o(*￣▽￣*)ブMany thanks to Juan Alberto manzanarez sanchez for becoming a new member!♥
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"Fuck—That was close!"
By the slimmest margin, Sakoma Iori managed to dodge the demon's Blood Demon Art.
She had just been about to back out of the cabin to search for Takeo and come up with a new plan—but the moment she stepped backward, she realized:
The door was sealed shut.
At some point, the demon's cloth had silently wrapped itself around it—locking it tight.
Iori: "…"
Damn it—it's a trap!
It finally hit her. The slightly ajar door had been bait. The crying infants—lures. The whole setup was a carefully constructed snare.
The woman used the cries to draw people in, tricking them into stepping inside—and then closed the trap to devour them whole.
This was her routine.
Iori should have realized it.
But she hadn't thought it through—too focused on the children inside. Her concern had led her straight into the demon's jaws.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm such an idiot for not noticing sooner!
She cursed herself silently—but even so, her reflexes didn't fail her.
Thanks to her old cultivator's brutal training, Iori's body reacted on pure instinct—allowing her to narrowly dodge cloth attacks so fast she could barely see them coming.
"Ah… ah, that sword… that skill… you must be one of those so-called demon hunters too, aren't you…?" the demon said in a pitiful, eerie tone.
"So scary… so cruel… why do all of you want to kill me? Why do you want to kill a poor, grieving mother who's lost her children… why?!"
After witnessing Iori's skillful dodge, the demon woman inexplicably began sobbing to herself.
Demons are monsters who've long lost their humanity. You must never be deceived by their appearance—or their performance.
That was one of the first lessons her old cultivator had drilled into her.
So Iori didn't feel even the slightest sympathy. She simply listened carefully, analyzing the demon's words.
Demon hunters…The demon had just mentioned "demon hunters," hadn't she?
That had to mean—other Demon Slayer Corps members had already come here.
But if that was true…Why was this demon still alive?!
…No. Deep down, Iori had already guessed the answer.
She just didn't want to admit it.
The reason this demon was still here—despite the Corps having already sent people—Was because those official slayers had died.
…Official slayers… were killed here, weren't they…? Ugh, come on! I'm not even officially in the Corps yet—why do I have to deal with something like this?!
Iori screamed in her head.
She honestly wanted to cry.
All she'd set out to do was participate in the Final Selection—So why the hell had it turned into this?!
This was completely unreasonable!
A demon that even official Corps members couldn't defeat—And they expected her, a mere trainee, to handle it? Was this some kind of joke?!
Sure, her cultivator had once said she had promise.
But she was still a newbie!
That storm of panic and frustration swelled inside her—and for just one moment, Iori lost focus.
Losing focus during battle was dangerous.
And almost immediately—she paid the price.
In the sea of writhing cloth, one strand whipped out from an unnatural angle and coiled tightly around her ankle.
The moment she felt the resistance tightening against her leg, Iori's eyes flew open.
"Crap—!"
WHAM!!
An overwhelming force surged through the cloth.
Her body was lifted clean off the ground—And in the next instant, she was slammed hard into the wall.
THUD!!!
It was just a wooden wall—But when her body slammed into it, it didn't even creak.
Iori, on the other hand, felt like her internal organs had been completely rattled loose. They throbbed painfully inside her, like they were being knocked around with every breath.
"Gah—!!"
Blood spewed from her lips as she struggled to steady her breathing.
But the demon had no intention of giving her time to recover.
A thick strip of green cloth, now tinged with a faint red aura, dropped down from above—aimed directly for Iori's head.
The demon's cloth was tougher than iron.
If she couldn't block or dodge it—That blow would kill her. Instantly.
But—
She couldn't move.
She had used too much time trying to control her breathing.
Iori's body trembled as her wide eyes locked onto the incoming cloth, streaking down toward her skull.
If this hits me… I'm dead.
Was this it? Was she going to die here… Before even becoming an official Demon Slayer?
The fear was overwhelming.
Time seemed to freeze. Her vision blurred. Death hovered so close, it was suffocating.
And then—
She wasn't sure if it was a hallucination. But in that moment…
She saw the figure of her old cultivator—her grandfather—standing before her
—Iori, don't give up.
…
"Hah… hah… but I really can't anymore…"
"Don't give up, Iori! Get up! Keep running!"
Her old cultivator—Grandpa—stood over her, smacking her with his wooden practice sword as she lay collapsed on the ground.
But even as the strikes landed, Iori made no move to get up.
Her stamina had completely run dry. She couldn't move a single finger.
"Sakoma Iori! Get up!!" her grandfather bellowed beside her ear. Then, without warning, he grabbed her arm and flung her forward with a jolt.
"Waaah!!"
Thrown upright against her will, Iori stumbled to her feet and started running again—her grandfather's relentless voice blaring beside her:
"You're not allowed to give up! Even when you hit a wall—Even when you're at your limit—Even when you can't stand on your own !As long as there's air in your lungs—As long as you can still breathe—you keep going!"
That's what he always said.
But…
Human bodies have limits, too, you know…
Iori grumbled silently in her heart, even as her feet carried her forward.
"If you give up, you die! If you don't want to die—then no matter what, never give up! Keep running, Iori!!"
Her cultivator was still shouting at her.
Keep running and I'll die faster!! It was because of this ridiculous, unreasonable training that most of his students ended up quitting!
Iori grumbled endlessly in her heart.
Her grandfather—the old man who trained her—was one of the oldest cultivators still active in the Demon Slayer Corps.
Probably the oldest.
He wasn't a Hashira. Even before retirement, he had only reached Kinoe, the second-highest rank below the Hashira. An injury to his leg had taken him off the battlefield and into a teaching role.
A very ordinary cultivator. Not a single one of his disciples had ever reached Hashira. Most hadn't even made it to Kinoe.
Still—he was the one who had trained Iori.
And if Iori was being honest… she didn't particularly like him! Not one bit!
Part of it was the brutal, over-the-top training.Another part was that she simply didn't think their personalities matched.
And deep down…
She resented the fact that he wasn't stronger.
She had heard there were former Hashira among the Corps' cultivators.If she had been lucky enough to be assigned to one of them—even the harshest training would've felt worth it.
But alas…
Trainees in the Demon Slayer Corps don't get to choose their cultivators.
Since she had no say in choosing her trainer, Iori had simply accepted her lot. But maybe it was because of that small grudge in her heart that she often ended up arguing with her grandfather.
Of course, Iori felt justified.
Her stamina would be completely drained, her whole body aching unbearably—And yet he would still force her to keep training.
That kind of training was just too much!
Who could possibly endure that?!
Always preaching about never giving up…
…
But what was the point of not giving up at a time like this…?
The demon's cloth was getting closer and closer—And yet, in that exact moment, Iori's body moved before her thoughts could catch up.
Breath laced with moisture escaped through her mouth and nose—And in the blink of an eye, Sakoma Iori raised her blade!
Crystal-clear water swirled around her like a ukiyo-e painting brought to life. It flowed along the edge of her sword—And in an instant, it slashed straight through the cloth closing in around her!
Her body moved on instinct.
Her whole form was carried by her Breathing Technique—The flow of Water Breathing surging through her limbs.
Water Breathing, Third Form—
The small figure darted between the incoming strips of cloth. With each step forward, waves of slashing water extended like ripples from her blade.
In a single instant—Every strip of cloth around her was cleanly severed!
—Flowing Dance!
The Third Form.
This was the technique that Iori had successfully executed!
Up until now, she had only mastered the First, Second, and Fifth Forms of Water Breathing—but now, she had pulled off the Third Form in the heat of battle!
However… just that alone wasn't enough to cut off the demon's head!
Though she'd torn through the cloth, the infant clinging to the demon's neck was still there. If she followed through with an attack—even if she killed the demon, the child hanging around its neck would die too!
She couldn't aim for the demon's neck.
But if she didn't, she might very well die here.
As her body pushed beyond its limit, Iori's mind whirled frantically. Within the span of a single breath, she came up with a plan.
She shifted her target.
With the momentum left over from Flowing Dance, she used its speed to rush past the demon, sprinting straight toward the wall behind her!
Her blade flipped mid-motion, aiming not for flesh—but for the structure behind.
From above, the cascading water spiraled like a wheel—crashing down in a powerful arc.
Water Breathing, Second Form — Water Wheel!
Boom!!!
The wall split apart with a thunderous crack,a massive fissure opening up before Iori.
Fresh air rushed into the room,the clean breeze clearing her foggy mind.
Without a moment's hesitation,Iori gathered every ounce of breath in her lungs—and shouted through the crack:
"I'm—right—here!! SOMEONE—HELP—ME—!!"
"You so cruel, Demon hunter... No one's coming to save you."
The demon's voice echoed coldly behind her.And in the next moment—the cloths in the room surged toward Iori even faster,like a tidal wave about to crush her where she stood.
Maybe this is how it ends, Iori thought.
That foul-mouthed little brat…He was probably too far away.Even if he was strong—he couldn't possibly make it in time from that distance.
Iori understood that. She wasn't naive.
But still—
He'll come.
They had only just met,but for some inexplicable reason, Iori believed in that red-haired boy.
But it wasn't intuition or some kind of gut feeling—it was simply because…
She saw the red-haired figure!
"Wind Breathing, Eighth Form—"
That small frame surged through the mist, riding the wind.
In the blink of an eye, the figure leapt from the distance and landed in front of Iori.
A wild yet gentle gust blew into the room through the cracked wall, and that figure—Takeo—had already swept past Iori, charging straight for the demon in the center.
Wind blades tore through the demon's cloth attacks, slicing cleanly in all directions—every strand of hanging cloth severed at once.
At the same time, scarlet blood burst from the demon's body.It soaked the green fabric, pooling darkly on the floor.
"—Primary Gale Slash!"
The name of the technique echoed after the strike had already landed.
And the demon had already been dismembered.
Her limbs severed, her torso fell heavily to the floor.
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