Night still blanketed Mount Fujikasane.

The cool mountain breeze rustled the leaves, whispering softly through the darkness.

"…Hah… hah…"

Tomioka Giyū jolted awake, gasping for breath. His face was pale, and cold sweat ran down his temples.

Across the flickering campfire, Sabito sat calmly, spinning a stick in his hand as he roasted a wild rabbit over glowing embers. The golden-brown skin was beginning to sizzle.

He glanced up and smiled gently when he noticed Giyū had woken.

"Giyū, you're awake? Kyūjō-san already left. He said your injuries aren't serious—just rest for a few days and don't push yourself too hard."

He pointed at the rabbit. "You must be starving. Just wait a bit longer. The meat's almost done."

Giyū stared at Sabito blankly for a few seconds, then murmured in a low voice:

"I had a dream…"

"I dreamed… you died."

"After that, I passed the Final Selection…"

"…and became the Water Hashira."

Sabito didn't flinch. Instead, his eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity.

"Really? And then what?" he leaned forward, completely unfazed by the part where he died.

Giyū closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall the fragments of the dream before they faded.

"After that…"

— — —

Seven days later.

Morning light crept down the slopes of Mount Fujikasane, illuminating the clearing at its base—where the official Final Selection ceremony was being held.

Standing atop a stone platform was Kōyama Shinichirō, a Kinoe-ranked swordsman. His brow furrowed as he scanned the crowd of survivors gathering below.

"…There's too many?" he muttered under his breath.

He started counting with his fingers.

"One, two… three… thirty-nine!?"

He froze, eyes wide in disbelief.

"There's no way!"

Did I mess up the count? Did all the demons on the mountain disappear!?

Not a single death!?

If everyone passed, then even our supply of Scarlet Ore—used to forge Nichirin Blades—won't be enough!

In all of Demon Slayer Corps history, something like this had never happened.

Still stunned, Shinichirō tightened his grip on his sword and was about to rush up the mountain to investigate—just to make sure there hadn't been some mistake.

But before he could move…

A lone figure stepped out from the shadowed trail.

Dressed in simple black, holding a small notebook in hand, Tachibana Kyūjō walked down slowly, calm as ever.

Over the past week, Kyūjō had scoured every corner of Mount Fujikasane—confirming that no humans were left behind and documenting everything in meticulous detail.

His notes included evaluations of each participant: their personalities, fighting styles, potential for growth, and suggested development paths.

He planned to deliver the report directly to Ubuyashiki Kagaya, the head of the Ubuyashiki family and supreme leader of the Demon Slayer Corps.

Kyūjō was convinced that the old method of survival-based testing needed to be replaced. A modern, holistic evaluation system—more rational, more humane—was long overdue.

Nearby, Kōyama Shinichirō spotted Kyūjō emerging from the forest and cried out:

"Hashira-sama! You… you were here all along!?"

His eyes sparkled with admiration.

Just a while back, during a mission to slay a powerful demon, he had nearly died at the hands of Korogi—one of the Twelve Kizuki, ranked Lower Moon Four.

But in the nick of time, Tachibana Kyūjō had appeared.

With a single strike, he had killed Korogi and saved Shinichirō's life.

From that day forward, Kyūjō had become a personal hero to him.

"Shinichirō, huh?" Kyūjō gave a small smile. "Glad to see you're still alive."

"Sir! Kinoe-ranked swordsman Kōyama Shinichirō reporting with utmost respect!"

Shinichirō stood straight, puffing out his chest.

But before he could say anything else, Kyūjō raised a hand and gently interrupted.

"No need. The responsibility for what happened during this Selection is mine. I'll explain everything to Oyakata-sama. This wasn't your fault."

Hearing that, Shinichirō exhaled in relief and gave a firm nod.

Kyūjō then walked to the center of the group of young survivors. Their faces were bruised and tired—but none of them looked regretful. In their eyes burned hope, and determination.

Kyūjō stood tall and addressed them.

"My name is Tachibana Kyūjō, one of the Hashira—Pillar of Thunder in the Demon Slayer Corps."

"I owe you all an apology."

"Because of my actions, your Selection exam experienced… some unexpected changes."

He bowed deeply.

When he rose again, his tone was calm and firm.

"Based on my personal observations, I've selected twelve of you who are ready to become demon slayers."

"This is just my judgment. If your name is called, please step forward."

"Sabito… Tomioka Giyū… Murata…"

One by one, twelve names were called. Twelve stepped forward.

The rest began murmuring quietly among themselves. Some looked disappointed. Others stood silently, their expressions unreadable.

Kyūjō looked across the whole group, then spoke again—this time with a deeper voice.

"Children… You've all shown incredible bravery. But becoming a Demon Slayer is not the only path."

"Are you absolutely sure this is the road you want to walk?"

"Fighting demons doesn't always mean wielding a sword."

"The Corps also has the Kakushi—support operatives who are just as vital to our success."

"If you feel you're not suited for combat, you can still join us as Kakushi."

He turned back to the twelve who had stepped forward.

"The same goes for you."

"Those who wish to become sword-wielding demon slayers, please move to the left."

"Those who wish to serve as Kakushi, move to the right."

"And if you're still unsure… stay where you are."

— — —

Moments later, the lines were drawn.

Thirty-one children stood on the left—ready to become demon slayers.

Eight stood to the right—choosing to serve as Kakushi.

Kyūjō gazed at them, quietly drawing in a long breath.

He'd done so much… and yet somehow, it still felt like not enough.

These thirty-one kids… how many would still be alive in a year?

Being a demon slayer… was never easy.

After a pause, Kyūjō finally spoke.

"I respect your choices."

"May we one day stand together… on the battlefield."

A warm, honest smile lit up his face as he bowed his head one last time.

— — —

Three days later, at the headquarters of the Demon Slayer Corps.

Tachibana Kyūjō sat across from Ubuyashiki Kagaya—the head of the Ubuyashiki family, and the leader of all demon slayers.

In his arms, Kagaya gently cradled a baby girl—Ubuyashiki Hinaki, his eldest daughter, just six months old.

She had soft white hair, bright violet eyes, a tiny nose, and rose-colored lips that made her look like a porcelain doll.

What surprised most people was that Kagaya had five children—quadruplet girls, and one boy. The third child, Ubuyashiki Kiriya, was the only son. (T/N: Canon status of this arrangement may vary.)

Normally, Kagaya spent his days caring for his children and rarely left their side.

But today, for one man—Tachibana Kyūjō—he had made time.

In front of Kagaya lay a thick proposal, neatly bound and titled in bold letters:

"Program for Selection and Development of Demon Slayer Talents."

A document that just might change the future of the Corps.

— — —

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