Shinobu was bullied?

The exhaustion of the long journey had left little trace on Takanashi Rokuno.

He wore the black combat uniform specially made by the Demon Slayer Corps, with his deep blue haori over it and a heavy katana, wider and thicker than an ordinary Nichirin Blade, hanging at his waist. Old man Jigoro Kuwajima had called in a favor to have it forged in a rush. It weighed a full two times as much as an ordinary sword, yet at Rokuya's waist, it seemed to weigh nothing.

Several days had passed since he left Mount Sagiri. Relying on his freakish reflexes and system-enhanced physique, Rokuya had traveled day and night. Now and then, the faces of those three characters on Mount Sagiri as he departed still surfaced in his mind-Makomo blushing as she pressed a protective charm into his hand, Sabito's prickly expression that said, "If you don't come back alive, I'll go to hell and challenge you myself," and Giyu Tomioka's remark, "Leave me your sword after you die," which made him want to headbutt him into the ground.

"Those brats. Once I become a full-fledged member, I'm going back to drill three layers of skin off them." A dangerous smile curled Rokuya's lips as he reached into his clothes and touched the faintly fragrant charm.

The view ahead gradually opened up, and an unusual floral fragrance drifted into his nose on the night breeze.

Rokuya raised his head, his pupils contracting slightly.

What a magnificent sight it was-wisteria blossomed across the mountainside beneath the night sky, giving off a faint purple glow. The flowers hung like waterfalls, enveloping the entire mountaintop in a dreamlike purple sea. In a place with four distinct seasons, the wisteria here seemed to defy the laws of nature, blooming with abandon. Beneath that beauty lay a hint of suffocating eeriness.

This was Mount Fujikasane, the site of the Final Selection.

Rokuya climbed the stone steps carpeted with wisteria petals and soon reached a broad clearing halfway up the mountain.

Around twenty or thirty boys and girls carrying swords had already gathered there. Yet the atmosphere was utterly at odds with the dreamlike beauty around them.

Oppression, fear, tension-these emotions hung over everyone's heads like tangible storm clouds.

"Hey... have you heard? In the last selection, twenty people went in, and only four came out alive..." A boy with center-parted hair spoke in a trembling voice, gripping his sword hilt so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"S-stop talking! I never wanted to come in the first place. My father forced me... The mountain's full of man-eating demons. We're going to be eaten!" A frail girl beside him crouched on the ground, covered her face, and began to sob quietly.

"Be quiet! What good will crying do? Grip your sword! Otherwise, you'll only die faster!" another, slightly older-looking swordsman snapped. But his constantly shifting eyes and faintly trembling calves had long since betrayed the fear inside him.

Rokuya watched the scene coldly without speaking. He merely walked beneath a wisteria tree, folded his arms, and leaned against its trunk, closing his eyes to rest.

Being weak was no sin, but at a moment when life and death hung in the balance, lacking even the courage to draw a sword really was asking to die. He was no savior. He had come here with only one purpose-to kill every demon in sight, earn a massive amount of Gratitude Points, and then establish himself in the Demon Slayer Corps.

"Rokuya?"

Just then, a voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, yet brimming with delighted surprise and gentleness, cut through the fearful clamor around him and reached his ears.

Rokuya's eyes snapped open, and he looked toward the voice.

At the edge of the crowd nearby stood a figure who instantly softened his heart.

Long, waist-length black hair stirred gently in the breeze, with pink butterfly ornaments adorning either side. Though she wore a somewhat oversized swordsman's uniform, it could not hide her warmth and gentleness, soothing as a spring breeze. Her eyes held a reassuring light. Even among these frightened swordsmen, she was like a white lotus standing proudly in the mud, lovely and untainted by dust.

It was Kanae Kocho.

"Kanae." Rokuya's icy expression thawed instantly, and a tenderness even he did not notice flickered in his eyes. He straightened and strode toward her.

As Kanae watched the tall figure approaching her, her eyes instantly reddened. She hurried to meet him, stopping half a step away and tilting her head up slightly to look at the man who had descended like a god into that dark alley and pulled her and her younger sister out of the abyss of despair.

In the months since they had last met, Rokuya had grown a little taller, and his shoulders had broadened. Though he kept the sharpness in his eyes restrained, he gave off an oppressive presence like an unsheathed blade. Yet when he looked at her, that pressure instantly transformed into an unparalleled sense of safety.

"It really is you, Rokuya. I was so afraid I'd never see you again..." Kanae said softly, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. But she quickly wiped them away with her fingers and gave him a breathtaking smile. "I knew you would come here."

"What are you crying for? Aren't I standing right here in one piece?" Rokuya reached out with his large, rough hand and unceremoniously ruffled Kanae's hair, leaving her neatly arranged locks a little disheveled. "You silly girl. Why didn't you stay put with your Cultivator? What are you doing coming to this hellhole?"

Kanae did not dodge. She let Rokuya muss her hair and even narrowed her eyes in contentment, like a docile kitten.

"I want to become someone who can protect others too. I can't always hide behind you, Rokuya." Kanae tidied her hair, determination entering her eyes. "I've spent these past few months working desperately hard to learn Flower Breathing. My Cultivator said I've fully mastered every form and am qualified to take the Final Selection. I want... I want to become a full-fledged member soon, so I can help you."

Something stirred faintly in Rokuya's heart at the determination in Kanae's eyes. He knew that beneath this girl's gentle exterior lay a tenacity few could match.

"All right. Since you're here, stick close to me." Rokuya sighed, then changed the subject. "What about that little girl Shinobu? She didn't join you in this nonsense, did she?"

At the mention of her younger sister's name, the brightness in Kanae's eyes immediately dimmed. She sighed softly, her slender finger touching her chin out of habit, and her voice filled with worry. "Shinobu... isn't doing well at all right now."

"What happened? Did someone bully her?" Rokuya's eyes instantly turned cold. His hand slammed onto the hilt of his heavy katana, and a faint murderous aura escaped him without his realizing it. "Who did it? I'll go chop him in half right now!"