Chapter 22: Passing
Dawn broke over the third night of the Final Selection, chasing away the last of the shadows. After dispatching a few more unfortunate demons that had crossed their path, Kanzaki Akira and Makomo found a quiet, open space to rest, their backs against the rough bark of a large tree.
Even with strength that far surpassed the requirements of this trial, three consecutive nights of battle had taken their toll. A deep weariness had settled into their bones.
"Um, Makomo..." Akira began, his voice a low murmur in the quiet morning.
"Hmm?" she hummed, her head tilted towards him.
"Could you take off your mask for a bit?" Although he remembered her face from the memories of his past life, there was always a gulf between a two-dimensional image on a screen and a living, breathing person. Akira found himself curious to see the real Makomo.
"Oh, this?" she said, her hands moving to the fox mask. "Sorry, I'm just so used to wearing it. It feels a bit rude, hiding my face from the person who saved my life."
"It's not rude at all," Akira said, waving a hand dismissively. He watched as she untied the cord, and then he froze.
The face revealed beneath the mask was even gentler than he'd imagined. A pair of deep green eyes, so clear they seemed to hold the soft light of a tranquil pond, gazed back at him. She had a small, delicate nose and lips that curved into a subtle, sweet smile. Faint, willow-leaf eyebrows framed her features, and a touch of lingering baby fat on her cheeks only added to her disarming cuteness.
"It seems my appearance didn't disappoint you, Kanzaki-kun," Makomo said, her eyes crinkling as she gave him a playful wink, noticing his stunned silence.
In that moment, she didn't look like a swordswoman capable of felling demons. She looked like the impossibly charming girl from next door.
"You are indeed very beautiful," Akira replied with a simple nod. His expression held none of the shyness Makomo had expected, a fact that caused a flicker of disappointment to cross her face.
'Hmm?'Akira thought, a silent question mark forming in his mind.'Oh my,'Makomo mused to herself.'He's so strong, yet he looks so young. It just makes you want to tease him.'
Admiration for beauty was only human nature, and Akira felt no reason to be embarrassed by it. Though his romantic experience across two lifetimes was precisely zero, he wasn't so green as to blush at the sight of a pretty girl.
Besides, while Makomo's warmth towards him stemmed primarily from the life-saving grace he'd shown her, she couldn't deny that his handsome, well-defined features also played a part. No young woman, after all, would be so quick to joke around with a scruffy, hulking stranger.
"By the way, Kanzaki-kun, how old are you?" Makomo asked. She studied his face, which still held a trace of boyishness, yet his words and actions were anything but childish. The contradiction made her intensely curious.
"I'll be fourteen in half a year."
"Not even fourteen..." Makomo fell silent.
What had she been doing at that age? Oh, right. She had just been chosen by her Cultivator.
She thought of her own fifteenth birthday, which had passed not long ago. Then she looked at the boy beside her, who wasn't even fourteen, and recalled the clean, effortless way he had decapitated a demon that could have easily taken her life. For the first time, Makomo truly understood the vast disparity that could exist between people.
"What's wrong? Has this beautiful lady been struck by my talent?"
Seeing Makomo lost in her thoughts, Akira seized the opportunity to return the teasing from earlier.
"Pfft—" A laugh escaped her. "Yes, I really didn't expect Little Brother Kanzaki to be so gifted..." Noticing his slightly more childish side, Makomo couldn't help but giggle, but she quickly caught herself, realizing she might have been a bit rude. "Ah, sorry, Kanzaki-kun, I didn't mean to..."
"It's fine," he said with a soft smile. "It seems you're older than me, so just call me Akira. There's no need for 'Kanzaki-kun.' We're friends now, aren't we?"
"Mm!" Makomo nodded vigorously, her green eyes bright.
"Makomo."
"Hmm?"
"Has anyone ever told you that your smile is quite beautiful?"
She blinked, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "Hmm... Strictly speaking, Akira, you're the first person to ever specifically compliment my smile."
"Ah," he said, his own smile widening. "Then that's truly an honor."
...
Perched on the branch of a tall tree, Akira watched the girl below. Makomo moved like a graceful dancer amidst a clumsy encirclement of several demons.
"Water Breathing, Third Form: Flowing Dance."
Her blade drew a fluid, winding path through the air, and in a single, elegant motion, she decapitated all of them. His eyes were filled with sincere praise.
Makomo's talent was obvious; otherwise, she never would have been able to suppress the Hand Demon to the point where it had to resort to verbal taunts to turn the tide.
Of course, she was still a world away from Akira himself. His eyes were simply too exceptional, a gift beyond compare.
Right now, for instance, Akira had already absorbed every minute detail of her technique. With a moment of contemplation, he could imitate her movements, even the rhythm of her Breathing Technique. With a bit more practice, he was confident he could master Water Breathing entirely.
At the same time, this observation led him to contemplate his own Thunder Breathing. He had already mastered its forms and developed a personal fighting style by linking and combining its techniques. But through that mastery, he had also discovered its shortcomings.
Thunder Breathing was all about speed. Extreme speed was what Akira desired most, but he had to admit its one critical drawback: it was too straightforward. While blindingly fast, it lacked a certain nimbleness, a degree of adaptability. This was the inherent trade-off the style made in its pursuit of ultimate speed and explosive power.
Against an opponent of comparable strength, Thunder Breathing was more than sufficient. But if he were to face an enemy significantly stronger than himself, such direct techniques would likely be overwhelmed by sheer force. The style's lack of flexibility would make it difficult to even buy time for support to arrive. The only options would be to turn and run, or, like a certain hot-headed Hashira from the original story, rely on sheer, inhuman toughness to endure the punishment.
And unfortunately, the demon world had beings whose power crushed humans in a tiered, mathematical fashion—the Demon King, Muzan, and the top three Upper Ranks.
Upper Ranks Four through Six were beatable; their threat lay more in their tricky abilities. The top three, however, were monsters of pure, overwhelming power. In a head-on confrontation, even Himejima Gyomei, the strongest combatant on the human side, would not fare well.
As a member of the human side, Akira knew he would eventually have to face one or more of them. And he had yet to discover any hidden potential in himself to become someone who could endure immense punishment.
So, he began to ponder. He had to modify his Breathing Technique.
"How was that? I'm pretty amazing, right?"
Makomo flashed to his side, landing silently on the branch and interrupting the thoughts that had begun to spiral in his mind.
This was the final night of the Final Selection. Over the past few days, the two had casually saved a few other candidates; some chose to withdraw from the mountain, while others gritted their teeth and persevered.
From their high vantage point, they could already see the pale, fish-belly white of dawn staining the eastern horizon. The trial was about to end.
Soon, as the scattered survivors across Fujikasane Mountain waited with bated breath, the sun finally peeked over the horizon, its rays announcing the end of the seventh night.
A collective sigh of relief seemed to rise from the wisteria-laced forest. Some people even broke down in tears, celebrating their survival or grieving for the friends they had lost along the way.
Akira and Makomo exchanged a look and let out their own quiet sighs of relief. Although the trial's danger level had been low for them, maintaining constant vigilance for seven straight days had left them mentally exhausted.
"Let's go."
"Mm."
The two walked together, following the path back the way they had come. They occasionally passed other survivors, but no words were exchanged. A silent, weary understanding passed between them all.
They soon arrived at the assembly platform where they had begun. Ubuyashiki Kagaya, accompanied by his two young daughters, was already waiting. On the table before them lay a row of Nichirin ore, each piece of varying shape and size.
"Congratulations to all of you for passing the Final Selection," Kagaya's calm, gentle voice washed over them. "From this day forward, you are official swordsmen of the Demon Slayer Corps."
As his words fell, the Kasugai Crows that had been circling overhead descended one by one, each flying to land on the shoulder of its new master.
"These crows will be your important companions on your path to slaying demons. Please treat them well. Now, please step forward and choose your Nichirin ore. This is the material that will be used to forge your unique Nichirin Blade."
Akira stepped forward first. Most of the survivors had witnessed his strength, and no one dared to contend with him for the first choice.
As Akira approached Kagaya, he heard the master's soft voice say, "Thank you."
Akira met his gaze and smiled. "We're friends, aren't we?"
"Mm."
During their brief exchange, Akira reached out and picked a piece of Nichirin ore that simply felt right in his hand. One of the twins, Hinaki, made a mark on a list.
Makomo followed closely behind and chose her own piece, as did the other successful candidates.
"Once your Nichirin Blades are forged, they will be delivered to your residences by the swordsmiths," Kagaya explained. "For now, please return to your homes and wait patiently. After you receive your blades, your first missions will be issued, so please be prepared. I wish you all good fortune in battle."
With that, the nine survivors, including Akira and Makomo, departed one after another. Akira gave Kagaya a final wave before heading down the mountain path.
"Are you going straight back to Mount Sagiri?" Akira asked Makomo, who was walking beside him.
"Mm. Do you have something else in mind, Akira?"
"I want to visit Urokodaki-senpai at Mount Sagiri as well," Akira stated his plan plainly. "I'd like to learn Water Breathing." Since the idea of improving his Breathing Technique had taken root, he had to put it into practice. At the very least, he had to try.
"Eh?" Makomo looked at him, her expression laced with confusion. "But haven't you already mastered Thunder Breathing so well?"
"I want to improve my Thunder Breathing," he explained. "Learning other Breathing Techniques might provide some inspiration and new ideas."
Makomo immediately fell silent. She herself had yet to perfectly master Water Breathing, and here Akira was, already trying to improve upon a style he had clearly perfected. The gap between them felt wider than ever.
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