Chapter Text
The bell jingles as your last costumer leaves. A beautiful starry sky has befallen the day, but Tokyo remains bright with lanterns and chatter.
"Getting lazy, huh? You've got time to stretch? Then you need to work harder!" A cane flies down on your head from behind, but you've learned to dodge Boss's blows over the years. "Ah!? Is this a sign of disrespect, you insufferable boy!?"
"No, Boss." You bow. "It's just closing time, and I was bending to pick up the key, you see?" Your palm opens to reveal the key you were 'bending to pick up.'
"Eh...?" Boss's bushy gray eyebrows kiss as he studies your face. "...bah. You've always been a hard one to read. Well! Then go close the door, you lazy bum!" He swats you away while you do as he bids with a polite smile all the while.
'I can't wait to go home and take off these chest bindings.' You have to stifle a groan while locking the door and flipping the open sign. You worked well over thirteen hours today and only had one break at lunchtime. Boss isn't a bad person, but he loves money more than life itself and asking him to hire a couple new hands would be like asking him to choke his newborn child.
So it's just you in this cozy bookstore. Not that you really mind. It's always just been you and Boss.
"C'mon! You saw I could read English! I even know a little of some other languages- so why won't you hire me!?"
"'Cause you're a tiny brat! Only boys can work at bookstores!"
That was from way back when you were still living in Okutama- the town you'd luckily stumbled across after being reincarnated onto a mountain in the dead of winter with no family, friends, or home to speak of. You hated begging and needed a job. The local foreign bookstore needed a new hire.
Determined, you showed up the next day with badly chopped hair and a mask ripped from your kimono to cover your lower face. Boss looked down his big, nobbily nose at you for a long moment then asked your name.
"...Shin."
"Shin? How do you spell it?"
"真."
"...don't that mean 'true'?"
"...yeah."
You got the job. Under a false name that literally means "truth." When he decided to move to Tokyo, you- with nowhere and no one else to go to- followed.
"Take these to the back, boy!" A huge thunk sounds behind you, and you can only imagine the giant box of scrolls and books he just dumped on the counter. Your face curves itself into a perfect smile, and you obey quietly.
"Be safe going home." You call while walking out the door.
"Idiot! I live above the shop. I doubt you forgot from all the times you leeched off me and made me house you!"
'I remember asking to stay and you agreeing under the condition I get no pay. I was literally twelve-years-old and barely had enough for groceries. And It was only the coldest days of winter. This money-pinching geezer- '
"Well, you might fall down the stairs. You know. Age." A pinch of passive-aggressiveness slips into your voice. However, it's too deeply covered by the monotone alto you use to mask your real voice for him to hear.
"Hmph." He grunts, and you walk out the door.
Life is starting to become comfortable.
You have a job, make just enough money for groceries every week, and own two kimonos. With a carefully composed disposition, a monotone color to your demeanor that gives the illusion of masculinity, you've been able to fit in perfectly. Slip yourself into a world that you have no prepared place in. A world you're still trying to understand.
'I wonder...' You think with no real intensity. You've always wondered, and beginning to believe you always will wonder. 'I wonder what world this is.'
A Chinese silk fabric shop makes you stop. In the front, there is row of beautiful veils. Gently, your fingertips feel your own worn veil hanging from your nose and ears. It's so old you can almost see through it now...
'I've saved up enough to buy one, but the last time I went in they kept asking why.' You frown indecisively. They're well-meaning women, but their subtle attempts to trick you into removing your veil did not go unnoticed by you. Even now, while you're stuck in thought, the two young daughters of the shop-owner giggle while pointing and sketching their fantasies about your lower face.
"Now, leave Jin-san alone." The Chinese lady scolds her daughters.
"But, Maaa!"
"He's so mysterious and intelligent, we can't help it!"
"He's probably just insecure. You shouldn't fall for such shallow things as looks." The Chinese lady shakes her head and snatches the sketch away from them. She must admit, though, while secretly glancing between her daughter's work and their muse, pondering something in the middle of the street, it's hard to imagine you have anything ugly to hide when your whole personality revolves around being composed and gentle. You also appear to have a sort of underlying...prettiness. She shakes her head again.
You don't notice your audience, but you've noticed in general you don't quite fit into Japan's typical Taisho era boy. While customs and traditions are easy to learn, imitating roughness and shutting in vulnerable emotions gets tiring.
You don't regret hiding your gender. Rationally, it makes sense in your situation. If you were a girl right now, you certainly wouldn't be working as a bookshop keeper and studying to become a scholar in medicine. No, you'd probably be a housemaid in the village, or- worst case scenario- forced into human trafficking. You're lucky, and you know it. Out of desperation, you made a choice and it's served you well. Still...
It's random times, like this, that you wonder what living without a mask would feel like.
Your clicking sandals mix with the crowd's as you make your way to a produce stand, near closing time. You don't even notice that you're briefly analyzing each person that you pass, or making mental notes on their interactions with each other and you. It's become second nature by now. Being too smart-mouthed, incompetent, dreamy, flashy, strong, weak- or much of anything- will make you stand out, and you've been trying from day one to do the very opposite.
So you watch, and you copy.
"Thank you. I know you usually close by now, so I appreciate you staying open for me." You bow to the produce seller. She nods her head in return.
"What a nice young man."
You smile gratefully and make your way back home.
Only- you never get there.
To be honest, you thought you'd been pretty lucky so far. Lucky enough to find a village when you were first reincarnated. Lucky enough to land a job with Boss. Lucky enough to know some Japanese in your old life. Lucky enough to even remember your old life- your loved ones- your home- your experiences- your anime.
'I wonder...'
That had been your first thought. You wondered and wondered and wondered until the wondering simply became a daily part of life, like breathing. Every day you awoke and laid eyes on this world, you wondered if you already knew it.
'I wonder if this world...'
It was unmistakably the Taisho era, and ghost stories ran rampant. You'd found old blood in corners and shadows on more than one occasion. Once- among the sea of brown and black hair- you'd even seen a head bobbing up and down that looked too familiar and too outlandish of a color to simply be a random stranger.
'I wonder if this world is Demon Slayer .'
You'd never seen any proof before. And that- above all else- had been the greatest luck of all.
Until now.
The sounds were strange, but among the bustle of people, you hardly noticed. They grew louder, though, as you grew closer. Each step you took slowed until you stopped. Right in front of an alleyway.
You stare ahead. Your home is the next door. It's familiar shabby exterior looks so nicely inviting, and your futon is waiting patiently for your return. The best part is the calico stray cat you've been feeding for the past couple years, staring at you with her big yellow eyes, urging you with an adorable smile to simply keep looking ahead. All you have to do is take another step, and whatever is down that alleyway will never know you existed. You will never know it existed.
Then you hear a low, smooth voice.
The picture of comfort is lost the second you turn your head toward it.
There's a man. He's dressed in a Western style suit, satin black. His hat matches his outfit, as he leans closer to the mound of flesh at his feet. It's red. Red, red, red- but not nearly as red as his eyes. They poke out of the shadow obscuring the man's porcelain face as his delicate lips move- murmuring something no one should hear. A single curly black lock dangling on his cheek is all that separates his eyes and your wide, horrified, trembling, revolted, watery-
Relieved eyes.
It must be a crime, you think, to feel what you are feeling in this moment.
There he is- Muzan Kibutsuji- in the flesh. Your proof.
Your memories are not fake or made up imaginations of a lonely, lost girl. You really were reincarnated, and you really did have a past life.
Memories of his red eyes circle your mind as memories of different eyes and people materialize. His past, his present, his future- you know it all, and for a moment, forgetting that there's a bloody corpse beneath him, you can't help but smile. Finally- here is a puzzle you've already solved. A being you don't have to analyze for once. Somebody familiar.
A wind lifts your veil for a moment, revealing your smile.
'I know you.' Is what splits your lips and curves them upward in a smile that is certainly not composed nor gentle. It's a smile that recognizes every horrific deed he's ever done and knows every horrific deed he plans to commit- yet shines anyway. Because he has given you your proof. He has become your anchor to reality.
He is the end of your luck.
'I should probably go now.' You turn quietly from years of practicing and make your way home, as if you could actually ever make it.
If your fate wasn't already sealed upon seeing the main antagonist of Demon Slayer , then the following second would make sure of it.
A little mosquito a couple seconds previous had landed on your exposed neck- a normal occurrence in the summer. After a little twitching and crawling, it plunges its tiny needle into your neck just as you take your first and last step toward home.
At the sudden prick, you shake your head, correctly stifling any sound of discomfort, though it be entirely in vain. The mosquito flew away, leaving a drop of blood on your neck at the same time a disgusting squelching sound comes from the alleyway.
The spray of blood- partly human and partly demon- extends only a couple meters on the ground, staining it red. But in the air suddenly blows a draft, carrying the mist of red just a little farther- just enough to reach the alley's exist. The race of tiny rubies quickly ends as each dips to the ground at gravity's beckoning, hardly changing the ground's color on impact, but- as your luck would have it- the lightest, smallest, most miniscule dot of blood catches the very last wheeze of air.
It floats no faster than a speck of dust.
Your wound is smaller than a needle prick.
And yet- and yet -
It lands. Right. On. You.
You freeze. Despite it being less than a drop- despite it only just touching your blood- you immediately feel the fire . All your efforts of staying quiet are immediately ruined as you drop to the ground in a loud rustle of clothes and gagging sounds. Not that you care right now. Your neck- your eyes- your chest- everything is burning . You want to claw your skin off. You want to scream. You want it to stop.
"Hahh..... hahh... " You wheeze, wishing if only you had the strength to rip your lungs out.
Haha. Hahaha. HahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
This is it. This is what you've been wanting- craving even- for as long as you've been alive. To know what world you've been reincarnated into. There are so many beautiful people, humans and demons alike. It's a dangerous bloody world, but in the darkest moments the light of good always seems all the more stunning.
You thought if you could find out what world you'd been reincarnated into you could fully appreciate it and the new life you've been given. Knowing you lived in such a fatally unforgiving place, would have made you all the more grateful for your peaceful existence, even if a portion of it would always be fake.
You didn't want to get involved.
Not this- you don't want this . Sobbing, writhing, feeling everything that made you human stripped violently away as something glowing red watches you through your tears. It hurts. It burns. It's unbearably cold.
With less than a drop of blood, your little stream of life has been dammed and turned a saturated, violent shade of red.
It hurts...it hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts-
And then it doesn't.
You gasp. Your eyes snap open. Everything is a swirling mess of colors, sounds, and smells- smells...
What is that smell ?
It's so...sweet. And strong. No bakery, restaurant, or food has ever smelled so good. A dull ache suddenly grips your stomach.
"That was quick." A deep, velvety voice hums next to your ear.
Faster than you ever thought you could move, you jump away, landing in the comforting darkness of the alleyway. Everything is still so overwhelming- especially that sticky, sweet aroma- but one thing remains in focus.
Muzan Kibutsuji.
'I have to run.' The thought overrides everything else, including the ache in your stomach.
"Oh- eh- " You mask everything with a gentle smile as natural as breathing, "I'm so sorry for intruding." You bow deeply. "I-I swear I won't say anything, so- so please I beg that you- "
One second you're bowed, the next your head is slammed into the wall as blood squirts out from everywhere.
"Lord Kibutsuji!" Even your voice has blood in it. "Have mercy- "
Tears leak from your eyes as excruciating pain throbs through your skull.
"So weak..." His indifferent voice barely reaches your ringing ears. "And yet...you know my name."
A chill runs down your spine.
"How do you know my name?"
Your mouth hangs open, gaping like a fish about to be gutted.
Yeah, genius, how do you know his name?
You of all people shouldn't know Muzan's name. You're just a nameless human who has never seen a demon, never heard of the Demon Core, and should know nothing of the Demon King. What do you say to that? You can't say were reincarnated knowing everything that will happen in the near future because you watched a Japanese anime called Demon Slayer . Not only would you sound stupid- you'd be better just dying. If even the faintest whisper of the future were to meet the ears of this monster-
You suddenly feel like vomiting.
"Hm." Is the last thing you hear before pain suddenly erupts in through every inch of your body.
It's like each of your blood vessels is about to explode from vibrating.
'What blood technique is this...?' You think somewhere in the midst of your mind as it screams for release. For death even. But it doesn't matter what you want. All that matters is what he wants.
"I- I- " your voice fights through your crushed throat and bleeding lungs, "I saw a demon once- ah- he- he killed my- my parents! But he mentioned- mentioned a name- "
"My name?" He sounds the exact opposite of you. Rich, collected, dangerous.
"Mm..."
Are you going to die? Why haven't you died? Whatever he did to first make every molecule of your body burst into agonizing pain feels as though it should of killed you. You should look like the man underneath Muzan's shiny white shoes- dead. Past that- your skull is crushed- you can feel it- your left lung has burst- you can definitely feel that.
You can also feel yourself healing.
"What a careless piece of vermin."
'Me? Or the fake demon I told you about?' Your eyes widen as you remember Muzan can read minds. 'Wait! No, no, no, no- '
His soul-sucking red eyes are boring into your barely slit-open (e/c) ones, narrowed and sharp- but they're moving- just barely- between your left and right eye. Again, and again- as if he's trying to understand you.
Maybe- maybe you're wrong. Maybe you didn't feel a speck of his blood enter you, and maybe you're really still human-
"You're my demon now." His words crush your chest more than your ruined lung ever could. "And yet you have such little blood the intricacies of your thoughts are too quiet to be heard."
You almost let yourself breathe.
"But I can still tell you're lying."
'Crap.' Is all you think before his ice cold hand grabs your shoulder and rips .
It's just pain now. You feel like a lifetime has been thrown between you and your cozy home. A quiet heaven is just around the corner. Your hand reaches pitifully toward it as your kimono- the new one you bought a couple years ago- soaks in a mixture of your blood and the dead man's carnage.
It's just pain- and that scent that sweet, sweet smell of blood.
"Why don't you eat?" His voice brushes your ear again. "You're still weak, so it would take a couple days, but all of this..." He pokes a finger into the shattered part of your skull, making you scream. "...would be gone."
You gasp as his hand forces your face into the bloody ground. With hardly more than a touch.
"How lucky you are." He says as your eyes dilate and your mouth waters. "Just the state of being a demon immediately makes you superior than a human. Even something as weak as you- " He's completely immobilized you with his pinky as if to prove his point, "-is still capable of far greater things than you could ever achieve as a mortal. So, my new creation...how does it taste?"
You've been biting your lips with such frustration as to coat your mouth with blood. It's disgusting in comparison to the mouth-watering aroma right in front of your nose but-
~
A young demon girl with black hair and orange tips stares with striking pink eyes at an arm covered in blood being offered to her. Wounds in her shoulder and stomach burn as she stares at him and drools with hunger and anger. She has every reason to attack- out of her bloodthirst and revenge. Everyone watches.
She turns her head.
She may be a demon, but she is also Nezuko Kamado. A kind girl with her brother's love for others.
She will never taste a human.
~
You turn your head.
Muzan's eyes widen by a fraction of a hair.
The insolence of asking for mercy, speaking his name without him giving it or permission, then daring to lie straight to his face all pales in comparison to what you've just done.
"I see I have wasted my time." His pupils are thinner than needles. "You will now die. "
"Thank you!" You cry- mind running faster than your new demon speed as you lunge for every crumb you ever consumed in your past life about Muzan Kibutsuji. A memory just now- about a Lower Rank demon- the one who survived Muzan's purging- flashes before your eyes. He thanked the Demon King.
After realizing you aren't dead yet, you realize he was on the right track.
"I- I've been looking for you my whole life." It's not a lie, if not the complete truth. You've been looking, since coming to life, for a character from Demon Slayer to confirm your suspicions. You just never thought it would be this character. "My old village was superstitious, so I grew up believing in demons. B-but you see," you turn your head- much farther than it should be capable of- until you can see his burning red eyes.
There's not a trace of emotion anywhere on his face as your eyes find themselves fixed on his perfect features. You can't look away. You can hardly speak. A tinge of reverence enters your voice as you whisper, "I also believed in a demon above all others. Their creator, ruler, and pinnacle. Someone so powerful he could conquer the sun."
He finally tilts his head.
Then his hand is flying at your face, and you're sure you're dead, you're sure the last thing you'll see is this monster's red eyes trying to bore themselves into your soul, you're sure you'll never get to see the kind, warm eyes of Tanjiro, or his sister's beautiful pink ones, or Zenitsu's golden ones, or-
A soft palm cups your cheek.
You dare not breathe, trembling from head to toe as his cold hand holds you for a single eternity.
"Your eyes..." He finally murmurs, sliding a thumb to the skin right under your left eye. "...are hardly changed. How disappointing." His fingers glide to your soft lips and pry them open with no resistance. As his index finger rubs your pointy canines, you feel a hot flush of shame wash over you. He's treating you like a dog at a dog show. Prodding and measuring you until he is fully dissatisfied.
He finally stands up then gestures to the corpse.
"He was a failure. Feast."
It's not an invitation. It's a command, and a test wrapped in one.
How do you pass?
Once again, your mind whirls. His red eyes watch you, and you- in turn- watch him.
The old tale of the wolf and the lamb. The wolf waits for the lamb to look away so he can bite, and the lamb waits for the wolf to look away so she can run. There's not much time left. Somebody will have heard your screaming by now and will be coming to investigate. Muzan is a meticulous, bloodthirsty person, so either he'll leave before that happens, or he'll kill the person.
You'd very much like the former of the two to happen.
You can't be the lamb. You can't run from this. So you take a gambit and pretend to be a wolf.
Slowly, your body leans over the corpse all the while Muzan stares down his sharp nose, and you stare up at him through your lashes. He watches your hand- so shaky, so weak- take a scoop of flesh and bring it to your watering mouth. Your jaw moves as you chew it- a light brightening your face as you taste the sweetness of blood. You swallow then stand and brush your dirty kimono.
"Thank you." You dip your head, but not low enough to force your eyes away.
"You will not eat more?" His black locks dangle across his face as he tilts his head.
"Being in your presence has filled me enough. But if you wish, I will feast more." You lie.
Your voice is small or maybe Muzan is used to your shrill begging. Your shivering body, fidgeting hands, and shrunken posture makes you look so... submissive. A perfect visual for a demon almost certainly at the very bottom of the hierarchy. However...
You're...looking at him. Your eyes stare straight into his- a perfect reflection of the Demon Lord filling their untouched (e/c) pools. Those eyes... they're not simply looking at him, they're attempting to absorb him into their (e/c) depths- something only he is allowed to do.
Don't you know nobody is allowed to look at him? Don't you understand the only thing worth your existence is cowering underneath him, like a worm? It's all he can do to keep from sneering at your utterly respectless actions.
A thought makes him stop.
"You say you have been searching for...me. Your entire life."
Your permanently wide (e/c) eyes hold no deception.
"There's an awful lot you must know to recognize me just from looking. Still- " He's behind you before you can think and wrapping a hand around your throat. Gently enough to crush your esophagus. "-you understand nothing ."
Taisho Era Meiji Period Secrets!
It's not the Taisho Era. MC is off by several years. This means she was born 10 years before Tanjiro.
Okutama is where the Kamados lived.
Without MC, Boss's female customers will lessen.