He continued walking forward.
Kanae Kocho watched his retreating figure, remaining silent for a long time.
Then she chuckled softly.
"Depends on my mood...?"
She lifted her skirt and followed him.
Mount Fujikasane, noon.
Petals drifted in the wind like purple snowflakes, landing on the mountain path, on the torii gate, and on the faces of those who waited, prayed, and were anxious.
At the foot of the mountain stood a dozen or so people.
They came to see them off.
Family, friends, or simply fellow swordsmen.
Their faces held expectation, worry, and a sense of unease that they might never see each other again.
The mountain gate was tightly closed.
Inside the gate lay a mountain surrounded by wisteria blossoms, a place teeming with ghosts.
The Final Selection has been underway for three days.
Four days left.
Higashino Makoto stood outside the mountain gate, looking up at the wisteria blossoms.
"This is it."
Momo stood behind him, her purple eyes also gazing at the sea of flowers.
"Cheng-san, how do you plan to get in?"
"Go inside."
Higashino Makoto strode forward.
"Stop!"
An old man's voice came from behind.
Higashino Makoto stopped and turned around.
An elderly man with white hair stood before him, leaning on a wooden cane, his gray eyes filled with vigilance.
Who are you? What are you doing here?
Higashino Makoto's tone was flat.
"I just want to go in and take a look."
The old man frowned.
"You don't know where you are?"
"I know. Mount Fujikasane. The Final Selection location for the Demon Slayer Corps."
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I told you, I wanted to go inside and take a look."
Higashino Makoto interrupted him.
"Don't worry, I won't affect the selection; I'm just observing."
The old man looked at him for a long time, but still refused.
"You can't go in. That's the rule."
"Rules are made by people."
Higashino Makoto strode forward.
"Get out of the way."
The old man tried to stop him, but his body moved on its own, and he obediently stood aside.
"Magic is really convenient."
Higashino Makoto walked past him and pushed open the mountain gate.
Inside the gate was a dense forest.
The air was filled with the fragrance of wisteria blossoms, mixed with the scent of earth and grass, and a faint, almost imperceptible smell of blood.
Higashino Makoto took a deep breath.
"Interesting."
He stepped into the forest.
Momo followed behind him, and the three butterfly sisters followed behind her.
Five people walked into the mountain surrounded by wisteria blossoms, a mountain filled with ghosts.
Deep in the forest, a young swordsman is on the run.
He was covered in injuries, and his left arm was bent at an unnatural angle, clearly broken.
The Nichirin Blade was still held in his right hand, but the blade was covered with cracks and could break at any moment.
A ghost was chasing him from behind.
The demon was very large, about two meters tall, and its entire body was covered with black scales.
Its eyes were red, gleaming with a hungry light.
Why are you running?
The ghost's voice was deep and hoarse.
"Since I'm going to die anyway, I might as well have a quick and painless meal."
The young swordsman didn't answer. He just ran. He ran for his life.
But my legs were no longer under my control; every step felt like walking on cotton, soft and yielding, without any solid support.
The ghost is getting closer and closer.
He could smell the stench emanating from the ghost, like the stench of a long-dead animal carcass.
I'm going to die.
He thought.
I'm going to die here.
Like their fallen comrades.
"Help--"
His voice was hoarse and almost inaudible.
"Someone, please save me!"
No one answered.
Only the laughter of ghosts echoed through the forest.
Then, time stopped.
The young swordsman had no idea what was happening. He only saw the demon's movements suddenly freeze, as if it had been immobilized by something.
The red eyes were still open, the mouth was still agape, but all movement had stopped.
The wind stopped, the leaves the Unassailable, and even the sunlight dimmed.
Then he heard footsteps.
Unhurried and methodical.
A man with black hair and golden eyes emerged from the woods, walked up to him, and stopped.
Do you need any help?
His voice was calm, as if he were asking, "The weather is nice today."
The young swordsman opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.
He simply stared at the man, at those golden eyes, at that handsome, expressionless face.
"Who... who are you?"
"A kind passerby who heard the cries for help."
Higashino Makoto crouched down and looked at him.
Your hand is broken.
"I--I know--"
Does it hurt?
"Pain."
Higashino Makoto nodded, reached out, and gently touched his left arm.
A pale golden light emanated from his fingertips and enveloped his arm.
The sound of bones realigning echoed in the air, while the sound of muscles regenerating was subtle yet clear.
A few seconds later, the young swordsman's left hand returned to normal.
"Thank you--thank you--"
"You're welcome."
Higashino Makoto stood up, turned around, and looked at the frozen ghost.
Did you just shout for help?
"Yes--"
"Who are you shouting this for?"
The young swordsman was stunned.
"What?"
"Who are you shouting this for?"
Higashino Makoto repeated it.
God? Or man?
The young swordsman fell silent.
He didn't know how to answer.
He just wanted to live.
So they shouted.
"I--I don't know--"
"It's okay if you don't know."
Higashino Makoto turned around to face the demon.
"Now, I'll show you whether this so-called God truly exists."
Huginn flew out from the tattoo near Higashino Makoto's ear and landed on his shoulder, its golden eyes gleaming with Wisdom.
"Grown ups."
"Traces the ghost's soul."
"Yes, sir."
Huginn closed his eyes.
Its body began to glow.
Light surged from its body, enveloping the ghost frozen in Time Stop.
A few seconds later, the ghost's body began to change.
Its body transformed into countless black specks of light, starting from its head and scattering in all directions.
The point of light spun in the air and then sank into the ground.
"Underground."
Huginn opened his eyes.
Its soul went underground.
How deep?
"It's very deep, beyond my perception."
Higashino Makoto nodded.
"Hell."
He said in a low voice.
"Or a place like hell."
He turned around and looked at the young swordsman.
"You, come here."
The young swordsman walked up to him, his legs still trembling.
"Stand still, don't move."
Higashino Makoto raised his hand, and a pale golden light appeared in his palm.
The light flew toward the young swordsman and enveloped his body.
"Sir, are you going to kill him?"
Huginn's voice carried a hint of confusion.
"I won't kill him, I'm just marking him."
"Mark?"
"Yes, mark it."
Higashino Makoto withdrew his hand.
"If he dies, where will his soul go? Heaven? Or somewhere else?"
He paused.
I want to know.
The young swordsman's face turned pale.
"You... you want me to die?"
"No."
Higashino Makoto shook his head.
"I simply won't save you anymore; your life or death after that is none of my concern."