A bright and sunny afternoon.
"Northwest! Northwest! Eliminate the demon residing on Mount Shiroi! Hurry, hurry!" The rough voice shattered the midday calm. It was a large black crow flapping its wings and... speaking human words?!
This was a Kasugai Crow, a special crow trained by the Demon Slayer Corps. Every member of the Corps had their own Kasugai Crow as a companion. These crows were crucial for relaying information among the slayers and for the headquarters to issue hunting missions.
Below the cawing Kasugai Crow were a few figures, racing swiftly along the road. They wore wide haori cloaks over black uniforms resembling student attire. Each member had a sheathed sword strapped to their belt. The swords varied in length, shape, and color, and they were the fabled Nichirin Blades — the only weapons capable of slaying demons.
Hearing the urging of the Kasugai Crow, the group of slayers sped up under the lead of a rank-five Tsuguko swordsman. As they dashed ahead, their haori fluttered, revealing the large "滅" (Destroy) character printed on the back of their uniforms.
"Kawachi-senpai! Everyone's exhausted. Can we take a short break? If we keep going like this, people won't make it," one of the younger slayers requested of the leader, the fifth-rank swordsman.
The Demon Slayer Corps had a strict hierarchy, with members ranked from highest to lowest as Kinoe, Kinoto, Hinoe, Hinoto, Tsuchinoe, Tsuchinoto, Kanoe, Kanoto, Mizunoe, and Mizunoto. The higher the rank, the stronger the slayer. Above the rank of Kinoe were the strongest swordsmen, who were called "Hashira" (Pillars).
Becoming a Hashira was no easy feat. There were two criteria: slay fifty demons as a Kinoe-rank swordsman or kill one of the Twelve Kizuki (Upper and Lower Moon Demons).
Kawachi, the fifth-rank swordsman, turned back and looked at his comrades. Just as the younger slayer said, some of the lower-ranked slayers were out of breath. Having no choice, Kawachi decided to let everyone take a short break. To keep his Kasugai Crow from disturbing his comrades, Kawachi took out some sunflower seeds from his pocket to feed it.
The younger demon slayers, who finally got a break, started joking around.
"I'm exhausted. I feel like I can't feel my legs anymore."
"Yeah, Mount Shiroi is really far. I wonder how many demons are up there — I hope there's enough for us to kill."
"Don't be ridiculous, Shinta. Everyone knows you wet your pants on your first mission when a demon scared you. You even yelled for your mom! Hahaha!"
"Shut it, Takeshi! You're spilling my secrets!"
Kawachi watched his comrades fool around, shaking his head slightly. His personality made it hard for him to fit in. When he was a child, Kawachi had survived a demon attack, but at the cost of his family and his tongue. Ever since then, he could no longer speak. Harboring deep hatred for demons, Kawachi joined the Demon Slayer Corps and worked diligently for three years, becoming a formidable Tsuchinoe swordsman.
Though he couldn't speak, Kawachi's keen observation skills allowed him to notice things others missed. At the moment, his eyes were on another figure who was also sitting alone.
Underneath an old, faded green haori, an elderly figure sat resting, his frail body looking as though it could be blown away by the wind. His face was full of wrinkles, his hair a mix of white and gray. The uniform wrapping his body was different from the others; it was older and more traditional in style. The only thing about him that seemed new was the Nichirin Blade hanging at his waist, with a deep green hilt.
Kawachi couldn't quite understand why this elderly man, named Moriki, who had retired from the Corps decades ago, was so determined to join their hunting party. From Kawachi's point of view, at Moriki's age, he should be working as a cultivator, training the next generation of slayers. After all, it was extremely rare for any demon slayer to live to an old age.
However, after their long journey, Kawachi's view of the old man had started to change. Even though Kawachi himself felt a bit fatigued, Moriki showed no sign of exhaustion, his breathing steady. He now rested while holding onto his Nichirin Blade, his eyes closed.
"The instincts of a hunter do not lie. I can sense it. The person truly suited for the Breath of the Forest has finally appeared. Ancestors, watch over me. Let this be the time the Breath of the Forest is revived," Moriki murmured to his Nichirin Blade.
As time passed, the mighty sun began to set, and the light that could eliminate any demon gradually faded. As day turned into night, Kawachi and the others finally arrived at Shiroi Village.
The village was in chaos. Many elderly villagers were running from house to house, calling for their family members.
Kawachi, unable to speak, gestured for one of the Mizunoto-ranked slayers to inquire about the situation. After asking around, they learned that a group of young men from the village had organized themselves, taking various makeshift weapons, and had charged up Shiroi Mountain. The older villagers were worried, some crying out, "It's the Mountain Demon! Those foolish kids are heading straight to their doom. That mountain truly has a demon."
"This is bad. I spoke to some people in the village, and at least twenty of them went up the mountain. If something happens to them, it will make the demon even more dangerous," Kawachi's partner, Tsuchinoe-ranked swordsman Hatamoto, whispered.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Kawachi quickly gave orders. There were eight of them, including the old man Moriki, so they split into four groups, approaching Mount Shiroi from different directions to search. They were instructed not to engage if they encountered the demon; instead, they were to quickly signal the others.
Kawachi signed: "Be cautious, everyone. Fight well."
With that, the Demon Slayer Corps members dispersed at the village entrance, swiftly moving into the dark forest behind the village.
The night was still, and the moonlight bathed Mount Shiroi, not making it appear any less eerie. The mountain was silent, stripped of the usual liveliness of the forest. It was enveloped in an unsettling aura, a faint sense of death pervading everything.
Moriki bent down, grabbing a handful of dirt from the ground, his thick eyebrows knitting together in concern. Behind him, a nervous Mizunoto-ranked slayer held his Nichirin Blade tightly, scanning their surroundings cautiously, afraid that a demon might suddenly lunge at them.
"Hey, old man! Don't wander off so far! Be careful, or a demon might attack!" called out the young demon slayer upon noticing how far Moriki had wandered. From his point of view, the old man deserved respect for his desire to hunt demons, but he was way too old to actually face one in battle.
Moriki placed his aged, almost gnarled hand against a large tree, closing his eyes as a faint green glow flickered from his palm.
Sniffing the air, Shinichi halted near a small stream, assessing the surroundings. "Enji, it's your turn now."
Enji barked happily, hopping off Shinichi's shoulder. In an instant, the demon blood within Enji activated, and the small Shiba Inu became a streak of black lightning darting through the undergrowth.
Through their mental connection, Shinichi quickly sensed Enji's thoughts. "I'm picking up a bad scent!" was the message.
It seemed there was indeed a demon on this mountain. Shinichi flexed his fingers, his dark claws gleaming faintly in the moonlight. But before he could advance, Enji sent another thought. "There's another scent — humans. Strong ones."
"Others? Humans have already climbed the mountain?" Shinichi was startled.