly had no idea. "The Final Selection is the trial every slayer must face before joining the Corps. You'll spend seven days on Mount Fujikasane, a place crawling with demons. Survive, and you'll be recognized as a Demon Slayer. Fail…" His tone grew heavy. "Fail, and you'll die."
Yuta's eyes narrowed. "Seven days surrounded by demons? That's how you choose who joins?"
"It shows resolve," Jiro said firmly. "Skill matters, yes—but more than that, it proves you have the will to fight for others, no matter the cost. Every Hashira here has survived it."
Yuta looked down at his hands, gripping his sword. "So even though I've already fought demons… already bled… they still won't accept me without this?"
Jiro placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "They don't understand your power, Yuta. But if you walk the same path as the rest of us, they'll have no reason to deny you."
A long silence passed. Then Yuta nodded, his voice steady.
"Fine. If this is what it takes, I'll survive. I'll show them Rika and I aren't their enemies."
Rika's glow brightened faintly at his words, though sorrow lingered in her eyes. "Then I'll fight with you, always."
Jiro gave a faint smile. "Then prepare yourself. Tomorrow night, the trial begins."
---
The mountain loomed the following evening, slopes glowing faintly with wisteria blossoms swaying under a pale moon. Dozens of candidates gathered nervously at the base, clutching swords. Fear clung to them like mist.
Yuta stood among them, calm but restless, ignoring the hushed whispers directed his way.
"They're afraid of you," Rika murmured softly.
"I know," Yuta whispered back. "That's why I have to survive this. To change it."
---
"Um… excuse me."
Yuta turned. A boy with dark red hair tied back stood nearby, wearing a green-and-black checkered haori. His brown eyes were kind, but carried sorrow deep within.
"I'm Kamado Tanjiro," the boy said, bowing respectfully. "Are you… nervous?"
Yuta blinked at him, startled by the sincerity. Most stared at him with suspicion, but this boy… simply cared.
"A little," Yuta admitted. He glanced at the trembling candidates. "Not for me. For them."
Tanjiro's expression softened. "I feel the same. I'll protect as many as I can."
"You're… strange," Yuta murmured.
Tanjiro tilted his head. "Strange?"
"Not bad strange. Good strange."
Tanjiro chuckled gently, then tilted his head again. "And you are…?"
Yuta froze, realizing he'd forgotten the most basic courtesy. Heat rose to his cheeks.
"Ah—sorry. I'm Okkotsu Yuta."
Tanjiro's smile widened. "It's good to meet you, Yuta."
---
A deep gong echoed across the courtyard, silencing the murmurs.
The proctor's voice rang out, cold and sharp:
"Final Selection begins now. From this moment, you will endure seven nights on Mount Fujikasane. No aid will come. Return here alive at dawn on the seventh day, and you will earn the right to join the Demon Slayer Corps."
The gates creaked open with a long, heavy groan. The scent of wisteria faded instantly, replaced by the cold, feral stench of demons waiting within.
Tanjiro glanced at Yuta one last time, resolve burning in his eyes. "See you on the other side, Yuta."
Yuta nodded firmly, his grip tightening on his sword. "We will."
Rika whispered in his mind, her voice soft but strong. "Together."
And with that, the two boys stepped into the forest of shadows, where the trial of survival awaited.