Chapter 18: The Final Selection Arrives
Since he no longer needed to conserve energy against potential daytime ambushes, Kanzaki Akira ran at his absolute top speed. By lunchtime the next day, he had already arrived back at Mount Momoyama.
Perhaps it was the change in his state of mind after securing his first kill, but his Breathing Technique had improved yet again. Not only was he faster, but he didn't feel the slightest bit of fatigue after running the entire way.
He had ventured out, successfully paid respects to his grandfather, and completed his first demon hunt—and now, with his breathing further enhanced, Akira was practically bursting with excitement. He celebrated his return by kicking open the dining room door.
"Old man, I'm back!"
Thud.
His triumphant shout was immediately followed by a dull, heavy sound, as if a sack of rice had just hit the floor.
Looking down, Akira saw a very familiar figure sitting on the ground, rubbing his forehead and glaring up at him with pure, unadulterated fury.
"Master! Are you okay? Does it hurt? Are you injured?" Akira scrambled forward to help him up, his address instantly shifting from the casual "old man" to the formal "Master." It was a desperate gambit, born of either genuine concern or a calculated attempt to awaken the old man's "paternal love" and thus avoid a well-deserved beating.
After all, from the looks of it, Kuwajima Jigorō had been walking toward the door just as Akira's foot connected with it. He had likely heard his student returning and was on his way to greet him.
"You little brat!" Kuwajima rubbed his forehead with one hand and used the other to rap Akira sharply on the head.
"Ouch!"
Sensing the lack of any real force behind the blow, Akira knew his master wasn't truly angry. He immediately clutched his head, putting on an exaggerated show of agony.
"Hmph!"
Kuwajima gave a light snort and turned toward the kitchen. His disciple had returned earlier than expected, which meant the lunch he'd prepared wouldn't be enough. He needed to add more dishes.
"I'll help!" Akira immediately chased after him.
...
After the two had enjoyed a sumptuous lunch, Kuwajima Jigorō finally began to ask about serious matters.
"Alright, out with it. Why are you back earlier than planned? And you look like you've stumbled into some good fortune."
"Your disciple completed his first demon kill last night!" Akira proudly announced his achievement, recounting the circumstances in detail.
"Oh?" Kuwajima glanced at Akira, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. From the moment Akira had burst through the door to the time they spent cooking together, he had carefully checked to make sure his student didn't have so much as a scratch on him.
"Let me see your blade."
The surprise gave way to a stern focus. Kuwajima held out his hand for the Nichirin Blade that Akira had placed beside him.
Akira handed it over. Kuwajima drew the sword from its sheath, his gaze tracing the edge with an expert's eye before he finally nodded. "Not bad. There's almost no visible wear. A clean, decisive, fatal blow. It seems your swordsmanship training wasn't just for show."
"Weren't you watching from the sidelines every time I practiced? Don't you know if it's for show or not?" Akira muttered under his breath.
"Is practice the same as actual combat?!" Kuwajima's tone sharpened considerably. "Many can perform flawlessly during training, but when they actually face a demon, they can't even hold their swords steady. What do you think the point of the Final Selection is, then?"
He leaned forward, his expression grave. "Judging purely by swordsmanship, any Cultivator can determine if a disciple's skills are sufficient to handle an ordinary demon. But until they experience a real battle, no one knows how much of their strength they can actually bring to bear when facing a true monster."
Sheathing the blade with a soft click, Kuwajima looked at Akira, his gaze now filled with deep gratification. "Fortunately, you perform well under pressure."
"Of course!" Akira lifted his chin, a proud grin spreading across his face.
Seeing him get cocky, Kuwajima immediately unleashed a torrent of criticism.
"But you, you brat! You encountered a demon and didn't report it! You went off to slay it without any information, logistical support, or backup! You're not even a formal swordsman yet—what were you planning? To skip the ranks and go straight to being a Hashira?! You were lucky this time. You met a weak demon. What if you had run into a strong one? What if it had been one of the Twelve Kizuki?!"
He punctuated every sentence by poking Akira's forehead, forcing the boy to shrink back until he was nearly hiding under the dining table.
"You said it yourself, I'm not a formal swordsman," Akira mumbled, his voice tinged with grievance. "I don't know the channels to contact the Demon Slayer Corps, and I don't know where the Wisteria Houses are distributed. How was I supposed to report it...?"
In truth, he had simply forgotten. While he didn't know the specific contacts in that small town, a Wisteria House could be identified by its Wisteria Flower Crest, which wouldn't have been that hard to find. As for proving his identity, the Nichirin Blade unique to the Corps was the best proof there was.
However, Kuwajima Jigorō froze upon hearing Akira's words.
It was true. The Demon Slayer Corps did not provide contact channels for unofficial members. This usually wasn't an issue. Ordinary apprentices wouldn't go anywhere near places rumored to have demons. If they did encounter one, there would be no time to contact anyone anyway. And for someone like Akira, with his outstanding talent, he would simply slay the demon, removing the need for a separate report. His Cultivator would inform the Corps, and the Kakushi would handle the aftermath.
Besides, Akira had already written a letter to Ubuyashiki Kagaya when he passed through the town below Mount Momoyama.
"By the way," Akira said, leaning in curiously now that he sensed the lecture was over, "you can tell how the combat went just by looking at the blade? You're that amazing?"
"Hmph! Of course." Pride was written all over Kuwajima's face. "You little brat, remember this. The sword in a swordsman's hand is no less important than his second life. Your eyes are special, so you must pay even more attention to your blade. Watch its wear, its flexibility, and its sharpness. The moment you notice a decline in any of these, it needs maintenance or replacement."
His expression turned somber. "Since the founding of the Demon Slayer Corps, the vast majority of swordsmen have died with their blades broken. I won't say they would have survived if their swords hadn't broken—after all, a demon capable of shattering their steel is already far stronger than them. But with a sword in hand, they at least have the ability to counterattack, the possibility of finding a sliver of hope in a desperate situation."
"The smiths of the Swordsmith Village hold Nichirin Blades in the highest regard. Beyond their professional pride, they share a similar conviction."
"They pour all their heart and soul into every single blade, just to make it a bit sharper, a bit tougher. They do this because they don't want a swordsman to be sacrificed because their sword couldn't withstand the battle. They lack the ability to fight on the front lines, so they do their absolute best to ensure the swords in our hands do not become our weakness."
With a sharp shing, Kuwajima drew his own Nichirin Blade. He began to explain, pointing out the tiny, almost invisible patterns along the cutting edge. "For now, I'll use my own blade as an example to teach you how to judge a sword's condition."
"Of course," he continued, "what I'm telling you are the characteristics of this specific blade. Different swordsmiths have different forging techniques, and the feedback you get from the details will vary. What you need to do is use those gifted eyes and that clever brain of yours to find the patterns of wear for your own blade."
"I understand, Master."
...
While Kuwajima Jigorō was instructing Kanzaki Akira...
At the Ubuyashiki Estate, Kagaya stood at the door, holding the letter sent by Akira and looking up at the sky. A rare sense of ease had settled into his voice.
"He can already slay demons independently? Akira's talent is indeed very high..."
The reason for his improved mood wasn't just Akira's accomplishment, but also the progress of Himejima Gyomei, who had come to the Demon Slayer Corps with him.
Himejima's growth had been exceptionally fast. In less than half a year, he had skyrocketed through the ranks, ascending from a novice Mizunoto to the rank of Hinoe, and he wasn't far from becoming a Kinoto. It was highly likely he would become a Hashira within the next six months.
Compared to Akira, who could only slay ordinary demons for now, Himejima, who was on the verge of becoming a Hashira, was the one who could truly alleviate the Demon Slayer Corps' current manpower shortage.
Ubuyashiki Amane stood beside her husband, happy for his rare good mood yet simultaneously worried about the faint purple markings that had already begun to appear on his forehead—the telltale sign of the curse.
According to the history of the Ubuyashiki family, when those markings spread to cover the entire face, it would signal the end of his life., as the curse spread, Kagaya's body would begin an irreversible decline.
Right now, the marks were still faint and could be hidden by his hair, but their very appearance heralded the start of the countdown on Ubuyashiki Kagaya's life.
Unless Muzan could be killed, that countdown would not stop.
Sometimes, Amane found herself questioning the gods in her heart: why did they cast a curse upon the Ubuyashiki family, yet not punish Muzan himself?
But the gods never responded.
...
The days slipped by in a quiet routine. In the blink of an eye, another half a year had passed. During this time, nothing particularly noteworthy happened, save for Himejima Gyomei officially becoming the Stone Hashira.
And with that, the annual Final Selection was once again upon them.
This time, Kanzaki Akira would be a participant.
The day before he was set to depart, Kuwajima Jigorō's heart softened, and he found himself wanting to persuade Akira to wait another year. But when he saw the unwavering determination in his student's eyes, all his words of dissuasion transformed into final instructions and blessings.
In truth, he wasn't worried about whether Akira could pass the selection. More than three months ago, Akira had truly mastered Total Concentration: Constant. Since then, he had fine-tuned several forms of Thunder Breathing, adapting them to better suit his own fighting style.
Judging solely from the strength he displayed in daily training, the current Kanzaki Akira was not much weaker than Kuwajima himself had been when he first became a Hashira. Kuwajima had no sufficient reason to stop him from participating.
The reason Akira insisted on participating, besides wanting to enter the Demon Slayer Corps early to help his future plans, was more important: he needed to deal with the Hand Demon on Fujikasane Mountain, a monster whose strength far exceeded that of a typical 'starter' demon.
Because he had taken on such a talented disciple, Kuwajima had once written a letter to another old friend—also a Cultivator—to brag fiercely. Not long ago, that friend had written back, bragging in turn about taking on two very talented disciples of his own: Sabito and Tomioka Giyuu.
The man who had written to Kuwajima was the former Water Hashira, Urokodaki Sakonji, who had become a Cultivator more than a year before he had.
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