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Infinite City
The room was soaked in blood. Kneeling in the middle of it all was a breathtaking woman with empty eyes. Her skin was pale and clean, but her hands were bright red ā the blood stood out against her skin.
A figure suddenly stepped forward, and a gentle, weary voice broke the silence.
"Tamayo, you still can't manage it?"
Tamayo lifted her head and looked at me. Even in this mess, her face stayed graceful. There was a hurt catch in her voice.
"Masterā¦ Muzan, am I useless?"
Who would've guessed that Tamayo ā the most special person in the Demon Slayer stories ā couldn't even hang a single blood bag right, and had already broken hundreds of them?
It should be simple: hang the bag on the hook and you're done. But looking down at the shattered bags spread across the floor, I couldn't bring myself to scold her. After all, I'd asked her to help. So I reached out and patted her head to comfort her.
"It's fine. Just be more careful next time. Go wash up."
Tamayo gathered what was left of the supplies and left with a quiet bow.
I stared at the blood on the floor and sighed. What a waste.
"The quality is still weak. We need better supplies. They're not even two meters high; when they fell, not one stayed whole. What a pity..."
I muttered to myself, then raised my hand. The blood on the floor twitched like it had a life of its own. At my gesture it thickened, clotted, and formed into a compact lump.
"Let's go."
I flicked my fingers and the mass flew toward the open window, tearing down any wall in its path as if it had no weight at all.
By now you probably know the truth.
I used to be Mori Yuta, a 21st-century kid from a decent family. I had nine years of school and I trusted science. One night, while I was recovering from an injury and staring at the latest Demon Slayer episodes, I dozed off with the manga beside me. A loud bang made me fall out of bed. I hit my head. When I woke up, I wasn't Mori Yuta anymore ā I'd become Muzan Kibutsuji.
Is this scientific? No idea. Is it crazy? Absolutely.
Time travel itself might've been bearable ā but being trapped in the body of the story's villain, and in a body that could pass as a woman? That was a surprise. Still, nobody I knew could help me. And there were four hundred years left before Muzan's final end. For a human who might not even live a hundred years, that was more time than I'd ever get.
But I couldn't do what the original Muzan did. I'd been a proper kid with nine years of education and a medical intern's conscience ā I couldn't go around doing what Muzan did in the story. No. I refused.
Besides, there were no phones, no computers, and no convenience at all. That was the worst part.
Tamayo didn't hate me like in the original story. Why? Because I'm the Muzan she knows now. I couldn't let the beautiful woman who'd become close to me end up killing me and both of us dying together. I wouldn't allow that. I wanted to keep her ā for our future.
It turned out I'd found Tamayo when she was very young, not long after her parents had died. I can't tell you why her parents were gone ā I don't know that either. I stayed with her as she grew. When she was old enough, I brought her to Infinite City and kept her close. I didn't want her around other men.
When she fell ill with something no doctor could fix, I told her the truth: that I wasn't human, that I was something else.
She didn't react like a normal person would. She said she'd suspected I was strange long ago. Sometimes she'd seen me drinking blood bags, and it made her realize I wasn't human. She'd been scared, but she'd also been glad someone had been with her when her parents were gone.
So she watched me quietly for a month. She saw I bought blood from the hospital and that most of my other food came from regular shops ā I didn't hunt people. That eased her mind, and she agreed to become like me. I was surprised at how easy it went. Honestly, thinking back, I felt a little proud of my own cleverness.
Once Tamayo joined me, things between us changed. She stopped acting distant. She began searching for ways to cure herself and me, collecting clues and running after myths like the blue spider lily when she could. I do know the original story's blue spider lily was probably a myth ā something Muzan chased his whole life for nothing. Still, we looked.
Because of this body, I couldn't go out in the day. At night I walked the streets, but this era was not modern ā no night markets, no black markets, no internet cafes. Nothing familiar. It was the Warring States period, and it was messy. Still, the night had its own life.
One night I was wandering as usual when someone stepped out of the bamboo.
He wore a loose white robe under a black-and-purple haori. His long black hair was tied back. There were red markings on his forehead, chin, and neck. His eyes were sharp and bright, but his face was almost empty of expression.
"He's Kokushibo," I thought.
"Breath of the Moon ā First Form: Dark..." he murmured as he raised his sword. He was about to cut my throat.
I stepped back to dodge, caught his wrist as his blade swung by, and tilted my head like I was curious.
"Hey, swordsman with that gloomy look ā do you want to beat your older brother?"
He froze. The sword paused. Then a flash of jealousy passed through his eyes. He looked at me slowly.
"You... have a way?"
I smiled. "Become a demon. Demons live forever. You won't die after twenty-five when the marks open. You'll have endless strength and rapid healing. You could use all your sword skills without tiring."
"And I'd like to see what a breathing swordsman with marks would be like as a demon."
He hesitated. His whole life was built to hunt demons. Still, something inside him changed. He slowly sheathed his blade.
I took him back to Infinite City and to my room. I fed him blood. Maybe I overdid it ā the transformation took four or five days. For days I watched his cells break down and rebuild. He screamed and writhed in pain. I could do nothing but stay at his side.
When it was over, I didn't expect his will to be so strong. He resisted the urge to feed on humans. He kneeled before me like a servant, eyes steady.
"Well then," I chuckled. "You changed into a six-eyed demon all by yourself. I'll call you 'Black Death.'"
(My operation worked perfectly. I picked up a bodyguard with hardly any effort.)
I gave him a few blood bags to calm his hunger. When night fell I saw him out politely.
"It was an honor, my friend. Try out your new body. If you ever have time, help me look for the blue spider lily."
I closed the door. A light breeze slid under it. Outside, the new demon ā Kokushibo's new follower ā stood frozen. He held a half-empty blood bag that fluttered in the wind.
Four days. Four long days of seeing a human scream and change. Even as Muzan, I couldn't stand the sight.
Muzan's body itself was strange. Though it had masculine features, it was pale and smooth like carved jade. I touched the skin and understood why people in the stories were fascinated. I found myself staring until a nosebleed surprised me.
"I'm a little obsessed," I admitted, wiping the blood away.
After I accepted the memories of the original Muzan, I learned what he'd done and how he'd controlled himself. A normal person would beā¦ not like that. I'd been me for a lifetime, and I could resist, but my new body came with strange urges I didn't expect.
I shifted form back to a man and, after washing up, stepped back into the night. The moon looked full and oddly red.
I walked through a thick grove of bamboo, a blood bag in my left hand and a roasted chicken in my right. I ate as I walked, though ghosts don't enjoy normal food ā it tastes weak to us. Still, habits die hard.
Then, I heard something odd in the bamboo. I froze and looked toward the noise, careful not to be seen.
The figure I saw was a man with a Nichirin blade. He wore a loose, khaki tunic with a feathered haori ā like the uniform of the Demon Slayer Corps ā except the feathers were red. His hair was black with a slight red tint and a small red mark sat on the corner of his forehead. His scarlet eyes held calm, impassive.
The blood bag and chicken slipped from my hands. I swallowed hard.
"This can't be a coincidence." I whispered. "If the manga's timeline is right, he shouldn't be here for another month or two."
"I just met Kokushiboā¦ and now I'm seeing Yoriichi?" I couldn't believe it. My heart raced ā the world, the timelines, everything felt like it was folding on itself.
If I run nowā¦ is it already too late?
Seeing the man's serious face, I felt an urge to laugh for no reason. I tried to hold it back, covering my mouth, but a little sound still slipped out.
"Pfftā¦"
"Sorry," I smirked. "I'm not interested in swordsmen who use Breathing right now."
I tried to act calm, but my body was tense. I've been Muzan for almost a hundred years now, yet I still don't know how to split and escape like in the original story. If he swung his blade at me, I had no backup plan.
The man didn't react at all. He silently unsheathed his Nichirin Blade. Under the moonlight, the black steel gave off a faint, ominous glow.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. So coldā¦ not even a twitch of emotion.
I extended my right hand. My nails lengthened, piercing my palm.
"Blood Demon Art: Black Blood Thorns!"
The blood dripping from my palm exploded outward, weaving into thorny vines that shot straight for his chest.
"Sun Breathingā¦ Tenth Form!"
His blade shifted in an instant. The black steel turned crimson, glowing like fire. Before I could even register it, my vision spun. My neck was severed. My limbs were torn apart. Deep gashes split across my chest, flames burning through my insides. The pain was unbearableāorgans scorched, wounds that refused to close.
"Ughā¦"
I collapsed, barely holding my head in place with what was left of my arm. My body wasn't regenerating.
The Red Bladeā¦!
Before I could recover, a fiery Nichirin tip pressed against my forehead. For the first time, he spokeāhis voice deep and steady.
"Where is the joy in this? What's so funny?"
"What do you think life is worth?"
I froze. His words hit harder than his sword.
Brother, I was just laughing at your serious face back then! I couldn't help itā¦
But I didn't answer.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"I amā¦ Kibutsuji Muzan."
My cells struggled to regenerate, but his Sun Breathing had left its mark. The flames from his sword clung to my flesh, burning endlessly.
He kept pressing, like a priest reciting a mantra:
"What is life to you?"
I stared at him through the pain. The urge to laugh was gone. Disgust, irritation, rage boiled over. I roared at him:
"People in this worldā¦ some are born with brilliance! Others crawl through the dirt, desperate to survive like fools! And me? I only want one thingā to live!"
He froze at my words. Honestly, so did I. I didn't even know why I said that.
"ā¦What do you mean by that?" he asked, voice low. "And what did you mean when you mocked Breathing Swordsmen?"
His sharp eyes faltered for a moment, confusion slipping through. I chuckled despite myself.
"Judging by your face, by your auraā¦ you must be related to him. KokushibÅ. Your brother, right?"
His body stiffened.
"And I am the Demon King. My blood runs in his veins. If I die, he dies too. Can you kill me knowing your brother will perish with me?"
Yoriichi's crimson eyes trembled. His blade hovered at my throat, torn between duty and family.
"Whatā¦ did you do to him?"
"I granted his wish. I made him a demon."
The sword pressed harder to my neck. His voice shook with fury.
"Why?"
"Because he wanted it."
Disbelief clouded his expression. He fell into silence, the weight of brotherhood crushing him.
Meanwhile, my body was finally mending. The flames had faded, my organs knitting back together.
Just as I thoughtā¦ even Yoriichi is still shackled by his love for his brother.
Still, the tip of his blade hovered inches from my skull. One wrong move and I was ash.
I can't moveā¦ but my mouth can.
I lunged forward, fangs snapping open. He didn't noticeātoo deep in thought.
Clang!
Steel met fang. Sparks flew. I shoved his blade aside and leapt back.
"Blood Demon Art: Blood Shadow Clone!"
Ten copies of me burst into existence, scattering in every direction.
But it was useless. Before I'd even gotten far, every clone was cut down. Red flames filled the night sky.
I spun around. He was thereāYoriichi Tsugikuniāboth hands gripping his blazing Nichirin, anger burning in his eyes.
Oh, crap. He's actually trying to kill me.
As he prepared to dash forward, a twisted idea struck me.
I changed my form instantlyāskin soft, voice sweet, body shifting into that of a woman. I tore my clothes just enough to expose skin and cried out toward the nearby houses in a trembling voice:
"Help! Someone is trying to assault me!"