In the current Demon Slayer Corps, there exist five 'Hashira.'
They are the five swordsmen of the highest rank, the literal pillars who support the Corps. In other words, they are specialists in demon extermination. They are titled according to the style they employ: the Flame Hashira, the Water Hashira, the Wind Hashira, the Roaring Hashira, and the Stone Hashira.
One could say they have reached the pinnacle of their respective styles. They are also a group of geniuses who, after observing the Sun Breathing I had disseminated, managed to imitate its essence and merge it with their own techniques to create entirely new Breathing styles within a mere week.
Even Rengoku is such an eccentric character... I wonder what the others are like...
Furthermore, I was curious about the man they call 'The Master,' who leads them all.
"The other Hashira have already arrived."
After finishing his guidance, the servant bowed deeply and withdrew.
Turning my gaze toward the garden of the estate—the venue for what was called the Hashira Meeting—I saw five people waiting.
"Hey. You're too late, Rengoku."
A young man with a striking scar across his left eye spoke first.
"Namu Amida Butsu."
A monk, towering in height with impressive dark circles under his eyes, chanted.
"Now, now~ He's late because he brought the Tsuguko-dono with him, isn't he?"
A woman with a gentle impression and a constant, beaming smile noted.
"My, my... I'm truly glad to see ye've come back in one piece."
A long-haired young man with slit eyes and a thick dialect remarked.
"Ho, so you're the Tsuguko Rengoku has been talking about."
Finally, there was a middle-aged man with only one arm.
These were the Hashira. They might not be as bombastic as Rengoku, but each certainly possessed a distinct individuality.
By the way, didn't they say there were five Hashira?
"Have you been well, Banda-dono! But you are not in the best of health, you needn't have come personally..."
"It is fine, quite fine. I came both to see this Tsuguko of yours, the subject of so many rumors, and to offer my personal gratitude. Do not trouble yourself over it."
The middle-aged man called Banda turned his gaze toward me and opened his mouth.
"My name is Banda Nagare. I heard from my disciple that you provided immense help. As their master, I offer you my thanks. Truly, thank you."
Ah, Amano-san's Cultivator was said to be close with Rengoku; so this man is Amano-san's master?
"It was nothing special."
"Modest, as well. You are quite different from the 'celebrity' I had imagined."
"Celebrity?"
"During the Final Selection, you ensured there were zero casualties and effectively wiped out the seeds of the demons on Mount Fujikasane, did you not? You are already a celebrity within the Corps. And, though it is a secret from the rank-and-file, the Breathing. Was it not you who passed it to Rengoku?"
Just then.
"The Master of the Mansion has arrived."
Accompanied by a woman's clear voice, the sound of slow, steady footsteps echoed from within the house.
A man emerged slowly, supported by a woman.
Despite being called 'The Master,' he was remarkably young. Early twenties at most.
Half of his face was covered in scars, and his skin was as pale as a man on the verge of death.
They said he was frail, but he looked as if he could pass away tomorrow without it being a surprise.
Yet he refused to see me immediately and made me wait half a month? This goes beyond kindness—it borders on a different kind of madness.
"Good morning. The weather is truly fine today. It brings me immense joy to welcome this semi-annual Hashira Meeting without a single member needing replacement."
He possessed a mysterious, ethereal voice that brought a sense of calm and stability to the mind and body.
As soon as he finished speaking, all the Hashira showed their respect in unison.
Seeing this, I adopted the same posture.
"We are equally delighted to see that you are faring well, Master. However, it is a pity, but this old man can no longer stand on the front lines and has stepped down from his position... There is no need to treat me like a Hashira."
The elder, Banda, received the Master‘s greeting on behalf of the Hashira.
"I have not forgotten the years of devotion you gave to the Corps. And have you not continued to labor as a Cultivator since your retirement? Please, do not let it weigh on you."
The more I listen, the more I feel pulled in. This Ubuyashiki fellow... is his ability some kind of absolute hypnosis?
"Are you Tsugikuni Michikatsu? The Tsuguko Rengoku has taken in, and the noble soul who bestowed Breathing upon our Corps."
The Master turned his gaze toward me and spoke.
"I am Ubuyashiki Kazuha, the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps. On behalf of the entire organization, I offer you my gratitude."
Ubuyashiki Kazuha moved to kneel and bow slowly.
"Master!"
The Hashira moved to stop him. I felt the same; why would a man who looks ready to keel over at any moment try to perform such a bow?
"That is unnecessary, Master. I did not teach the Breathing style just to receive a bow. I simply found the demons distasteful, so please do not concern yourself."
"I cannot do that. Thanks to the Breathing you provided, many more lives could be saved, and we have moved dozens of steps closer to our long-cherished wish. Compared to that, this meager body of mine is of no consequence."
I truly cannot tell what this man is thinking. If he takes this stance, I can't even argue with him about the Final Selection.
No, I must argue. The more I see this man's words and actions, the more I feel a sense of dissonance. How could a possessor of such a mindset simply stand by and watch that absurdly unreasonable Final Selection? It makes even less sense now.
"Then let me ask one question. I want to hear it. Why does a person like you simply condone the nature of that Final Selection?"
"Hey, you."
"Do you have no sense of etiquette?"
"..."
Three of the men showed their displeasure at my blunt approach.
The woman just kept smiling, so I couldn't tell what she was thinking. Rengoku was flustered, and Banda seemed to have his own thoughts on the matter, closing his eyes without taking a side.
Still, what needs to be said must be said. How many people have died because of such an irrational trial?
It felt as though more people had died in that selection than in actual demon hunting.
I wanted to know the reason for condoning such an inefficient trial where it wasn't even clear what was being selected.
"The Final Selection—just what do you intend to see through such a farce? Why do you let it continue? Is it for the cliché reason that if one cannot pass such a trial, fighting a demon would merely be a dog's death? Or is it out of the irresponsibility of simply following what the predecessors have done?"
The moment I stood up to speak further, a howling gale, sharp enough to shred anything in its path, rushed toward me.
However.
"Lower your voice. Do not raise your tone in such a manner."
Hooo.
Moon Breathing, First Form: Dark Moon, Evening Palace.
I swung my blade while still in its scabbard to block that storm.
The tempest that had lunged as if to tear everything apart was easily repelled by the 'moonlight' I swung.
Because it was an area-of-effect attack, the pebbles in the garden flew everywhere, but the slit-eyed youth used a fluid swordsmanship to deflect every stone headed toward Ubuyashiki.
The source of the storm was the young man with the scar over his left eye. Judging by the dull thud of scabbards clashing, it seemed he hadn't intended to kill me.
The youth stared at me, seemingly unable to believe that his attack had been blocked so easily.
It was only natural. While the Hashira might be superior in terms of experience and swordsmanship as demon slayers, they had been practicing Breathing for less than a month. I, on the other hand, have used it for four years. If you include the time with Sun Breathing, it's been seven years.
In terms of proficiency in Breathing—the very thing that turns a user into a superhuman—there was an overwhelming gap between us.
"Shall I tell you... what makes me different from the likes of you? It is our caliber."