Living Up to Expectations!

The mountain path was harder to travel than they had imagined.

The narrow trail wound upward like a gray ribbon tossed carelessly across the mountainside.

Kanae and Shinobu had been running for roughly an hour.

Sweat soaked their hair at the temples, ran down their cheeks, and gathered on their chins.

Every breath burned, their lungs feeling as if they were being rubbed raw with coarse sandpaper. Their legs grew heavier and heavier, as though someone had quietly tied sandbags to their ankles.

"Sis... I, I really can't run anymore..."

Shinobu panted heavily, her little face flushed bright red.

Kanae was no better off. Her throat was painfully dry, and her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to shatter her ribs.

"Just... just a little longer, Shinobu."

Her voice came in fits and starts.

"We can't... we can't fail."

She remembered the look in Giyu's eyes when he had said those words!

Calm, with no threat or pressure, merely stating a fact.

But it was precisely that calm that filled Kanae with a fear that reached her very bones:

She was afraid not only of being sent away, but also of disappointing the person who had shouldered everything for them.

Just then, Shinobu suddenly tripped—

"Ah!"

A hemp cord, so thin it was almost invisible, lay across the middle of the path, blending perfectly with the dirt.

Shinobu pitched forward. Kanae instinctively reached out to catch her, but the momentum pulled her down too.

They both hit the ground, their elbows and knees striking hard gravel. They sucked in sharp breaths at the pain.

"Ow..."

Shinobu pushed herself up and looked at her scraped palm, where traces of blood were seeping out. Tears welled in her eyes.

Kanae checked her sister's injuries first. Only after making sure they were superficial did she look at the cord.

The cord had been carefully arranged, its ends tied to the roots of inconspicuous bushes, at just the right height to catch an ankle... It was a meticulously calculated trap.

"The first one..."

As soon as she spoke, a mechanism clicked softly in the woods ahead.

Both sisters looked up at once.

Several "human figures," crudely bound together from branches and vines, swung down from the trees, hurtling straight at their faces.

Though they knew the figures were fake, the sudden sight still made their hearts skip a beat.

Almost on instinct, Kanae grabbed Shinobu and rolled aside. The dummies grazed their backs and struck the ground, clattering apart into piles of dead branches.

Still shaken, the sisters panted as they looked over. A small wooden plaque lay exposed among the broken dummies, with words scrawled on it in charcoal:

"Your reactions pass, but you're too slow! A real demon is three times faster than this!"

—Sabito

Shinobu stared at the plaque and pouted.

"Th-this is too mean..."

Kanae, however, looked thoughtful.

She pulled her sister up and brushed the dust off both of them.

"Mr. Sabito is teaching us. Come on, there's not much time."

For the rest of the journey, they were like two wary young animals, careful with every step.

Their eyes searched for subtle differences in the color of the ground, their ears listened for unnatural sounds in the woods, and their noses sniffed for unusual scents.

White-painted branches that sprang up when stepped on, concealed shallow pits, barricades that required them to untie knots before they could pass... Every trap was cleverly designed and "merciful."

For instance, they only discovered after falling into that shallow pit that its bottom was covered with thick fallen leaves, making for a soft landing.

A line of small characters was carved into the pit wall:

"Watch for uneven ground. Real pit traps aren't this gentle."

The sisters gradually came to understand.

This was not a cruel trial meant to eliminate them. It was a senior's way of teaching them how to survive in a world full of danger before they truly faced life and death.

But the drain on their strength was real.

By the second half of the run, every time they lifted a leg, it felt as if they were dragging a block of iron.

Their lungs burned, their throats were parched, and their vision began to blur.

Shinobu stumbled and nearly fell several times. Kanae had to half support, half drag her forward.

"Sis... I can't..."

Shinobu's voice was thick with tears, which ran down her face with her sweat.

"I really... can't run anymore..."

Kanae had reached her own limit too.

Her legs were trembling, her thoughts beginning to scatter, and a voice kept repeating in her head:

Give up. This is too hard. Why put yourself through it...

But whenever that thought surfaced, other images flashed before her eyes—

Her mother lying in a pool of blood, purplish-blue strangulation marks on her neck.

Her father shouting for them to run before he was swallowed by a dark shadow.

Giyu standing in the morning light, saying, "I'll take full responsibility."

Master Urokodaki's stern face: "If you can't meet my requirements, I'll send you away without hesitation."

I can't give up.

Kanae bit down hard on the tip of her tongue, and the sharp pain cleared her head a little.

She gripped Shinobu's shoulders, her voice hoarse but firm.

"Shinobu... look ahead."

Shinobu raised her tear-blurred face.

The mountain path stretched ahead, vanishing into the morning mist.

They couldn't see the end, but Kanae pointed toward it.

"Mother and Father are watching us, and Mr. Giyu is waiting for us. If we fall here... what will all the efforts of the people who risked their lives for us amount to?"

Shinobu's lips trembled, but her tears stopped. She looked at her sister, at the flame in her eyes that refused to go out, and nodded hard.

Supporting each other, the sisters set off again.

One step, then another.

Their steps faltered and their bodies swayed, but they never truly stopped.

Sweat dripped into their eyes, stinging; gravel cut the soles of their feet, drawing blood; each breath tore at their chests, burning... But they kept moving forward.

Because to turn back would be to let them down.

To let down the dead, the living, and the boy who had reached out to them in their despair.

7:50 a.m.

In front of the cabin on Mount Sagiri, Sabito squatted beneath the eaves, turning a crude hourglass over in his hands.

Fine sand trickled slowly from one end to the other with a faint rustle.

Urokodaki stood beside him, his gaze beneath his mask fixed on the far end of the mountain path.

"Ten minutes left."

There was a hint of tension in Sabito's voice that even he didn't notice.

"Master, do you think they'll make it?"

Urokodaki did not answer.

His hands tucked into his sleeves, he stood straight, but the slight forward lean of his body betrayed his attention.

In truth, he didn't hold out much hope.

That circuit of the mountain path was a challenge even for an adult man, let alone two physically frail little girls who had just suffered the pain of losing their entire family.

The traps weren't lethal, but they would consume their already precious strength and time—

"They're coming!"

Sabito suddenly stood up, pleasant surprise in his voice.

At the end of the mountain path, the morning mist stirred.

Two small figures appeared.

It was the Kocho Sisters!!

They were a sorry sight:

Their clothes were covered in mud and bits of grass, their disheveled hair clung to their sweat-soaked faces, and the fabric at their elbows and knees had worn through, exposing bleeding scrapes beneath.

Kanae was practically carrying Shinobu as they moved forward. Their steps were unsteady and stumbling, like dolls that might fall apart at any moment.

But they were running.

Running with the last of their strength.

Urokodaki's pupils contracted slightly beneath his mask.

He saw an almost stubborn determination on the sisters' faces. Their lips were bitten white, but their eyes shone with startling brightness, a fire burning in them that refused to admit defeat.

"Keep going!"

Sabito couldn't help shouting, his fists clenched.

"The last hundred steps! Run!"

Kanae heard him.

She lifted her head and, through the blur of moisture, saw Urokodaki and Sabito beneath the eaves, and the white figure in the middle of the courtyard.

Giyu stood there quietly, the morning light tracing his outline in pale gold.

His white haori was spotless, a cruel contrast to their disheveled state.

There was little expression on his face, but his ice-blue eyes were fixed on them, watching intently, waiting.

At that moment, a surge of strength came over Kanae from she knew not where.

"Shinobu!"

She shouted hoarsely, "We're almost there!"

Shinobu raised her head too.

She saw Giyu, the figure who had descended like a god amid the ruins of Crimson Sakura Village.

Then she clenched her teeth and moved her legs, which had gone as weak as noodles.

Ninety-eight, ninety-seven, ninety-six...

The sisters mechanically counted their steps in their heads, using the numbers to fight their bodies' urge to collapse.

Fifty steps, forty steps, thirty steps...

Their vision began to sway, the world narrowing to the gravel path before them. Their breathing was as loud as broken bellows, and every breath carried the taste of blood.

Ten steps, nine steps, eight steps...

At last—

7:58 a.m.

Kanae and Shinobu stumbled past the old pine tree marking the edge of the courtyard, then both fell to the ground like puppets with their strings cut.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Kanae lay on the ground coughing violently, each cough racking her body.

Shinobu fell flat on her back, her chest heaving so hard she couldn't even move a finger.

The courtyard was silent except for the sisters' heavy breathing.

Sabito was the first to rush over, raising the hourglass to eye level.

"Seven fifty-eight and three seconds! You passed!"

He crouched down, a brilliant smile spreading across his face, his Warding Fox Mask unable to hide his delight.

"Amazing! I set twelve traps, and you only triggered five! I triggered nine on my first run, and Master gave me a thorough scolding!"

Kanae lifted her head with difficulty, sweat dripping from her bangs.

She wanted to smile, but her facial muscles no longer obeyed her. She could only manage to twitch the corners of her mouth.

"R-really...?"

"Of course!"

Sabito gave her a thumbs-up, his eyes curving into crescents.

"You did much better than me!"

Urokodaki walked over slowly.

His footsteps were light, making almost no sound on the damp earth.

He looked down at the sisters on the ground, his gaze passing over their scraped, bleeding palms, their muddy knees, and their sweat-soaked clothes clinging to their bodies.

Those marks were more convincing than any words.

After a long moment, he spoke, his voice somewhat gentler than usual.

"...Get up. The ground is cold."

Sabito reached out and helped the sisters up.

Kanae and Shinobu steadied themselves, leaning on each other. Their legs were still trembling uncontrollably, but their backs were straight.

Then their gazes passed over Sabito and Urokodaki to the center of the courtyard.

Giyu was still standing there.

His expression remained calm, but under the sisters' gazes, the corners of his lips, usually pressed into a straight line, lifted... by the tiniest fraction.

A nearly invisible smile.

So brief it seemed like an illusion.

But Kanae saw it.

Shinobu saw it too.

Kanae's vision suddenly blurred.

Not from sweat, nor from exhaustion, but because... she understood that fleeting curve.

It was approval.

The highest praise the boy who always carried every responsibility on his shoulders and struggled to express himself could give.

"Lord Giyu..."

Kanae spoke, her voice still breathless and hoarse, but clear.

"We... did it."

Shinobu tilted her little face up too.

She was so tired her eyelids kept drooping, but she still tried to open her eyes wide. Looking at the figure in white, she asked a question she had held in her heart for a long time:

"Now... can we call you senior brother Giyu now?"

The courtyard suddenly fell silent.

Sabito blinked and looked at Giyu. Urokodaki also turned his head, his gaze settling on his disciple from behind his mask.

Giyu remained silent.

Two seconds, or perhaps three.

Then he nodded.

"Yes."

A single, simple word.

But to the Kocho Sisters, that word was more precious than any flowery praise.

Kanae's tears finally fell.

She didn't wipe them away, letting the warm liquid run down her dirty cheeks, gather at her chin, and drip into the dirt.

Shinobu smiled too. Though tears and flecks of mud still clung to her face, she smiled like a true nine-year-old.

Watching the scene, Urokodaki let out a deep sigh.

There was no worry or doubt in this sigh, only a feeling of relief.

He suddenly remembered how, many years ago, a boy covered in wounds but with astonishingly bright eyes had knelt before him and said, "Please teach me how to kill demons."

Time came full circle, and the story played out again.

Only this time, a different group of people was telling it.

"Go wash up."

Urokodaki finally spoke, turning toward the house.

"Then come eat breakfast. Giyu hunted a wild boar. It's enough to help you regain your strength."

Sabito let out a cheer:

"Wild boar! Great! I'll go help prepare it!"

He bounded toward the kitchen like a cheerful titmouse.

Only Giyu and the two sisters remained in the courtyard.

Giyu turned and headed toward the kitchen. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back at the sisters, who were still standing there wiping away their tears.

"Why are you still standing there?"

His tone was matter-of-fact, but no longer cold.

"Aren't you hungry?"

Kanae and Shinobu exchanged a look.

The tear tracks on the older sister's face had yet to dry, and the younger sister's eyes were red and swollen, but both of them smiled through their tears at the same time.

"Hungry!"

Then the sisters supported each other as they followed Giyu. Their legs were still trembling, and every step was difficult, but they were moving forward.