On Mount Shirai.
Figures clad in black were bustling about, wearing uniforms similar to those of the Demon Slayer Corps, but with the large character "Hidden" written on their backs.
Their faces were covered with masks and hats adorned with white stripes.
They were the "Kakushi" of the Demon Slayer Corps, a division specifically tasked with handling post-battle cleanup.
Most of its members were those without swordsmanship talent and many swordsmen who had lost their combat abilities but were unwilling to retire voluntarily joined this unit.
The Kakushi primarily took on responsibilities such as medical care and evacuation within the Demon Slayer Corps.
Although the combat abilities of its members were low, they made outstanding contributions to the hunt for demons in their own way.
Without the efforts of the Kakushi members, the Demon Slayer Corps would not have been able to fight powerful demons so easily.
The body of Kawachi was carefully placed on a stretcher by the Kakushi members, while the remains of other fallen Demon slayers were respectfully and meticulously collected by them.
Many innocent villagers who had been brutally slaughtered by the demon were also gathered by the Kakushi members.
As one Kakushi member passed by a stretcher covered with a dark tarp, he suddenly heard faint breathing coming from beneath it.
Noticing the blood seeping from the edges of the tarp, the Kakushi member immediately realized that there was a severely injured person inside.
Driven by his instinctive duty, he quickly fetched his medical kit to treat the wounded.
But just as the Kakushi member reached out to lift the tarp, a thin yet strong hand grabbed his wrist first.
"Huh? Old man, what are you doing? Please let go so I can treat this injured person!" the Kakushi member asked, puzzled.
The one who grabbed him was an elderly man named Moriki, who had some bandages wrapped around his body.
In his arms, he held a weak Shiba Inu and a faint green glow emanated from his hand, though it was barely noticeable under the glaring sunlight.
"This is my disciple, not a member of the Demon Slayer Corps. There's no need to trouble yourself. I've already treated his wounds, and now he needs rest."
The Kakushi member grew agitated upon hearing this and raised his arm in protest.
"Old man! We don't just serve our own members! Helping other humans harmed by demons is also our duty! Please don't say that!"
However, Moriki didn't argue back.
He simply smiled and shook his head. The Kakushi member wanted to say more, but a large hand patted his shoulder from behind.
"Young man, your help is needed more over there. Let me talk with this old man."
Seeing that it was the Flame Hashira order, the Kakushi member had no choice but to leave and assist elsewhere, casting a frustrated glance at the silent Elder Moriki before departing.
Rengoku Shinjuro, with one hand resting on the hilt of his Nichirin Blade, walked over to Elder Moriki. He first glanced at the old uniform Elder Moriki was wearing, then tried to strike up a conversation.
"Old man, were you once a swordsman of the Demon Slayer Corps?"
Elder Moriki looked down at his uniform, a hint of nostalgia flashing in his eyes, but ultimately, he shook his head with a bitter smile.
"No, I was just a cowardly deserter."
"You killed a Lower Moon demon, old man. That achievement alone is enough to surpass most of the younger generation in the Demon Slayer Corps today."
Elder Moriki sighed with regret and seeing the desolate expression on his face, Shinjuro decided not to press further and shifted the topic to the stretcher on the ground.
"Old man, what's in the stretcher... is it a Demon?"
Whoosh!
Shinjuro clearly felt a fleeting, sharp aura.
Elder Moriki hand, which had been stroking the little Shiba Inu in his arms, paused for a second.
"As expected of a powerful swordsman bearing the title of Hashira, your perception is quite sharp. However, Hashira-sama, why haven't you acted upon knowing that there's a Demon beneath the stretcher?"
Shinjuro hand, resting on the hilt of his Nichirin Blade, tightened slightly but eventually loosened.
"I received a message from Oyakata-sama via a Kasugai Crow. Although it's hard to believe, Oyakata-sama has agreed to your request and wishes for the Breath of the Forest to regain its former glory."
At the mention of Oyakata-sama, a fleeting image passed through Elder Moriki eyes.
The kind Oyakata-sama from his memories had likely long since passed away, a victim of the Ubuyashiki family curse...
Though he didn't know which Ubuyashiki currently led the Demon Slayer Corps, Elder Moriki wasn't surprised that Oyakata-sama had agreed to his request.
Every Master of the Demon Slayer Corps was equally benevolent and great.
"Rest assured, I, Moriki Mitsuyo, swear on my life that this child will inherit the Breath of the Forest and become a powerful Demon Slayer."
Shinjuro didn't respond.
In truth, he was merely following Oyakata-sama orders.
At the same time, he might be one of the only three people who knew of Elder Moriki request.
To train a Demon to become a Demon Slayer?
It sounded like a joke.
What kind of creatures were Demons?
Cruel, brutal, bloodthirsty, and man-eating—these were the inherent traits of Demons.
In the eyes of all Demon Slayer swordsmen, decapitation was the ultimate fate of every Demon.
However, out of respect for Oyakata-sama (even though Oyakata-sama was just a teenager) and the confirmation from the Kasugai Crow that the Demon had helped the Demon Slayer Corps to kill Lower Moon Four, along with Elder Moriki Mitsuyo, the last inheritor of the Breath of the Forest, he swear on his life that he was willing to keep the secret.
"In that case, old man, I look forward to seeing a powerful swordsman rise within the Demon Slayer Corps. However, Oyakata-sama has one final question for you, killing a Lower Moon is enough to earn the title of Hashira. Are you truly unwilling to accept the title of Hashira?"
Elder Moriki looked down at the green Nichirin Blade in his hand and finally shook his head.
"No, I am unworthy of the title of Hashira. From the moment I abandoned my comrades, I became nothing but a shameful deserter."
"Understood, old man. Until we meet again!"
***
It hurts!
My head feels like it's splitting in two.
In the midst of the chaos, Shinichi felt a sharp pain in his head, as if someone was hacking at it with an axe.
As Shinichi struggled, a flash of green light suddenly appeared ahead, dazzling and blinding.
When the green light gradually faded, Shinichi saw that figure again—the green haori, the casually tied black hair and the long sheathed sword hanging from the simple leather belt at his waist.
However, this time, the figure slowly turned around and Shinichi could clearly see the person face. It was a very handsome and youthful face, with a pair of exceptionally vivid emerald green eyes.
As Shinichi looked at this person, those emerald green eyes were also gazing at him.
"Who are you!?"
Finally, it was Shinichi who couldn't hold back and shouted the question.
But as soon as Shinichi words fell, cracks suddenly appeared on the person face.
The handsome visage was instantly covered in fissures, like porcelain on the verge of shattering.
The emerald green light in one of the eyes abruptly extinguished and in a moment, a crimson red glow ignited from within the pupil.
Boom!!
It seemed as if an invisible wave of air surged around the person.
"Is this... Raging Blood?!"