Demon Slayer: Dragon Hashira#7+8+9: The Final Selection, Candidates for Demon Slayers, The Blood-Red Greatsword

[Ding! Congratulations! Host has completed a Hidden Quest.]

[Hidden Quest: Earn Sakonji Urokodaki's Recognition.]

[Quest Complete. Reward: 7% Interdimensional Energy.]

[Current Interdimensional Energy: 7%]

Seven percent. A small number on paper, but it might as well have been a fortune.

If the system kept issuing quests at this rate, accumulating enough energy to return home was only a matter of time. He could see his mother again. His sister. Even that idiot Hayato.

The catch was that he'd have to wear a stranger's face—live under a different name. But that was a price worth paying.

He just hoped Hayato would still recognize him somehow. That stubborn bastard had always been perceptive when it mattered.

...

The next morning, Kaidō arrived at the training grounds before dawn. Urokodaki was already there, waiting with the patient stillness of a mountain.

Over the past few days, Urokodaki had observed his newest student with growing satisfaction. This boy possessed something rare—not just talent, but the discipline to temper it. If he survived the Final Selection, Kaidō would become one of the finest Hashira the Corps had ever seen.

Urokodaki was certain of it.

"You're here. Good. Today I'll teach you the complete Water Breathing technique."

He drew his sword in one fluid motion, the blade singing as it left the sheath.

"Water is the softest substance in nature, yet it can carve through stone given time. It adapts to any container, flows around any obstacle. Water Breathing reflects this philosophy—every strike follows elegant, flowing arcs. Flexibility and power in equal measure."

Urokodaki's stance shifted.

"I'll demonstrate all ten forms. How much you absorb depends entirely on you."

"Understood, Master!"

"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash."

"Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel."

"Water Breathing, Third Form: Flowing Dance."

"Water Breathing, Fourth Form: Striking Tide."

"Water Breathing, Fifth Form: Blessed Rain After the Drought."

"Water Breathing, Sixth Form: Whirlpool."

"Water Breathing, Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust."

"Water Breathing, Eighth Form: Waterfall Basin."

"Water Breathing, Ninth Form: Splashing Water Flow."

"Water Breathing, Tenth Form: Constant Flux."

Urokodaki sheathed his blade and turned to face his student.

"These are all ten forms of Water Breathing. I don't expect you to master everything immediately, but whatever you do learn, I want you to perfect. And if you can develop an eleventh form through your own insight..." He paused, thinking of Giyu. "That would make you truly exceptional."

"Master Urokodaki, may I demonstrate what I've learned? There are some aspects I'm uncertain about. I'd appreciate your guidance."

Urokodaki nodded, curious but tempering his expectations. Learning even half the forms on the first viewing would be remarkable. Anything more would be...

"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash."

"Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel."

Kaidō flowed through each technique with mechanical precision, his movements mirroring what he'd just witnessed. One form after another, until he'd executed all ten.

He lowered his blade and looked at Urokodaki. "How was that?"

Urokodaki said nothing.

The silence stretched long enough that Kaidō wondered if he'd somehow offended the old man. Then he realized—Urokodaki wasn't angry. He was stunned.

Every form, memorized and executed after a single viewing. The techniques were rough around the edges, yes, but the fundamentals were flawless. This wasn't talent. This was something beyond the conventional definition of genius.

"Master Urokodaki?"

"Ah—yes." Urokodaki's voice carried an unusual tremor. "You've... learned exceptionally well. There's roughness that only practice can smooth out, but with time, you'll master Water Breathing completely. I have nothing left to teach you."

"Actually, Master, I have a problem." Kaidō's expression turned troubled. "Water Breathing feels... wrong. Like my body's rejecting it."

"Rejecting it?" Urokodaki's head tilted. "Explain."

"I can execute the forms, but something's off. Like there's resistance I can't quite overcome. The techniques work, but they don't feel natural."

Water Breathing was the most compatible style in existence—its adaptability was legendary. Even mediocre swordsmen could utilize it without issue. For someone to experience rejection was unheard of.

Unless...

"Kaidō, have you studied another Breathing Style before?"

"Yes. I created my own technique—Dragon Breathing."

Created his own? Urokodaki's mind raced. That explained everything. Once a swordsman developed their own Breathing Style, their body adapted to its specific rhythm and flow. Attempting to learn a different style afterward would naturally create conflict.

"That's why you're experiencing rejection. Your body has already attuned itself to Dragon Breathing. Water Breathing is fundamentally incompatible now."

But that raised an interesting question. Why had Tanjiro been able to use both Water Breathing and Hinokami Kagura without issue?

Kaidō considered this briefly before the answer clicked into place. The Hinokami Kagura was actually Sun Breathing—the original style from which all others derived. Water Breathing was a descendant technique, which meant the two shared fundamental principles. That compatibility didn't extend to completely independent styles like Dragon Breathing.

Besides, Tanjiro was the protagonist. Normal rules didn't always apply.

"Could you demonstrate your Dragon Breathing?" Urokodaki asked, genuine curiosity coloring his tone.

"Of course. Watch closely."

Kaidō's entire demeanor shifted. Where Water Breathing had felt constrained, this was pure, unfiltered power.

"Dragon Breathing, First Form: Dragon's Breath."

"Dragon Breathing, Second Form: Dragon Claw."

"Dragon Breathing, Third Form: Divine Dragon's Tail."

"Dragon Breathing, Fourth Form: Coiling Dragon."

"Dragon Breathing, Fifth Form: Violent Tempest."

"Dragon Breathing, Sixth Form: Tornado Maelstrom."

Each strike carried devastating force, the air itself seeming to roar with draconic fury. Urokodaki watched in silent awe as his student demonstrated a Breathing Style that rivaled anything he'd seen in his decades with the Corps.

"That's Dragon Breathing, First through Sixth Forms," Kaidō said, slightly winded. "I'm still developing the later techniques."

"Good. Good. Good." Three times Urokodaki repeated the word, each iteration carrying more weight than the last.

His student had created a Breathing Style from scratch—one powerful enough to stand alongside the legendary techniques. The Demon Slayer Corps would soon gain another Hashira.

Of that, Urokodaki was now absolutely certain.

"Follow me. There's one final test."

They walked deep into the forest until they reached a clearing. At its center sat an enormous boulder, easily twice the size of the one Tanjiro would eventually face, bound with thick rope.

What the hell? How did they even get this thing up here?

"Split this boulder, and I'll allow you to participate in the Final Selection."

Without waiting for a response, Urokodaki turned and walked away, leaving Kaidō alone with the massive stone.

This test isn't about my strength—it's about my fear. Urokodaki has lost too many students. This boulder is his last line of defense, a barrier meant to keep me safe by keeping me away from the Selection entirely.

But it won't work.

Kaidō raised his blade, preparing to cleave the stone in half with a single strike—then froze. His gaze drifted upward to the boulder's peak.

A small figure sat there, legs dangling over the edge.

He stared for a long moment before lowering his weapon. Without another word, he turned and walked away.

...

Two months passed.

Every day, Kaidō returned to the boulder. Every day, he stood before it, stared at its summit for several minutes, then spent hours training. He refined the existing Dragon Breathing forms and eventually developed a ninth technique.

Dragon Breathing, Ninth Form: Cyclone Pierce — Point the blade forward and spin at high velocity while thrusting straight ahead. The rotational force creates a devastating drill-like attack with explosive linear momentum. (Inspired by Simon's Giga Drill Break from Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann.)

Perfect for penetrating defenses or obliterating single targets. Combined with the Eighth Form's speed, this gave him two lethal assassination techniques.

Another glance at the boulder's peak. Still occupied.

He'd return tomorrow.

...

"Why does he keep staring at the boulder?" Sabito's voice carried frustration. "He's strong enough to split it easily. I've watched him train—he should have moved on weeks ago."

"He's not staring at the boulder," Makomo said gently. "He just doesn't want to split it."

"What? Why not??"

"Because he can see us. The first time I met him, I thought he was hesitating out of doubt. But then I realized—every time he prepared to strike, he'd notice me sitting on top and stop. He doesn't want to cut through the boulder while I'm there. So every day, he just... keeps me company until sunset."

Sabito fell silent, processing this.

"He knew we were here the whole time," he finally said. "Otherwise he would have left already."

A grin spread across his face beneath the fox mask.

"He really is something special. Created his own Breathing Style, developed a new form in just two months... During the Final Selection, little junior brother is going to annihilate that bastard for us."

"I'm looking forward to it!" Makomo's voice brightened.

"Let's meet him properly tomorrow. He's ready to complete Master Urokodaki's test. Besides..." Sabito's tone softened. "I want to talk to him. See what kind of person our junior brother really is. And I hope... I really hope he survives. Someone needs to look after the old man when we're gone."

"Me too," Makomo whispered.

...

The next morning, Kaidō arrived at the boulder to find the summit empty. Finally.

Time to finish this.

"Hello there, junior brother!"

Two figures emerged from the tree line. The first was a petite girl with shoulder-length dark green hair and a fox mask decorated with floral patterns covering the upper half of her face.

Makomo.

The second was a young man with salmon-pink hair and silver eyes marked with horizontal lines. A scar ran from the right corner of his mouth to his cheek, partially hidden beneath another fox mask.

Sabito.

Both were users of Water Breathing. Both had died during their Final Selection. Both were technically his senpai under Urokodaki, despite never having met him while alive.

"Hello. I'm Ryūjin Kaidō. And you are?"

"Sabito. Your senpai."

"Makomo. Likewise, your senpai."

"It's good to meet you both." Kaidō paused, glancing at the boulder. "Um, Makomo-san, you're not going to sit up there anymore, right? Because if you do, I'll feel really awkward about splitting it. Especially since... well..."

His face reddened as the memory surfaced—looking up at Makomo sitting on the boulder's peak, the angle revealing a flash of white underneath—

Makomo's face flushed crimson as realization dawned. Sabito, sensing the awkward tension, quickly intervened. "Junior brother, would you spar with me?"

"You're serious?" Kaidō's eyes lit up.

"Of course. Makomo, you'll referee!"

"Alright! Do your best, junior brother!"

They took their positions at opposite ends of the clearing. The moment Makomo signaled the start, both fighters exploded forward—blades clashing with sharp, metallic rings that echoed through the forest. Strike and counterstrike, advance and retreat, their weapons singing a violent duet as they traded blows in a deadly dance.

"Your combat instincts are incredible, Senpai!" Kaidō said, his breathing steady despite the intensity.

"You're no slouch yourself—you've actually got the upper hand!" Sabito's grin was audible even through the mask. "Alright then. No more holding back."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Water Breathing, Tenth Form: Constant Flux!"

"Dragon Breathing, Third Form: Divine Dragon's Tail!"

CRACK.

Sabito's Nichirin blade shattered, fragments spinning through the air like scattered stars. But instead of disappointment, his face split into the widest, most genuine smile Kaidō had ever seen.

"You win, junior brother." Sabito's voice carried no trace of regret—only pride. "Remember to live well for us. Live the life we couldn't."

"Take care of Master Urokodaki," Makomo added softly, her eyes shimmering behind the fox mask.

"I promise." Kaidō's voice didn't waver. "I'll live for all of us. I'll protect Master Urokodaki. And I'll cut down every demon that crosses my path."

"Then let us witness your journey." Sabito gestured toward the boulder. "Show us you've truly earned this."

Kaidō turned to face the massive stone, drawing his blade in one smooth motion. His eyes narrowed with focus.

"Dragon Breathing, Second Form: Dragon Claw."

The boulder split cleanly down the middle, the two halves toppling in opposite directions with earth-shaking thuds.

"Live well, junior brother!" Makomo called over her shoulder as she and Sabito began to fade into the morning mist.

"I will!" Kaidō shouted back, watching until they vanished completely.

"So you split it after all."

Kaidō spun around. Urokodaki stood mere feet away, having approached in complete silence.

"I never wanted you to take the Final Selection," Urokodaki continued, his voice heavy with conflicting emotions. "But you've proven yourself ready."

"Master Urokodaki..."

...

"Eat up. You'll need your strength to face what's coming."

"Thank you, Master. This is delicious." Kaidō shoveled rice into his mouth with the enthusiasm of someone who'd just split a boulder twice his size.

Urokodaki watched him eat for a moment before speaking again. "Demons are like humans in one respect—the more they consume, the stronger they become. But their food is human flesh. The more powerful the demon, the higher their body count."

He poured tea into two cups.

"Some demons develop Blood Demon Arts—supernatural abilities that make them far more dangerous than ordinary demons. But there are beings even more terrifying. The Twelve Kizuki, divided into Upper Ranks and Lower Ranks."

Urokodaki's voice dropped to something almost resembling fear.

"The Upper Ranks are second only to Muzan Kibutsuji himself—the progenitor of all demons. If you encounter an Upper Rank, Kaidō, I don't care what's happening. Run. Even the Hashira struggle against them. Most who face the Upper Ranks don't survive long enough to report back. Our intelligence on them is virtually nonexistent because everyone who encounters them dies."

"Understood, Master." Kaidō nodded solemnly.

He knew his own limitations. Lower Ranks? He could handle those with his current strength. But Upper Ranks were in a completely different league. Even Upper Rank Six—the weakest of the six—would probably obliterate him before he could draw his sword.

Three months. He had less than three months until the Final Selection. Every day counted. Every hour of training might mean the difference between life and death.

And once he joined the Demon Slayer Corps, the system would issue more quests. More quests meant more Interdimensional Energy. More energy meant—eventually—going home.

...

Time passed in a blur of training and preparation. Before Kaidō knew it, the day of the Final Selection had arrived.

He stood before the small mirror in his room, adjusting his white coat accented with crimson trim. His long white hair was bound neatly, keeping it out of his face during combat. From a distance, he probably looked like some aristocratic young lady preparing for a formal event rather than a demon-slaying trial by fire.

"I prepared this warding mask for you." Urokodaki held out a fox mask—pure white with a single red spider lily painted on the forehead. "It will ward off misfortune and keep you safe."

Kaidō accepted the mask with both hands, treating it with the reverence it deserved. "Thank you, Master. I'm heading out now!"

He positioned the mask at an angle on his head, waved goodbye, and set off down the mountain path.

"Come back alive," Urokodaki whispered to the wind, watching until his student disappeared from view.

...

After a full day of travel, Kaidō finally arrived at Mount Fujikasane.

The sight took his breath away.

Wisteria trees encircled the mountain in concentric rings, their branches heavy with cascading purple blooms that extended halfway up the slope. The air itself seemed drenched in their fragrance—intoxicating, beautiful, and lethal to any demon foolish enough to approach.

"Seeing it in person really is different from watching it in an anime," Kaidō murmured, adjusting his mask properly over his face.

Other participants began filtering up the stone steps, converging on the clearing at the mountain's base. Kaidō did a quick headcount—roughly twenty people, including himself.

Not everyone would leave this mountain alive. The unspoken knowledge hung in the air like a guillotine blade.

"Welcome, everyone, to this year's Final Selection!"

<><><><><><><><>

"Welcome, everyone, to this year's Final Selection."

Two children appeared on the stone platform, each carrying a wisteria lantern. One had black hair, the other white—both with peculiar eyes, black sclera and white pupils, their faces frozen in identical serene smiles.

Kaidō knew the truth behind those smiles. The black-haired one was actually male—Kiriya Ubuyashiki, son of Kagaya. The white-haired girl was Kanata Ubuyashiki.

The Ubuyashiki family carried a curse in their blood—a price paid for their connection to Muzan Kibutsuji. Ever since that bastard transformed into a demon a thousand years ago, every generation of Ubuyashiki children had been sickly and frail, especially the boys. Most died before reaching adulthood. None lived past thirty.

To keep their bloodline from extinction, they'd followed a priest's advice and married into shrine maiden families for generations. It bought them time—barely. But the curse remained, an invisible noose tightening with each passing year.

The only way to break it? Kill Muzan Kibutsuji.

That's why the Demon Slayer Corps existed. That's why these children stood here tonight, smiling like dolls while sending people to their potential deaths.

"To all the swordsmen gathered here tonight," the twins spoke in perfect unison, their voices layered like an eerie harmony, "we extend our deepest gratitude for undertaking the Final Selection."

Kanata: "Within Mount Fujikasane, demons captured alive by the Corps have been imprisoned."

Kiriya: "The wisteria blossoms that grow from the mountain's base to its midpoint bloom year-round. Demons cannot pass through them."

Kanata: "Beyond this point, however, the wisteria does not grow."

Kiriya: "To pass the Final Selection, you must survive seven days within the mountain."

"We wish you all the best of luck."

Kaidō watched the synchronized speech with thinly veiled amusement. If he didn't know the context, he'd swear these two were programmed robots. The uncanny valley effect was strong.

He adjusted his fox mask and walked into the forest without looking back.

...

"That's seven." Kaidō wiped demon blood from his blade, watching another corpse disintegrate into ash. "Seven demons in one night, and still no sign of that Hand Demon bastard."

The moment Urokodaki had given him the fox mask, Kaidō had known what it meant. The Hand Demon specifically targeted Urokodaki's students—anyone wearing that distinctive mask became a priority kill.

Which was exactly why Kaidō wore it openly, practically advertising his presence.

'Come on, you ugly son of a bitch. I'm right here. Take the bait.'

But the forest remained frustratingly quiet.

"Maybe I need to push deeper into the mountain." He started walking again, scanning the darkness. "If I don't find him tonight, I'll have to leave him for Tanjiro when he takes the Selection. Can't have the kid facing this monster unprepared—"

Two demons burst from the underbrush ahead. One had a pair of grotesque horns protruding from its skull. The other looked almost human except for the fangs and the murder in its eyes.

"Finally! Fresh meat!" Horn-Demon lunged forward.

"Back off—this one's mine!" Fang-Demon shoved his companion aside.

"Fuck you! I saw him first!"

"Then let's see who gets there faster!"

They charged simultaneously, claws extended, mouths slavering.

"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash."

Two heads hit the ground before either demon realized they'd been cut.

Kaidō didn't even break stride. "Not worth the effort to use Dragon Breathing yet. Need to save that for the Hand Demon—if that paranoid freak even shows up."

He knew why the Hand Demon had survived forty-seven years in this mountain. The creature was cautious to the point of cowardice, fleeing from anything that seemed remotely threatening. One whiff of an unknown Breathing Style, and the bastard would vanish into the deepest part of the forest.

Water Breathing might feel like wearing someone else's clothes—uncomfortable and restrictive—but it was perfect camouflage. Just another Urokodaki student using the expected techniques.

"Keep moving forward... wait." Kaidō's head snapped toward a distant sound—trees snapping, something massive crashing through the forest. "That's not a normal demon."

He took off running.

The sound grew louder as he closed the distance—splintering wood, terrified screaming, the ground trembling with each impact.

"How is this possible??" A swordsman burst from the tree line, eyes wide with panic. "Why is there something this huge in the mountain?? Nobody said anything about—"

Kaidō appeared in front of him, blade already drawn. "Get behind me."

The swordsman stumbled to a halt, gasping. "Who—"

"NOW."

Behind them, the trees exploded outward. A grotesque mass of flesh and limbs emerged—the Hand Demon, easily three times the size of a normal human, its body covered in dozens of grasping, clutching hands.

Kaidō's lips curled into a vicious smile beneath his mask. "Finally. I've been looking everywhere for you, Ugly."

"Oh?" The demon's voice was a wet, gurgling mockery of human speech. "Another adorable little fox. And such a pretty one too! That mask makes you positively delicious-looking, little fox. Hehehehe."

The demon's eyes—unnaturally white against its mottled flesh—focused on Kaidō's mask with disturbing intensity.

"Tell me, little fox... what era is it now?"

"Taisho Era."

"The name changed again?? Another era??" The Hand Demon clawed at its own face, tearing chunks of flesh away in impotent rage. "Forty-seven years! FORTY-SEVEN YEARS that bastard Urokodaki has kept me trapped here!!"

"That's impossible," the swordsman behind Kaidō whispered. "No demon could survive that long. It's never been documented—"

"But here I am!" The Hand Demon's laughter was unhinged. "Fifty humans consumed over those decades. Thirteen of them were Urokodaki's precious students. You, little fox, will be number fourteen!"

Its hands flexed, the sound like cracking knuckles amplified a hundred times.

"That mask—carved exactly like Urokodaki's tengu mask. Every single one of his students wears one, and every single one gets eaten by me! Did he tell you it wards off misfortune?" The demon's grin widened impossibly. "I still remember two particularly strong ones. A boy with salmon-pink hair and a scar on his cheek—he almost had me. Got his blade right to my neck... then it snapped. I caved his skull in."

Kaidō's grip on his sword tightened.

"And a girl in a flowered kimono. Not much strength, but fast. She might have escaped... but then I told her about all the other students I'd eaten. She got angry. Got sloppy. I ripped her arms and legs off while she was still screaming. HAHAHAHA!"

"You done monologuing?" Kaidō's voice cut through the laughter like a blade through silk. "Because I'm getting really tired of looking at your ugly ass face."

He turned to the swordsman. "Move. Get out of range. I'm not splitting my attention to babysit you."

The swordsman nodded and scrambled away.

Kaidō launched himself forward—

The ground beneath him exploded. Dozens of hands burst from the earth, grasping, clawing, trying to drag him down.

He twisted mid-air, vaulting over the ambush. "Predictable."

"You dodged??" The Hand Demon's surprise lasted exactly one second before its expression twisted into sadistic glee. "Doesn't matter! You're in the air now—nowhere to run!"

Every hand on the demon's body unified, forming a massive battering ram of flesh and bone that shot toward Kaidō like a cannon blast.

"You think I jumped without a plan? Amateur." Kaidō's blade sang. "Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel."

He spun, using the momentum to redirect his trajectory—landing directly on the demon's extended limb and running along it like a bridge, cutting through smaller hands as he went.

The distance closed in a heartbeat.

"Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!"

CLANG.

The blade bit into the demon's neck—and stopped.

What??

"Foolish little fox!" The Hand Demon's laugh was deafening. "My neck is harder than steel! You can't—"

A massive hand swung toward Kaidō's head, aiming to crush his skull exactly like it had done to Sabito.

Not a chance.

"Dragon Breathing, Fourth Form: Coiling Dragon."

Kaidō's blade snapped into a defensive guard. A translucent barrier of energy formed around him—serpentine, powerful, absolute.

BOOOOOOOOOOM.

The Hand Demon's strike connected—and Kaidō was launched backward, but completely unharmed. He landed in a crouch, sliding across the forest floor.

"What?? HOW??" The demon's voice cracked with genuine fear. "That should have killed you! What was that technique?? Why didn't it work??"

For the first time in forty-seven years, the Hand Demon felt something it had almost forgotten.

Terror.

Kaidō stood slowly, tilting his head. "You want to know? Then go ask whoever's waiting for you in hell." His smile was cold, merciless. "Playtime's over. I'm ending this—for Sabito and Makomo."

His breathing shifted. The air around him changed, became heavier, more oppressive.

"Dragon Breathing, First Form: Dragon's Breath."

Power flooded his body—strength, speed, reflexes all amplified beyond human limits. The forest floor cracked beneath his feet as he exploded forward.

"Too fast!" The Hand Demon immediately retracted every limb, forming a cocoon of flesh around itself. "He couldn't cut my neck before! Even with all these hands protecting me, there's no way—"

"Dragon Breathing, Third Form: Divine Dragon's Tail!"

The horizontal slash carved through the air like destiny made manifest. The attack wasn't a single strike—it was a wave of force that expanded outward in a perfect fan, sweeping away everything in its path.

The Hand Demon's defensive cocoon disintegrated like wet paper.

Its head separated from its body in one clean motion.

"Impossible..." The demon's head tumbled through the air, eyes wide with disbelief. "He... he cut through everything... just like that..."

Kaidō walked to where the body was dissolving, kneeling beside the fading head. He reached out and took one of the demon's hands—a gesture so unexpected that the creature couldn't even process it.

"Every monster was once a victim," Kaidō said quietly. "I hope your next life is kinder than this one. Stop being a demon—try being human again."

The Hand Demon's eyes widened. Tears—actual tears—began streaming down its disintegrating face.

Why? Why can't I hate him? He killed me... but I can't hate him...

Memories flooded back. A small boy. A brother. Hunger. The taste of flesh. The horror of realization.

Maybe... maybe this is mercy after all.

"Brother... where are you? I'm scared... it's so dark..."

"I'm right here. Take my hand—I won't let go this time."

...

Seven days passed in a blur of combat.

Kaidō cut down demon after demon, his blade never resting. He saved over a dozen participants who would have otherwise died, and by the end of the week, every survivor knew about the white-haired swordsman in the fox mask who hunted demons like a vengeful spirit.

Most of them had thought he was a girl at first—at least until he corrected them. Even then, the gratitude in their eyes never wavered.

"Seven days." Kaidō removed his mask as dawn broke on the final morning, breathing in the fresh air. "Mission complete. Time to head back down."

His Dragon Breathing had evolved during these fights—every technique sharper, more refined, more lethal. The real-world combat experience was irreplaceable.

Now came the boring part. Paperwork, measurements, waiting for his sword.

At least he'd get to go home and see Urokodaki again.

...

Ubuyashiki Estate

"Most of them survived?" Kagaya Ubuyashiki's smile was genuine, warm. "My children continue to grow stronger. How wonderful."

His wife, Amane, knelt beside him, reading the report from the Kasugai Crows. "The white-haired swordsman—the one trained by Urokodaki-san—displayed exceptional ability. He even created his own Breathing Style."

"Dragon Breathing..." Kagaya's expression grew thoughtful. "Amane, please write a letter to Urokodaki-san. I'd very much like to meet this young man. Invite him to visit once his sword is ready."

"As you wish, my lord."

Kagaya's blind eyes stared into the distance, seeing something beyond the physical world.

"Muzan Kibutsuji... you are our family's greatest shame. But my children grow stronger with each generation. This white-haired boy... I believe he will become one of the finest Hashira the Corps has ever known. And when that day comes..."

His smile never wavered.

"Your thousand-year reign will finally end."

...

Mount Fujikasane—Seven Days Later

"Welcome back, everyone."

Kanata: "First, congratulations."

Kiriya: "You have successfully completed the Final Selection."

Kanata: "You will now be measured for your uniforms and assigned your rank."

The Demon Slayer Corps used a ten-tier ranking system, from lowest to highest: Mizunoto → Mizunoe → Kanoto → Kanoe → Tsuchinoto → Tsuchinoe → Hinoto → Hinoe → Kinoto → Kinoe.

Everyone who passed the Selection started at the bottom: Mizunoto.

Kanata: "All of you are currently Mizunoto rank—the lowest tier."

Kiriya: "There is one more matter to address."

Kanata clapped her hands. The sound of wings filled the air as crows descended from the sky—Kasugai Crows, trained by the Ubuyashiki family to serve as messengers and scouts.

A crow with distinctive white markings on its head landed on Kaidō's shoulder.

"Aw, you're adorable!" Kaidō immediately reached up to scratch under the bird's chin. "How about I call you Kuroha? You like that name?"

The crow—Kuroha—nuzzled against his cheek affectionately, making soft cooing sounds.

"Haha, that tickles!"

Kiriya: "From this moment forward, your Kasugai Crow will accompany you. They transmit orders and relay information between Corps members."

Kanata: "Now, please select your ore."

Kiriya: "This tamahagane steel will be forged into your Nichirin Blade."

Kanata: "The forging process takes fifteen days."

Kiriya: "Once complete, the blade will be delivered to you."

Silence.

None of the survivors moved toward the ore.

They exchanged glances—shame, relief, resignation all mixed together. Most of them hadn't killed a single demon. They'd hidden, run, survived by sheer luck and the efforts of others.

Specifically, one white-haired swordsman who'd done most of the heavy lifting.

One by one, they approached the Ubuyashiki twins and bowed.

"We... we can't become swordsmen," a young man said, voice thick with emotion. "We're sorry."

He turned to Kaidō. "Thank you for saving us. We won't forget what you did."

Others echoed the sentiment, bowing low.

"Wait." Kaidō tilted his head. "If I remember correctly, you can join the Kakushi, right?"

Kanata nodded. "Yes. Those who do not become swordsmen may join the Kakushi Corps—the cleanup and logistics division. They don't fight demons, but they provide essential support."

The young man's eyes widened. "Then... I want to join the Kakushi. Even if I can't fight, I want to contribute something."

"Me too!"

"Count me in!"

"My name's Jiro Mimura," the first young man said, turning back to Kaidō with a slight bow. "Thank you again for everything."

"Don't mention it. I'm Ryūjin Kaidō." He removed his mask, offering a genuine smile.

Mimura's face turned red. He quickly looked away, muttering something unintelligible.

Kaidō walked up to the stone platform and selected his ore, then turned to Kanata. "Can I request a custom blade design? I'll cover any additional costs."

"That's acceptable."

Perfect. Kaidō handed over the ore along with a detailed sketch he'd prepared weeks ago during his stay with Urokodaki.

A greatsword—wider and heavier than standard Nichirin Blades. Dragon Breathing demanded power and reach, and a conventional katana wouldn't cut it.

Literally.

"Thanks. See you all later!" He waved to the remaining participants and started down the mountain.

...

Urokodaki's House—The Next Day

"Master Urokodaki! I'm home!"

The old man appeared in the doorway, and without a word, reached up to pat Kaidō's head. "Welcome back. I'm glad you're safe."

Kaidō told him everything—about the Hand Demon, the forty-seven years, the fifty victims, the thirteen students. He carefully avoided mentioning the fox masks, not wanting to burden his teacher with more guilt.

But Urokodaki knew. The old man always knew.

"So that's what happened," Urokodaki murmured. "A demon I captured... became strong enough to kill my children."

His voice was hollow, defeated.

"It's not your fault, Master," Kaidō said firmly. "You couldn't have predicted it would mutate into something that monstrous. Besides, it's gone now. No one else will die because of it. But..." He paused.

"Maybe the Corps should start monitoring the Selection site more carefully. Regular patrols, strength assessments. Make sure this doesn't happen again."

"You're right." Urokodaki's posture straightened slightly. "I'll submit that recommendation."

At that moment, Kuroha swooped through the window and landed on the table. "Kaidō! Master summons! Master summons!"

The crow lifted one leg, revealing a small scroll tied to it.

Kaidō untied the message and handed it to Urokodaki, then scooped up his crow and started scratching behind its head. Kuroha immediately melted into the touch, eyes half-closing in bliss.

"Still weird seeing a crow actually talk," Kaidō muttered. "I knew it happened in the anime, but experiencing it in person is a whole different thing."

Urokodaki finished reading. "The Master wants to meet you. Once your Nichirin Blade arrives, you're to report to Corps Headquarters immediately."

"Understood, Master."

<><><><><><><><>

Night fell over Mount Sagiri. After finishing dinner with Urokodaki, Kaidō retreated to his room and closed the door behind him.

"Alright, time to collect my rewards." He'd completed the Final Selection days ago, but he'd deliberately held off on claiming the quest completion. Too many distractions, not enough privacy.

[Ding! Quest Complete: Journey to Mount Sagiri, seek training from Sakonji Urokodaki, and participate in the Final Selection.]

[Rewards: Phantom Eye, Mental Enhancement Serum x2, Dragon Breathing Seventh Form, Dragon Breathing Eighth Form, 100,000 Yen.]

[Ding! Congratulations! Host has completed their first major quest. Bonus reward: 8% Interdimensional Energy.]

[Current Interdimensional Energy: 15%]

Kaidō's heart slammed against his ribs. "Holy shit—that's huge! I'm already at fifteen percent total. At this rate, I'll be home before I know it!"

The thought of seeing his mother again, his sister, even that idiot Hayato—it made his chest tighten in ways he hadn't felt since the transmigration.

He forced himself to breathe. Focus. There's work to do first.

"Okay, let's think this through. I've got nine Dragon Breathing forms now—I developed the Ninth Form on my own while waiting for the quest to complete so I could unlock the Seventh and Eighth. Now that I've got all nine, I need to master them before my sword arrives."

He paused, staring at the system interface.

"The system gives incredible rewards, but they're useless if I can't properly integrate them into my fighting style. Power without skill is just wasted potential."

Decision made, he selected the Phantom Eye reward.

[Ding! Fuse Phantom Eye? Warning: The fusion process will cause severe ocular pain. Please prepare yourself.]

Kaidō took a deep breath, then another. "No guts, no glory. Do it."

[Beginning fusion... Fusion in progress...]

"FUCK—"

The pain hit like a railroad spike driven directly into his left eye socket. It wasn't just pain—it was violation, like someone had taken a red-hot knife and was carving patterns into his eyeball from the inside out, twisting, scraping, reshaping.

His hands clenched into fists so tight his nails drew blood from his palms. Sweat poured down his face. He bit down on his sleeve to keep from screaming and waking Urokodaki.

Thirty goddamn minutes of agony that felt like thirty hours.

[Ding! Fusion successful.]

Kaidō collapsed onto the tatami mat, gasping. "Finally... that was worse than dying the first time around."

His left eye felt different—not painful anymore, but strange. Foreign. Like it belonged to someone else and his brain was still learning how to use it.

"I'll test it tomorrow. Right now, I need the mental boost if I'm going to function." He pulled out both vials of Mental Enhancement Serum and downed them one after the other without hesitation.

Immediately, his head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. The room spun. His vision blurred. For a few terrifying seconds, he thought he'd made a massive mistake—

Then clarity.

His thoughts sharpened like a blade fresh from the whetstone. The fog that always seemed to linger at the edges of his consciousness vanished completely, replaced by crystalline focus. Mental calculations that used to take effort now came effortlessly.

"Damn. This is going to be useful." Kaidō grinned despite the exhaustion. "Tomorrow, I'll test everything properly. Once I've mastered these new abilities, I'll be ready for whatever bullshit this world throws at me."

...

The next morning, Kaidō climbed to the mountain peak hoping to find Sabito and Makomo. He wanted to tell them he'd officially become a Demon Slayer, that their deaths hadn't been in vain.

But the summit was empty.

"Maybe that's for the best," he murmured, kneeling before their graves. "We'll meet again when the time's right."

Sabito's voice drifted on the wind, though Kaidō couldn't hear it. "Should we go see him?"

Makomo shook her head gently. "He understands. He knows we're watching."

...

Kaidō made his way to the river to wash his face. The moment he looked at his reflection in the water, he froze.

His left eye—formerly golden like the right—now gleamed with a vivid purple hue, the color of amethyst catching sunlight.

"Well, that's new." He leaned closer, studying the change. "This must be the Phantom Eye. Guess heterochromia is my life now."

Time to test it.

Kaidō closed both eyes, centering his breathing. Then he opened them—focusing specifically on activating the Phantom Eye.

The world... slowed.

Not stopped, but stretched like taffy pulled between two hands. A butterfly drifted past his face, its wings beating in slow motion, each individual scale visible. The river flowed like honey instead of water. Every falling leaf, every swaying branch—he could perceive it all with perfect clarity.

"This is insane..." His grin widened. "If I use this in combat, I'll be able to read enemy attacks before they even finish the motion. I'll see openings that don't exist for normal people."

But that was only half the ability. The Phantom Eye also created illusions—trapped enemies in false realities constructed from their own desires and fears.

Kaidō glanced up at a small bird perched on a nearby branch. "Sorry, little guy. Science requires sacrifice."

He focused his left eye on the creature. "Illusion."

The bird immediately toppled from its perch, landing in the grass with a soft thump.

Kaidō could see the illusion he'd trapped it in: dozens of other birds surrounding it, bowing in reverence like subjects before a king.

"Even birds dream of greatness, huh?" Kaidō chuckled—then immediately regretted it as vertigo slammed into him like a freight train.

His head felt like someone had filled it with lead. The world tilted sideways. He staggered, nearly falling into the river before catching himself.

"Okay, note to self—illusions burn through mental energy like crazy. Can't spam that in combat or I'll pass out at the worst possible moment." He took several deep breaths, waiting for the dizziness to fade. "But used strategically? One second of hesitation from an enemy is all I need to turn a fight around. This could be a genuine lifesaver."

The bird woke up a moment later, shook itself off, and flew away—probably very confused but otherwise fine.

Kaidō splashed cold water on his face and got to work.

...

Fifteen days passed in a blur of relentless training.

Every morning, Kaidō pushed his Total Concentration Breathing to its absolute limits—no more interruptions, no more breaks in rhythm. He'd learned from the Final Selection; those traps that disrupted his breathing had taught him a valuable lesson about maintaining focus under pressure.

His Dragon Breathing forms became second nature. What had once required conscious thought now flowed as naturally as breathing itself—which, considering that's literally what they were based on, made sense.

He practiced with the Phantom Eye daily, gradually extending the duration of his illusions. Thirty seconds. That's how long he could maintain a mental construct now before exhaustion set in.

Thirty seconds didn't sound like much, but in a life-or-death fight, it was an eternity.

"Today's the day," Kaidō said aloud, stretching his arms overhead. "Fifteen days are up. My sword should arrive any minute now."

As if summoned by the words themselves, a figure appeared on the path leading to the house—a swordsmith wearing a distinctive hat adorned with dozens of wind chimes and a Hyottoko mask covering his face.

"I am Hotaru Haganezuka," the man announced, his voice sharp with barely contained irritation. "I'm here to deliver a Nichirin Blade to Ryūjin Kaidō. Where is he? I have questions."

"That'd be me." Kaidō stepped forward. "Something wrong?"

"WRONG??" Haganezuka's voice rose to a near-shriek. "You requested the most absurdly impractical weapon I've ever been asked to forge! It consumed three times the normal amount of scarlet ore and scarlet crimson iron sand! It's ridiculously heavy! Unnecessarily large! And—"

"It's perfect for my Breathing Style," Kaidō interrupted calmly. "Dragon Breathing requires reach and weight to maximize impact. A standard katana wouldn't work—I need something with real mass behind it. Besides, the extra training weight will only make me stronger."

Haganezuka went silent for a moment, processing this.

"I see. So this... greatsword... as you called it in your design—it's not just aesthetic preference. It's functional necessity." The swordsmith's tone shifted slightly, moving from outrage toward grudging respect. "And you're confident you can wield it effectively?"

"Completely."

"Hmph. Very well." Haganezuka pulled a long wooden case from his back. "Nichirin Blades are also called 'color-changing swords'—they reflect the wielder's nature. Let's see what color your greatsword becomes. I'm hoping for Bright Red—the legendary blade of the sun."

They moved inside. Urokodaki watched with quiet interest as Kaidō opened the case.

The weapon inside was magnificent.

A meter-long blade, thirty-centimeter grip, twenty centimeters wide at its broadest point. It was massive—designed to cleave through demons rather than simply cut them.

Kaidō lifted it from the case, feeling the weight settle into his hands. Heavy, yes, but perfectly balanced. He drew the blade from its sheath, gripping the handle with both hands.

The metal began to change.

From base to tip, the entire blade shifted—flowing like liquid color until it settled into a deep, vivid crimson. Not quite red, but close. The color of fresh arterial blood.

"BRIGHT RED! IT'S BRIGHT RED! THE LEGENDARY—" Haganezuka practically vibrated with excitement. "I finally forged a Bright Red blade! After all these years! HAHAHAHA!"

"Haganezuka-san, calm down!" Kaidō tried to interject. "It's not actually bright red—look closer!"

Urokodaki stepped forward, examining the blade with a critical eye. "He's right. It's blood-crimson, not true bright red. Close, but not quite the legendary sun blade."

Haganezuka deflated slightly. "Ah... you're correct. How disappointing." He jabbed a finger at Kaidō's chest. "But mark my words, Ryūjin Kaidō—you will treat this weapon with respect! If you break it or lose it, I will hunt you down and make you regret it!"

Kaidō immediately thought of Tanjiro getting chased through the streets by a knife-wielding Haganezuka and suppressed a laugh. "Understood. I'll guard it with my life."

At that moment, Kuroha swooped through the window and landed on Kaidō's shoulder, ruffling its feathers importantly.

"CAW! Kaidō! Master summons! Proceed immediately to Demon Slayer Corps Headquarters! Master summons! Proceed immediately!"

"Hey, Kuroha! Long time no see, buddy!" Kaidō immediately scooped up the crow, scratching under its chin. The bird cooed contentedly, nuzzling against his hand.

He turned to Urokodaki. "Looks like it's time, Master. Thank you for everything you've taught me. And..." He touched the fox mask hanging from his belt. "Thank you for this. I'll treasure it."

"You've learned everything I can teach you," Urokodaki said quietly. "The path ahead is yours to walk. But when you reach Headquarters, do me a favor—check in on Giyu Tomioka. He's your senpai. Make sure he's doing alright."

"I will." Kaidō strapped the greatsword across his back, the weight already feeling natural. He positioned the fox mask at an angle on his head—not covering his face yet, but ready to drop into place when needed.

"And Haganezuka-san—don't worry. I'll put your craftsmanship to good use. Every demon I kill with this blade is a testament to your skill."

"Hmph. Make sure of it."

Kaidō walked to the door, pausing at the threshold to look back one final time. He raised his hand in farewell. "See you later, Master!"

Then he stepped outside, following Kuroha as the crow took flight toward Corps Headquarters—and his meeting with the enigmatic Kagaya Ubuyashiki.

Urokodaki watched him go until he disappeared from view, then whispered to the wind:

"May fortune favor you in battle, my student. Come back alive."