Seeing Nezuko resist the temptation of his blood, Shinazugawa Sanemi clicked his tongue. Though he clearly didn't like it, even he had to admit she'd passed the test.
Before he'd ever joined the Corps—or even wielded a Nichirin Blade—Sanemi had hunted demons using nothing but his own blood.
His marechi blood was potent enough to intoxicate ordinary demons into delirium. He'd bind them, wait for dawn, and let sunlight finish the job.
It had always worked. Every time.
So for someone—a demon, no less—to resist that scent… even he couldn't deny it.
Fine. I'll believe it this once.
For all his fury, there was something almost tsundere about Sanemi.
In the original timeline, after Muzan's defeat, he'd even apologized to Nezuko when she turned human again.
And she, smiling gently, told him she had already forgotten and not to worry about it.
In the few years he lived on after awakening his Mark, the two even became friends.
The Master's calm voice interrupted the heavy silence.
"Now then," he said, clapping his hands softly. "Giyu and Shinobu mentioned in their report that this young lady defeated a Lower Moon alone. By our Corps' standards, that already qualifies her for the title of Hashira."
That revelation hit the room like thunder.
The assembled Hashira turned toward Chika with newfound respect—and no small amount of curiosity.
The reactions came quickly:
Rengoku Kyojuro (Flame Hashira): "Splendid! A truly passionate spirit!"
Uzui Tengen (Sound Hashira): "Flashy! So damn flashy!"
Kanroji Mitsuri (Love Hashira): "She's so cool! So beautiful!"
Iguro Obanai (Serpent Hashira): "Lower Moon Five… hm. Passable, I suppose."
Sanemi: "So that's why..."
Chika could feel their eyes on her—and hated it.
She had never liked being the center of attention, not in her old world, and not now.
Even the body's original owner had been a homebody, preferring to handle chores and paperwork rather than bask in praise.
The Master smiled gently. "Since no one objects, let us proceed. It seems this era will witness the birth of a new Hashira. We once had nine… now ten. Perhaps soon, even eleven."
His voice trembled with restrained joy.
"This may be the worst of times—but it is also our golden age!"
The excitement made him cough, crimson spattering his hand.
He wasn't wrong.
The average skill of Demon Slayers had been declining year after year. Upper Moons had not been slain in centuries. Some whispered that the Corps was dying out entirely.
And yet, despite that decay—this generation had birthed nine Hashira.
Nearly all had risen through slaying Lower Moons.
For the Master, this was the Corps' final, brightest flame.
If even this generation cannot kill Muzan, he thought, then the Demon Slayer Corps will fade to ash.
He turned his gaze to Chika.
"Chika, was it? You use Water Breathing, but we already have a Water Hashira. You may choose your own title."
"Eh?" Chika blinked. A title? Now?
Her mind went blank.
Water? Taken. Fire? Too cliché. Sun? Definitely not. Summer Pillar? That just sounds like a vacation spot…
Dozens of bad ideas flashed through her mind like a fever dream, and she quickly shook her head.
The Master chuckled softly. "No rush. You can decide later."
And just like that, the meeting—this "commotion" at Headquarters—came to an end.
Chika and her companions were given quarters within the estate—one of the many small houses assigned to the Hashira.
Unlike the others, though, she had no attendants or Tsuguko of her own.
Just Tanjiro, Nezuko, Zenitsu, and Inosuke.
"By the way," Chika said, glancing at Zenitsu and Inosuke, "why are you two here?"
Zenitsu, who had been staring dreamily at Nezuko, jolted as though struck by lightning.
He hadn't really meant to follow them—it had just… happened. Instinct, perhaps.
But no way was he going to admit that.
"I—I'm training under Tanjiro! I want to become stronger!" Zenitsu declared, pumping his fist with heroic intensity.
Chika raised an eyebrow. She almost believed him. Almost.
Sensing her doubt, Zenitsu shot desperate glances at his friends.
"Uh… help me out here?"
Tanjiro smiled kindly. "He's telling the truth, sis. I've been teaching them Total Concentration—Constant."
Inosuke tilted his head. "Why are you squinting like that? Got something in your eye?"
Watching their antics, Chika couldn't help but chuckle.
They were chaotic, but oddly comforting.
"Then train hard," she said. "With Tanjiro teaching, I'm sure you'll manage."
She exhaled softly, fatigue settling in.
I'll rest for a bit. Then… I'll need to meet the other Hashira.
Lying down in her room, Chika's last thought before sleep drifted toward the near future.
The Mugen Train arc… It's not far now.
This time, I'll save Rengoku.
Outside, Zenitsu clutched his chest in relief.
"Thanks, Tanjiro."
"Don't mention it. I just told the truth."
Tanjiro's ever-gentle smile somehow carried the pressure of a mountain.
Nezuko, sitting nearby, was quietly polishing her wooden training sword.
Zenitsu froze.
If he backed out now, his chance to impress her would vanish forever.
No fear!
He clenched his fists, inhaled deeply, and shouted, "I'll master Constant Breathing if it kills me!"
Only for Inosuke to tackle him to the floor, yelling,
"Come on! Come on! Let's master that thing right now!"
Zenitsu wailed, "I take it back—not like this!"
And so began the strangest "training" session the Corps Headquarters had ever seen.