Deep within Mount Fujikasane, away from the protection of the wisteria and the noise of the crowd, Izumo Tatsuya moved alone through the darkening woods.
The only sounds were the rustle of leaves in the wind and the soft crunch of his footsteps on the forest floor. In this sudden silence, his thoughts drifted.
How strong am I, really? Tatsuya wondered.
At Mount Momoyama, his master's feedback was usually "Fool!" or "Full of openings!" A "Passable" was high praise. He could hold his own for dozens of rounds against the old man, but he knew Kuwajima was holding back an ocean of power.
Still... he gripped his Nichirin blade, feeling the power of Thunder Breathing flowing through him. Even if the old man was taking it easy on me, the fact that I could spar with him for that long says something. Compared to the other kids out there, I'm definitely not weak. In fact... I'm likely very strong!
His confidence wasn't arrogance; it was the foundation built on months of sweat and bruises.
"Whether I'm a thoroughbred or a mule, I'll find out tonight. Time to see some real results."
"These demons in Mount Fujikasane are kept here as whetstones. They go years without drinking blood or eating flesh, so their strength probably isn't much to write home about—likely weaker than their kin on the outside who feast regularly."
"However, precisely because they are starving, this annual 'Buffet Day' is a fatal temptation for them. To get a single bite of human flesh, they'll definitely put their lives on the line. They'll be crazier and more ruthless than usual."
This hunger-driven madness was likely a greater threat to inexperienced trainees than the demons' actual strength. Without combat experience, it would be easy to lose one's head under such a frantic assault.
"Starting the selection at noon was basically a half-day grace period."
Tatsuya looked up at the sky, shattered into pieces by the canopy. Sunlight still managed to filter through.
"The meaning is obvious: give us time to adapt to the environment and prepare mentally so we don't drop dead from fear the moment darkness hits. The real test starts the second the sun goes down."
Running around like a headless fly during the day was out of the question. As for finding a hole or a crevice to hide in for seven days...
"Hide? That would be a total disgrace to Master. I'd probably get an 'education' by his cane the moment I got back. Not Izumo Tatsuya's style!"
With that, Tatsuya made his decision. He scanned the area and quickly found a dry, open spot shaded by several large boulders. It was relatively hidden but offered a clear line of sight to observe any movement nearby.
"Alright, this is the spot!" He patted his seat and sat cross-legged, placing his Nichirin Sword across his knees and closing his eyes.
"Conserve energy, reach peak condition. For tonight's 'feast,' I plan to be a 'picky diner' and properly taste what these starving demons are made of!"
He wasn't fully asleep but in a semi-meditative state. Thunder Breathing circulated through his body in a steady, efficient rhythm—recovering his stamina while sensing every subtle change in the environment. The scent brought by the wind, the distant faint noises... they were like stones dropped into a calm lake, sending ripples through his heart.
He waited. He waited for the curtain of night to fall, for the hunt to begin—except, in his plan, he was never the prey.
Night fell, and the mountain wind shifted...
The last sliver of light was swallowed by the inky darkness. Mount Fujikasane was plunged into deathly silence, save for the wail of the wind through the treetops, sounding like the whispers of the dead.
The silence didn't last long.
"AAAAAAHHHHH—!!!"
A shrill, distorted scream, like silk being torn by a blade, exploded from somewhere in the forest, instantly shattering the peace of the night! The absolute terror and despair in that voice officially raised the curtain on this bloody hunt.
Izumo Tatsuya, who had been semi-meditating, snapped his eyes open. His gaze was as cold and sharp as a blade. He stood up instantly, like a leopard ready to pounce.
"It's starting. Quite a loud opening act... but in this pitch black, I can't find the 'customer' just by a scream."
He didn't hesitate. With a flicker of movement, he sped toward the general direction of the scream. The explosive power of Thunder Breathing turned him into a blurred shadow in the night, darting through the rugged forest.
As he neared the source, just before bursting through the thickets, Tatsuya stopped abruptly. He didn't show himself. In the deep woods at night, a scream could come from anywhere—or it could be a demon's trap.
"Unclear situation. I should see how many 'tables' are set first. I don't want to crash head-first into a demon's nest!"
Thunder Breathing: Total Concentration...
He took a deep breath, switching his breathing pattern into an extremely refined mode—the Seventh Form!
"God of Thunder: Silent Listening!"
This was an original technique he created based on his understanding of thunderous vibrations and his own extraordinary perception. Upon activation, his blood flowed rapidly toward his head—specifically to the auditory nerves—forcing his hearing range to expand. Nothing in the vicinity could escape his ears.
It reminded him of the first time he successfully pulled off this move. The usually stoic Master Kuwajima had actually lost his composure, gripping Tatsuya's shoulders and muttering: "Good! Good! Tatsuya, you brat... you've actually found your own path!"
That was the only time he remembered his master losing his cool like that—the highest recognition of his unique talent. (Of course, he wouldn't mention a certain future junior who would eventually treat this technique as a passive ability...)
A 3D world made entirely of sound unfolded in Tatsuya's mind. He discarded sight, relying solely on "hearing" to construct the battlefield.
Nearby: the scuttling of insects in the soil, the rustle of owl feathers, the panicked scurry of a wild rat sixty meters away... Background noise. Filter it.
Slightly further: a hundred meters to the left, in a hidden cave, the sound of two people holding their breath with chattering teeth. Trainees, scared to death. Filter it.
Directly ahead: less than fifty meters away, the heavy, frantic gasping of a young man and his stumbling footsteps. He's exhausted and terrified. Along with his footsteps... the rhythmic 'patter' of liquid hitting leaves or dirt. Left side of the body. Conclusion: He's injured, likely a bleeding arm or leg.
Behind him: a heavier, sticky, dragging footstep. The creature's breath is a disgusting 'ho-ho' sound, like a punctured bellows. Most importantly, the sound of arms swinging... that's not the sound of two arms. Too many, too chaotic. Conclusion: A mutated demon with more than two arms. Likely three or four.
"One injured rookie, one multi-armed mutant... Intel gathered."
God of Thunder: Silent Listening deactivated. A faint dizziness hit him as the blood receded from his head—a side effect, but manageable.
"The hunt... begins!"
Tatsuya's eyes narrowed. The ground shook slightly, and his figure was enveloped in pale golden electricity.
"Thunder Breathing, First Form—"
"Thunderclap and Flash!"
He didn't choose a complex path. He went for the simplest, most direct, and fastest linear lunge. Like a bolt of true lightning rending the night, the golden trail crossed dozens of meters in a heartbeat, flashing precisely between the panicked boy and the four-armed demon hunting him.
The blade flashed like a spark and vanished.
Clang!
My name is Kenta. I'm an examinee, and I'm about to die!
My left arm hurts so much; the blood won't stop! Why me? I just wanted a place to hide. How did I run into that monster? It... it actually has four arms! I couldn't cut them all, and it took my sword!
The way it looks at me... like a piece of meat... Run! I have to run!
My mind is blank. I don't even know where my sword went. The foul wind is getting closer. Those heavy footsteps sound like a death knell. I can hear the eager gurgling in its throat.
It's over. I can't escape!
"No... don't eat me!"
I screamed in despair, my foot catching on a root. I face-planted into a pile of weeds. It's over... I'm sorry, Master. I'm sorry, Mom, Dad, Sis... I'm going to die.
BOOM!
A short but deafening roar of thunder exploded right behind me! My ears were ringing. Is this a hallucination before death? The chasing stopped. The monster's footsteps, its breathing—everything was gone.
Terrified, I turned my head by pure instinct.
I don't think I'll ever forget this sight as long as I live.
The four-armed demon was still in a pouncing stance, but on its neck, there was a smooth, charred slash mark that was still sizzling with faint smoke. Then, before my eyes, its body disintegrated into ash, scattering in the night wind.
Standing slightly behind where the monster had been was a boy in a black haori. He was casually flicking his Nichirin Sword, which was still humming slightly. He had an expression that was... almost relaxed. Even a bit bored. Like he had just swatted a mosquito.
"Is that it? What a waste of two extra arms."
"The... where's the demon?" I'm an idiot. I saw it die, but my brain couldn't keep up with my eyes. My voice was dry and trembling.
The boy in black sheathed his sword with a sharp click. He pointed his chin at the pile of ash on the ground. "Right there."
"...Oh."
His gaze fell on my bleeding arm. He frowned. "Don't just daze off, colleague. The medicine and bandages from the Corps aren't for decoration. Patch yourself up."
He paused, scanning the dark forest, and added meaningfully, "In this mountain... the ones waiting for 'dinner' aren't limited to just that one."
Before I could even thank him, he vanished like a shadow into the night, leaving behind a faint scent of ozone and my pounding heart.
I stared at the spot where he vanished, then at my arm. I snapped out of it. Right, bandages! I fumbled for my medkit. The relief of surviving hit me like a tidal wave, making me slump to the ground. That guy... who was he? He was too strong!
Maybe... the Demon Slayer Corps isn't a place for someone like me.