Mist Hashira Seina Yūrei 幽霊 清名

Seina said nothing, standing in the center of a large open area in the middle of the yard as her heart raced with every glance around her. Lines and rows of Demon Slayers further honed in synchronic unity, each movement-every action-deliberate and on target. It was just days since she had arrived at Corps headquarters, yet it felt like entering another world already. The size of the place, the amount of warriors, and how intense it felt; well, that intimidated and fascinated her at the same time.

She had barely arrived when Kiyoshi, wasting little time, introduced her to Masato, the head instructor at the Corps and known for his stern disposition. His face was weathered, with an intense look in his eyes that brooked little question as to just how committed he really was. As he looked over Seina now, his gaze was sharp, weighing her with the weight of experience.

Seina Yūrei," Masato started, the voice hoarse but in command, "the path you have chosen is unbearably hard. Not many survive the training itself, let alone the battlefield. Every day, we'll test your strength, skill, and determination." The words were a challenge, one against which Seina knew she had to face off.

Stiffening herself, Seina nodded. "I'm ready.".

Masato gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, then he turned to the rows and motioned for her to follow. And so she started training.

Each day started way before the sun rose, and it was pitch-black outside. In the morning, Seina was at the training grounds along with other trainees. The session in the morning was a very exhaustive pattern of exercises: running, running over long distances, climbing, lifting of weights, and agility exercises. Primarily, every bit of her body was aching, but she continued to get through pain while resisting it.

Move it, Seina!" one of the instructors yelled as she ran up a steep hill. "Your enemies aren't going to wait for you to catch your breath!"

Her legs screamed in protest, lungs burning, yet she ran on-the faces of her family, the people of her village flashing before her eyes. It was their memories, their lives, the weight of their futures not to be that kept her going and going.

Training in the art of the sword was just as rigorous. Her instructor, Akira-a truly seasoned swordsman-taught her the basics, observing form and stance, making corrections as needed. His eyes, patient yet unyielding, followed every movement she made.

Swordsmanship isn't all about strength," Akira told her one afternoon, guiding her through a series of strikes. "You have to learn control and precision. Every move should be one of decision. You should make every strike count.

First, the heavy feel of a wooden practice sword in Seina's grasp felt unwieldy. She fumbled, but with each session, her movements grew more certain and steady, her stance more settled. She listened intently to the words Akira spoke and practiced the sequences over and over until they would go without thinking.

"Good," Akira said, following her progress. "But remember, your mind has to be as sharp as your blade. The moment you lose focus, it will cost you your life.

Seina nodded, her resolve growing with every word uttered. She still had yet to go the long and many times weary road; even so, the smallest improvements, the tiniest ounce of progress, kept bringing her closer.

Days passed, then weeks, until Seina learned of the Breathing Techniques-how Demon Slayers would train their bodies. Each was unique, each honed in on the strength and precepts each warrior took into combat with them. In Seina's case, it would be Mist Breathing-a style attuned to calmness and flexibility.

Her mentor and guide in this world, Kiyoshi, then showed her the Mist Breathing. First form: "Sea of Clouds and Haze." Quick, flowing motions were meant to obscure the presence of the user. Done properly, it allowed the Demon Slayer to move about as undetected as mist blowing through the air.

Think of the mist," Kiyoshi instructed, his body moving smoothly through the form. "It's an ethereal thing, elusive, never quite staying in one place. You must be like the mist-indefinable, always out of reach of your opponent.".

She emulated his movements, her concentration fixed on every step, every breath. The form was light and airy-one that kept Seina's feet barely touching the ground while her motions were fluid, uninterrupted. At first, she was awkward and lost the flow of movement; soon, though, she got a feel of the form. Her footsteps grew lighter; her movements were more controlled.

"Good," Kiyoshi noted with a rare hint of approval. "But remember, Mist Breathing isn't just about evasion. It's about striking at the crucial moments in time.

It was one of those sensations from Seina that lingered in her as she did practice more and more: becoming attuned to the flow of Mist Breathing and the sense of it moving along with her sense of movement and control. It was small compared to other triumphs, but the sense it gave her was belonging-to be a part of something and to have a certain role there.

Month by month, Seina started to get stronger and get better at everything, meaning her skills never ceased to improve. Eventually, she regimented her training into a pattern: body exercises, fighting with a sword, and breathing techniques. She no longer trips when running uphill nor is indecisive in a strike of the sword. Whatever she did served a purpose and was executed just accordingly. Yet again, the trials testing her never failed to grow tougher by each passing day.

The toughest examination she was put through was called "Gauntlet"-an obstacle course in its purest meaning, devised to test every aspect of a trainee's skill. The obstacle course became infamous because it showed no quarter; full of traps, high walls with narrow paths required speed, agility, and unruffled focus.

Her heart was racing in anticipation-quailing in trepidation-as Seina approached the start of the Gauntlet. The course was unlike anything she'd ever seen, and she knew all too well that one failure here might easily mean a serious injury-or worse.

These were a series of high walls, each slick with mud and water she had to climb with precision for balance. Smoothing her breathing, Seina centered herself before attempting to scale the walls. She moved as quick as her muscles could strain with each pull onto the barriers. The Mist Breathing techniques helped her conserve energy by making her light while going through obstacles.

Beyond that was a path with swinging logs and spikes. At this point, reflexes were to be put to the test as Seina dodged each swing, her steps calculated in regard to timing. She remembered Kiyoshi's advice as her breath remained still and controlled, moving with precision.

Presently, she came upon the maze of mobile platforms that would challenge her agility and balance. Each of them moved in a highly random manner, and any single wrong move resulted in falling into the bottom pit. Seina eyed the movements with calculated patience, timing precisely when to jump from one to the other. Her heart pounded, focus unbroken as her Mist Breathing guided her steps.

With one last bound, she was off the final platform onto solid ground. Weary, she turned back to the Gauntlet. She had succeeded; she had faced one of the tougher challenges out there and come out on top.

Masato watched her from the edge of the training area, his face unyielding, though his eyes gleamed bright with approval. "Well done, Seina," he said, respect now laced in his tone. "You proved that you are resilient, but let this just be the beginning, for it's just going to get tougher.

Seina nodded-her resolve now set. She knew there was still much to learn, much more strength to gain. But for the first time since she joined the Corps, she felt a sense of belonging, a sense that indeed this was the right path.

As she caught her breath and comprehended the weight of her accomplishment, a quiet resolution began to fill her. She was ready for whatever was to come next: trials, battles. She would honor the memories of those she lost and turn into the Demon Slayer she vowed to be.