Iori eventually fell asleep, clutching the mask in her arms.
They were resting beneath the shade of the forest canopy.
Though they were in the shadows, sunlight still streamed through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled patterns onto the forest floor—just enough to keep demons at bay.
There would be no demons during the day, which made daytime the safest and most relaxing time to rest.
Takeo only rested for a little while. He woke up earlier than Iori.
Thanks to his enhanced recovery ability, he could restore his stamina in a short period of time. After all, this was one of Takeo's greatest advantages—and the reason he was able to survive Kyojuro Rengoku's brutal training regimen.
Glancing at the sky, he noted that the sun had begun its slow descent westward. Without disturbing Iori, Takeo quietly stood up and slipped into the forest.
The second night was fast approaching. And tonight, too—who knew how many would die?
Mount Fujikasane was vast. Though referred to as a single mountain, it was actually a range of interconnected peaks.
To cross from one side to the other could take a very long time. So once the participants scattered throughout the forest, finding one another again became nearly impossible.
That Iori had found Takeo yesterday was sheer luck—mostly because no one had ventured too far yet, and she had been actively searching for him.
But tonight, unless Takeo intentionally sought her out, they likely wouldn't run into each other again.
"They really do thin out the deeper you go into the forest, huh…"
The highest concentration of demons on Mount Fujikasane was near the entrance.
That was because Demon Slayer Corps candidates always entered from there. For demons hoping for an easy meal, lurking near the entrance was the best chance to catch fresh prey.
Of course, if they happened to run into a strong candidate… it was also the fastest way to die.
Just like those demons Takeo had killed yesterday.
But the deeper one went into the forest, the more scattered the demons became. With some luck, a person could walk an entire night without encountering even a single one.
And even with slightly worse luck, three demons in a single night would already be pushing it—unless one was actively hunting them down.
Or… unless your luck was truly abysmal, and you stumbled into a nest of them—
"Sniff.. sniff.. Ugh, speak of the devil…"
Just as Takeo thought this, his nose caught a heavy stench of demon scent.
Even from this distance, the smell was overpowering—and mixed. That meant many demons were gathered in one place.
And among those demons… Takeo detected a scent he recognized.
It was that same scent—belonging to the boy around Takeo's age whom he'd noticed earlier at the start of the Final Selection.
Now mildly intrigued, Takeo made his way toward the gathering of demons.
What he saw was that same black-haired boy, now surrounded in the center by a group of demons.
Just like the first time Takeo had seen him, the boy looked dazed—almost indifferent to everything around him.
He stood there, utterly motionless. Even as six demons encircled him with bloodthirsty glares and glowing red eyes, he didn't react. His expression didn't change, and he hadn't even unsheathed his sword, as if the demons meant nothing to him—like they weren't even there.
The six demons snarled, their grotesque faces twisted with hunger. They didn't speak, nor did they waste time on threats.
In the blink of an eye, they all lunged at once—straight toward the boy in the middle.
Takeo instinctively reached for his sword hilt.
Even though he'd sensed from the start that this boy was strong, his youthful appearance—clearly no older than himself—made Takeo hesitate. Could he really handle six demons at once?
But in the very next moment, Takeo realized his concern was completely unnecessary.
A mist-like aura suddenly spread outward from the boy's body, swirling into a low, creeping fog.
Takeo's pupils contracted, and he leaned forward slightly from his perch above, watching the boy's every move.
"What… is that…?"
In Takeo's eyes, the boy's figure became hazy the moment the mist unfurled.
He could barely track the movement—only faint afterimages flickering through the fog. Those fleeting traces alone made Takeo question whether his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
In the span of a single breath, the boy's silhouette solidified once more—standing right where he had been. And the demons who had lunged at him?
Frozen in place, blood trickling in perfectly clean lines from their necks.
Dead.
Six demons, all decapitated in an instant—so fast they didn't even realize what had happened.
"…Wind—no… Mist? Mist Breathing…? A self-created Breathing Technique?? Who even is this kid?!"
Takeo's eyes widened, locked on the boy's back in stunned disbelief.
During his time training in the Rengoku household, Takeo had been exposed to plenty of knowledge. He was well-informed about the current known Breathing Styles within the Demon Slayer Corps.
Aside from the five foundational styles—Flame, Water, Wind, Stone, and Thunder—there were only a handful of uniquely developed Breathing Styles, each belonging to a current Hashira.
Kanroji Mitsuri's Love Breathing, Uzui Tengen's Sound Breathing, Iguro Obanai's Serpent Breathing, and Shinobu Kocho's Insect Breathing.
No one else, to Takeo's knowledge, had developed their own personalized Breathing Style. Most swordsmen in the Corps strictly adhered to one of the five core disciplines.
It wasn't written anywhere that having an original Breathing Style was required to become a Hashira—
But still, every Hashira who had reached the top possessed their own unique style.
And now… this boy had shown him something unmistakably original.
It was because of this that Takeo had been obsessing over creating a Breathing Technique of his own.
He had assumed that, with his advantages and his cheat, he'd soon craft a unique style and rise quickly to become a Hashira.
But now he realized… even with those advantages, there were still people in this very Final Selection who far surpassed him.
That boy—who had beheaded six demons in the blink of an eye—had clearly used an original Breathing Technique.
And he looked like he was only around twelve years old!
Is this what a true genius looks like in this world?
A prodigy stronger than even someone with cheats like himself?
"Wait—if he already has a self-created Breathing Technique…"
Takeo suddenly thought of something and jumped down from the tree, hurrying toward the boy.
"Hey! You there, wait a second! I've got something I want to ask! Hey!"
He knew shouting like this was rude—but he didn't know the boy's name. There wasn't much else he could call him besides "hey."
Fortunately, the boy didn't seem to mind.
In fact, he didn't react at all. He simply continued walking forward, focused and silent, without even glancing back.
"…Is he deaf or something?"
Seeing that the boy completely ignored him, Takeo had no choice but to leap in front of him and block his path.
"I said wait up!"
"..."
Now that his way was blocked, the boy had to stop. He looked up at Takeo and said in a calm, flat voice, "Move. You're in the way."
His tone was devoid of emotion, simply stating a fact.
Takeo didn't budge. "Sorry for blocking you, but I really do have something to ask. That technique you used just now… It's not from one of the five basic Breathing Styles, right? The thing is, I've been thinking a lot about how to create a Breathing Technique of my own. And when I saw you use something so unique, I figured I'd come ask you about it."
Since the boy seemed like the quiet and indifferent type, Takeo decided to say everything in one go.
But the boy didn't answer immediately.
"Hmmm.."
He tilted his head slightly, as if thinking it over, then finally said:
"I don't see any reason why I need to tell you."
"…Uh."
What he said… actually makes sense.
Takeo was momentarily speechless. As much as he genuinely wanted to understand how to develop his own Breathing Technique, the boy truly had no reason to share the secrets of his style with a stranger.
They weren't friends. They weren't even acquaintances.
If the situation were reversed, Takeo figured he probably wouldn't tell some random person his techniques either.
Just as he was wondering how else to strike up a conversation, his instincts suddenly screamed danger.
Takeo's enhanced senses—his beast-like intuition—kicked in before thought could catch up. He immediately leapt to the side, channeling his Breathing through his body. His right hand snapped up in front of him on reflex.
Smack—!
"Oh?" came the boy's surprised voice.
Takeo looked down at his hand. He was gripping the boy's knife-hand mid-strike.
The situation was clear: the boy had just attacked him.
"…What are you doing?" Takeo stared at him in disbelief.
Takeo's brow twitched.
The boy withdrew his hand and said calmly, "You were in my way. I still have demons to kill—I don't have time to waste playing games with you."
"So you just attacked me?!"
"I don't like repeating myself. And to be honest…" The boy looked Takeo up and down and added in the same flat tone, "You don't look like someone capable of creating a Breathing Technique. Even if I told you the key, it'd be a waste of time. I hate wasting time."
"..."
Great. Another infuriating personality!
+1 to the list of irritating people!
What was with this world, seriously? Why did everyone have such distinct personalities?
There was the annoying drunk of a former Flame Hashira, the loud and overly intense current Flame Hashira, the cheerful Love Hashira who was weirdly obsessed with romance, and the overly friendly girl he'd met during the journey…
And now this guy—someone who spoke like everyone around him was trash.
Was this because it was an anime? Was it because this world was an anime!?
Was that why everyone had such… quirky character traits?
Takeo could understand it. But still…
It was starting to seriously piss him off.
"You—!"
Takeo was just about to argue back, maybe even draw his sword and settle things the old-fashioned way—prove with strength that he could create his own Breathing Technique.
But right at that moment, a sharp scream rang out from the distance: " Aaaahhhh!!! "
It was Sakoma Iori!
Despite all his talk about how much he disliked her, the second Takeo heard her scream, he didn't hesitate for a moment. He stopped arguing with the boy and immediately turned to sprint in the direction of the cry.
With no one left blocking his way, the boy should've simply continued forward.
But instead, he stood still, watching Takeo's retreating figure.
Then he glanced down at the hand he'd struck with—the hand that Takeo had blocked.
He stood there, silent, unmoving, as if deep in thought.
_______
o(*￣▽￣*)ブRead 12 Advance chaps—P@treon: HornyFBI