Haruto felt like something was... off.
White text continued to appear, sliding in from the right side of his vision and disappearing to the left.
[Is this really the 13-year-old boy?]
[And 13-year-old Sabito too... My precious babies~]
[Giyuu... hehehe... Giyuu...]
Something strange was invading his world.
Haruto frowned, feeling as though the very fabric of reality was unraveling around him.
Why hadn't he seen anything like this in the past 14 years?
His gaze shifted toward the sea of wisteria blossoms, and a thought struck him.
Could it be that he had finally encountered... a character from the story?
Maybe this world really was an anime playing on some streaming platform, and meeting a "plot-relevant" character had triggered the floating comments.
After all, his first 14 years of life had nothing to do with the story's events. Without plot involvement, no comments would appear.
He rubbed his stomach absently.
Great. Overthinking was making him hungry.
As he discreetly scanned the Ubuyashiki family's gathering for any sign of a last meal for the participants, a particular comment caught his attention:
[This silver-haired guy is really handsome, but too bad he's getting killed in a second.]
[Right? Out of everyone this year, he's got the worst luck. One second in, and he's already ghosting out.
"Silver-haired guy..."
Haruto's gaze swept across the crowd until it landed... on himself.
Of all the participants gathered, he was the only one with long, silvery-white hair that curled softly at the ends, tinged faintly with blue.
Wait...
Me?
I'm the one who's gonna die?
??
This can't be right! I'm the protagonist, aren't I?!
The text disappeared from view, as though it had been nothing but a figment of Haruto's imagination.
Before he could dwell on it further, the Ubuyashiki family announced the start of the Final Selection. The candidates surged forward, entering Mount Fujikasane.
Backing out now over what might've been an illusion?
Haruto couldn't afford to be that cowardly. He'd be a laughingstock for life—and worse, it would disgrace the smiths of Swordsmith Village who had worked tirelessly on his blade.
Grinding his teeth, he noticed the fox-masked boys had vanished into the crowd.
No choice. He'd have to take it step by step.
Wisteria blossoms blanketed the outer edges of the mountain, their beauty deceptive. These flowers weren't grown for their looks but for their ability to repel demons.
Captured demons were released into the mountain's wisteria-free interior, where they roamed freely, serving as the ultimate test for novice Demon Slayers.
Haruto tightened his grip on his Nichirin blade, crafted for him by Gotokawa.
Though not yet an official member of the Demon Slayer Corps, Haruto's master had sacrificed part of his own resources to forge this blade for him.
Holding it now steadied Haruto's nerves.
But the oppressive atmosphere of the forest weighed on him.
How many demons were here?
It didn't matter. The demons in this mountain shouldn't be too strong—or so the Ubuyashiki family had assured them.
Recalling his training, Haruto began searching the forest for shelter. He'd need it to survive the seven-day ordeal. Food, safety—both were crucial.
"Ahhhh!"
A scream pierced the air, distant but chilling.
Someone had already encountered a demon.
Should he check it out?
What if...
Haruto shook his head.
"Wasn't I the one who just got a death flag in the comments? Why am I worrying about someone else?"
His wooden sandals crunched over dry leaves. He closed his eyes, his awareness spreading outward.
The faint rustling of branches.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps. Malicious whispers.
A demon.
Haruto's eyes snapped open as he drew his blade, licking his dry lips.
The wind screamed past his ears as he swung instinctively. His blade cut through the air—only to miss.
Vanished?
A cold sweat prickled at the back of his neck.
A grotesque figure lumbered into view: a demon, dark green, its body swollen with muscle and sprouting countless arms. It moved like a monstrous toad, each limb pounding the ground with sickening weight.
Its tiny, menacing eyes locked onto Haruto's.
"H-huh?"
Haruto's hands trembled as he gripped his blade.
This was his first time seeing a demon.
No amount of training could have prepared him for the real thing.
Especially not one so...
So grotesque.
Whoever came up with stories about beautiful lady ghosts seducing hapless scholars was clearly lying.
Haruto swallowed hard, fighting the nausea rising in his throat.
The demon's guttural voice rumbled.
"Another year of Final Selection... Another batch of prey..."
It didn't seem to notice Haruto's terror, lost in its own musings.
"I've been imprisoned here for nearly 40 years..."
Haruto's blue-grey eyes widened.
Forty years?!
This wasn't supposed to happen. The Ubuyashiki family had said the demons here were weaklings, ones who'd only eaten a handful of humans!
The demon's grotesque face twisted as it continued.
"No sign of those fox-mask brats yet... Guess you'll be the first one in my belly this year."