Shirou Emiya — Doesn't Want to Work Overtime!

"The King of the Mountain! I said I'm the King of the Mountain!"

Hashibira Inosuke stomped furiously on the ground.

"Uh, Inosuke—can I call you that? Anyway, do you know where Fujikasane Mountain is?"

Shirou still couldn't bring himself to address anyone as something as embarrassing as "King of the Mountain."

"Fujikasane Mountain? No clue. But my instincts tell me it's that way!"

Inosuke shook his boar-masked head vigorously, then confidently pointed in a certain direction.

He'd learned about the Final Selection at Fujikasane from a Demon Slayer who had accidentally wandered into his territory. Being raised by wild boars, his thinking was straightforward—he hadn't bothered asking for detailed directions, merely demanding the approximate direction before charging off, trusting entirely in his instincts.

"That way, huh?"

Shirou followed the direction Inosuke indicated, then picked up the map he had dropped during their scuffle. Unfortunately, it appeared someone had stepped on it during their fight, rendering it virtually unreadable.

I guess I'll just have to trust Inosuke.

Shirou reasoned that since they were already close to Fujikasane Mountain, anyone he encountered here would likely know the correct direction—unlike him, a complete outsider.

He only hoped Inosuke wouldn't lead him astray.

"This sword…"

Inosuke pulled Shirou's crimson Nichirin blade from the tree trunk where it had embedded itself. He studied it briefly, then swung it around carelessly.

"Red? So ugly!"

Shirou could clearly hear the disdain in Inosuke's voice.

"If you think it's ugly, you could always just give it back..."

"Give it back? This is my trophy! Even if I don't use it, it belongs to me, the King of the Mountain! Why should I return it? Hmph!"

At Shirou's suggestion, Inosuke instantly assumed a combat stance again, clearly wary of any attempt by Shirou to reclaim the sword.

"..."

"How about I trade you something else for it?"

Shirou took a bento box out of his bag.

"What's that supposed to be?"

Seeing Shirou suddenly pull a strange box out of his bag, Inosuke's face was full of suspicion, and he instantly adopted an offensive posture, ready to strike at any moment.

Shirou didn't bother explaining anything to this wild young man who clearly lived completely apart from society. He cautiously opened the lid of the bento box in his hands.

"Whoa, smells good!"

A tempting aroma rose from the box, drifting through the air, and Inosuke's stomach responded by growling loudly.

"I'm starving!"

He rubbed his belly, then casually tossed Shirou's crimson Nichirin blade toward him.

"!"

Startled by Inosuke's sudden move, Shirou immediately released the bento and jumped to his feet, attempting to catch the sword flying at him.

However, Inosuke moved even faster—appearing in front of Shirou in a flash.

"I'll take this food!"

Snatching the falling bento out of the air, Inosuke bolted away at breakneck speed. Shirou was left stunned, clutching the Nichirin blade he'd caught, watching Inosuke dash off gleefully into the distance.

...

Following the direction indicated by Inosuke, Shirou soon arrived at a mountain draped entirely in cascading violet blooms, like willow branches in spring.

Bathed in the fading glow of sunset, the sea of purple wisteria seemed ethereal. A broad path appeared clearly before him, leading straight up the mountainside.

This was undoubtedly the true entrance to Fujikasane Mountain.

Walking along the mountain path, Shirou soon reached a grand gate resembling the entrance to a shrine.

Many people had already gathered, clutching swords, waiting in an open clearing ahead.

There are so many participants…

Shirou felt genuinely surprised. Aside from Inosuke, he hadn't encountered any other sword-carrying Demon Slayer candidates on the journey here. Seeing such a sizable group was beyond his expectations.

He recalled Rengoku-san mentioning how scarce active Demon Slayer combatants were compared to support personnel. Typically, only a single slayer would be dispatched to handle common demons as a form of training, unless the demon was especially strong.

Yet here, the number of participants far exceeded Shirou's imagination.

Strange, though... I don't see Inosuke anywhere.

Shirou scanned the area but saw no sign of the distinctive boar-headed figure.

Just as Shirou was searching around for Inosuke—

"We thank you all for attending tonight's Final Selection for the Demon Slayer Corps."

Two doll-like young girls, one with white hair and the other black, wearing identical purple kimono and holding lanterns, spoke emotionlessly, their voices mechanical and devoid of feeling.

"On this Fujikasane Mountain, demons captured alive by Demon Slayers are confined."

"However, they cannot leave, as wisteria—detested by demons—blooms continuously from the base to midway up the mountain, throughout the entire year."

They spoke alternately, one after the other.

"But beyond this point, there are no more wisteria flowers."

"To pass this Final Selection, you must survive here for seven days."

Shirou unconsciously tightened his fists.

He understood clearly that such a selection process would inevitably cost many lives, yet he also knew this cruel method was highly effective.

Only those who had faced trials of blood and tears could truly confront the demons who treated human lives as disposable.

"Then, we wish you the best of luck."

The two girls bowed slightly and stepped aside, clearing the way.

Those gathered in the clearing had clearly been waiting eagerly. Without hesitation, they rushed forward, quickly entering the wisteria-free zone.

Seeing their enthusiasm, Shirou felt perhaps he'd worried too much. Anyone entering without a hint of hesitation surely possessed considerable strength.

He recalled Rengoku-san explaining that participants needed a certain mastery of Breathing Techniques and approval from their trainers to join the Final Selection. Moreover, the Demon Slayer Corps didn't force anyone into combat—it was purely voluntary. Those unwilling to fight would typically move into logistics or other support roles.

If that was the case, the confident candidates here should all have enough skill and preparation to believe they could survive.

Shirou took a deep breath, deciding to maintain a more optimistic outlook.

Perhaps most participants actually survived this trial, and it was only because external demons were exceptionally powerful that the Corps suffered high casualties.

Just as Shirou was preparing to join the crowd, he noticed a blond-haired boy, visibly trembling, cautiously stepping onto the dark, narrow mountain path.

Will he really be alright?

Shirou could plainly sense the fear radiating from the boy.

The kid's legs were shaking so badly it was impossible not to notice.

When I get inside, I'd better find him quickly.

Compared to the others charging in without second thoughts, this frightened young man was clearly the most likely to lose his life on Fujikasane Mountain.