"That demon... has appeared."
"Sakonji Urokodaki's" voice was low and heavy.
Makomo froze for a moment, unable to understand. Just which demon could make her master so concerned?
"Stay on Mount Sagiri and train hard. When I return, I'll continue teaching you..."
"Sakonji Urokodaki" turned back, gave Makomo a few reminders, then turned and left.
"Master, remember to eat properly! You haven't eaten for days. Your health will..."
The girl watched her master walk away, wanting to say more about taking care of himself, but he had already vanished from sight.
The vast Mount Sagiri stood empty, with only the girl's solitary figure left behind.
That demon? Which demon?
Makomo pondered in silence, and before she knew it, she had reached the giant boulder in the forest.
The enormous stone was covered in blade marks, some old, some new. Many of her fellow disciples, both senior and junior, had left their marks here.
Makomo gently brushed her hand over the two newest cuts. Sabito and Giyu Tomioka had left them before taking the trial on Mount Fujikasane, but neither had returned.
Her master had not told her the outcome, but she already had an inkling.
She bit her lip without realizing it.
She shook her head and stopped dwelling on it.
For any swordsman of the Demon Slayer Corps, death was inevitable. They could not remain trapped in grief forever. They had to keep moving forward, wiping away their tears and carrying on even as they cried.
Even if she was not a swordsman yet, she would become one someday.
She wanted desperately to cry, but she pressed her lips together, refusing to let her tears fall. At the same time, she kept her mind working so she would no longer dwell on those sorrowful things.
Only the Twelve Kizuki could make Master so concerned. If it were merely an ordinary Lower Rank demon, the higher-ups wouldn't need to disturb him in his retirement. Could it be an Upper Rank Demon from the Twelve Kizuki? But even an Upper Rank Demon could be dealt with by another Hashira. There would be no need to trouble Master. After all, although he's still a Hashira, he's very old and has been living in seclusion for a long time.
Could it be...
All at once, Makomo understood just what could make the Demon Slayer Corps call on her master.
Only the source of all demons in this world could make the higher-ups so desperate to bring her master out of retirement.
As a Hashira of the older generation, her master had extensive experience dealing with demons, something many swordsmen-even other Hashira-lacked. On top of that, his sense of smell was extraordinarily keen. He could judge people's emotions by their scent and identify demons disguised as humans...
It could only be him. Only that demon could shake her master so badly.
That's right.
It could only be the progenitor of demons, Muzan Kibutsuji.
At that moment, Makomo clenched her fists.
Every member of the Demon Slayer Corps knew of the progenitor of demons, Muzan Kibutsuji. None would ever forget that name, that...
The Demon Slayer Corps' ultimate target.
He was also the very reason the Demon Slayer Corps existed.
Only by slaying Muzan Kibutsuji could they rid this world of demons for good.
But...
Slaying Muzan Kibutsuji was far too difficult.
Not only was Muzan Kibutsuji incredibly powerful, but he was also far too good at hiding.
As far as she knew, Muzan Kibutsuji could not only blend perfectly into a crowd, but also freely change his appearance and even his sex. Moreover, because all demons were created from Muzan Kibutsuji's blood, every one of them bore his curse. If they so much as spoke his name, they would self-destruct.
That made it impossible for the Demon Slayer Corps to find Muzan Kibutsuji through other demons.
What was more, Muzan Kibutsuji was so cautious that his appearances over the past thousand years could be counted on one hand.
The last time Muzan Kibutsuji had appeared was when the location of the Demon Slayer Corps Headquarters had been exposed. It was the first time in centuries that he had truly taken action, and he had nearly killed the Master outright. To protect the Master, the Demon Slayer Corps swordsmen who practiced Sun Breathing had fought desperately to hold him back, allowing the Master to escape.
But as a result, almost all the swordsmen who practiced Sun Breathing had perished in that battle.
It had also caused the practice of Sun Breathing to disappear from the Demon Slayer Corps.
As things stood, the Demon Slayer Corps no longer had any swordsmen who practiced Sun Breathing.
If only we could really find Muzan Kibutsuji and slay him once and for all.
Standing before the boulder, Makomo thought in silence. If Muzan Kibutsuji could be slain, so many people would no longer be killed by demons or have their happiness destroyed, and so many others would not have to die while hunting them.
"Ah..."
The girl let out a soft sigh, gently brushed her hand over the marks on the boulder, then turned and returned to the house halfway up the mountain. There, she took down the sword hanging on the wall.
A Nichirin Blade of her own.
Ordinarily, only those who passed the swordsman selection on Mount Fujikasane would receive a Nichirin Blade custom-made for them by the Demon Slayer Corps.
But she was a disciple of Sakonji Urokodaki, the Water Hashira. On top of that, Sakonji Urokodaki was good friends with a swordsmith from the Swordsmith Village, so she had received special treatment. That friend of her master's had forged a Nichirin Blade just for her.
In fact, she was not the only one with her own Nichirin Blade. Sabito had one too, as did the senior disciples who had gone to take the selection on Mount Fujikasane.
Master called in favors again and again, filled with hope each time, only to be disappointed over and over...
Makomo drew the blade from its sheath and gently stroked its edge. Feeling the chill of the steel, she narrowed her eyes into lovely slits.
Just how difficult is the selection on Mount Fujikasane, for even Sabito not to return?
The girl bit her lip slightly, remembering how her master had sat alone at the summit after receiving the news. She remembered his stooped back as he sat alone in his room, gently stroking the warding fox masks he had once made.
"No matter what, I have to pass next year's selection on Mount Fujikasane. I can't let Master down again." The girl gently stroked the blade, then carefully slid it back into its sheath.
She shut the door, raised her head, and looked in the direction "Hiroshi Furukawa" had gone, murmuring, "The selection on Mount Fujikasane means surviving seven days on a mountaintop where demons live."
As she spoke, Makomo pressed the fox mask on her face down slightly, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "Then let me see these so-called demons for myself. Let me find out exactly
how far apart those demons and I really are."
"Only then can I be sure I'll truly pass next year's selection."
With a light push off the ground, the girl set off in pursuit, heading in the direction "Hiroshi Furukawa" had gone.