(Third Person POV)
(Kamado Mountain)
A single look—that was all it took for the man… no, the now demonized being to look at his reflection and see that the changes made to his body were a lot more noticeable than he had imagined.
He would've been the first to admit that he was, by all means, less than average in terms of looks and stature. He mostly blamed the genetic defects he was born with. He had tried to exercise—he ran, he jogged, he biked, he lifted. He did so many various types of exercises for months but saw nothing. The dieting, the terrible, terrible dieting made him want to vomit, but seeing as there were no real improvements, he just stopped trying.
But now, looking into the reflection of the water inside the bucket, he saw what looked to be a total stranger—something straight out of an isekai. Standing up straight, he was able to do a mental measurement and found that he had shot up from 5 feet 4 inches to what looked to be around 6 foot 4, maybe even 6 foot 6.
His eyes, once a dull brown, now almost glowed with a red light, and as he took a step forward, he found himself face-planting into a tree.
"Fuck… son of a bitch…" the man muttered as he got up, but instead of feeling any pain or seeing blood, he looked at the tree and found an imprint of his face embedded in the bark.
Placing a hand on it, the palm that touched the tree then curled into a fist, and with just a slight push, the entire tree caved in—it was like pressing his hand into Play-Doh. The cracking and groaning of the tree intensified as it then fell to the ground.
The man just looked at his hand before taking a breath to process it all. Looking off into the distance, he found that he could see the individual particles of snow from seemingly multiple yards away, and as he went to adjust his glasses, he remembered—he didn't have any. It had been ingrained in him to do that over and over again just to see, but now… he didn't need them.
The man started chuckling to himself, which then turned into almost silent laughter. For a moment, he believed he had finally lost his mind, that everything that had happened was just a psychotic episode. But he still remembered the pain of that machine… he felt it tearing apart his body and soul, and to be honest, he had almost given in…
For a few moments, the man just stood there before everything around him began to slow down and grey out—like a movie being paused.
[As much as I would like for you to have a contemplative episode, I believe that I should give you some information in regards to your current circumstances…] an almost analog voice echoed across the entire mountain.
Finding that he himself couldn't move, the man simply waited…
[To give you a heads-up, your body has now become a demon, but not just any demon. No, I do not do subpar work… Unlike the demons in this world, you can exist in both the night and the day—the sun shall never harm you. And you don't need to eat humans to survive, but you will require a much more protein-rich diet. Basically, you have the stomach capacity of a Saiyan from Dragon Ball Z. I have given you more, but you shall discover these things in time. I will let you know now that I am currently monitoring your body's vitals and DNA, and to say that I have outdone myself is truly an understatement.]
The man just stood there, wondering if godhood made people monologue… although, to be honest, he would probably do the same thing. Can you blame him? He liked to hear the sound of his own voice.
[This is only the beginning, as now I am unlocking your Blood Demon Art, and I believe that it shall prove to be quite indicative of your nature, so to speak.]
In that moment, the man felt something click within his mind. And to say that the irony was not lost on him was like saying people die when they are killed.
Throughout his whole life, the man had lived on scraps, taking what he needed to survive and living off bite-sized morsels. A leech. A parasite. Feeding off each paycheck. To say the irony was not lost on him was, at this point, irrelevant.
Finding that he could now move, the man took one of his nails—now much longer than he was used to—and slowly made a cut along the palm of his hand. As the blood flowed down his left hand, he found that he could feel the blood… every single individual cell. And with a small amount of will, the blood was forced back into his body. However, there was another change.
The blood was no longer red. Instead, it held a more vibrant purple. From a distance, it wouldn't look too different from normal blood, but fundamentally, it was different.
Cutting himself once more, he let the blood drip onto the ground, and as soon as it hit the snow, it disappeared—but not before leaving a sizzling hole where it had landed.
[Blood absorption and poison. Fairly simple, I might say, but the potential is limitless. But once again, I shall leave the fundamentals for you to discover—it wouldn't be fun if I gave you all the answers. We shall meet again in fourteen years. Your body is currently about to reach its physical maturity, but if I were to give you a numerical age, you would be eighteen. Once you reach your mid-twenties, you shall stop aging altogether. Do with this knowledge as you will. However, be wary of the local Demon King.]
With that, the world returned to normal. Finding himself amongst the almost blinding snow, the man couldn't tell if he was excited or annoyed. This new ability would be a constant reminder of what he once was, but now, he had to take things one step at a time.
Turning towards the nearby house, he found the doors and windows bolted shut—likely due to the blizzard currently raging outside. Based on the amount of light, it was currently around noon. As he debated with himself for a few moments, the man then walked over to the front door and gave it a few knocks.
(Kie Kamado POV)
As I held the children close, I wondered if Tanjiro would be able to find his way back, especially in the snow. For a moment, I feared him getting lost in the woods, but then I reminded myself that the villagers would give him shelter should he not be able to return.
However, the bad feeling that never seemed to go away was building—like an ominous cloud creeping closer from the distance. Looking over at the small picture of my late husband, I wondered what he would do in this situation.
Nezuko was wrapped up in her blankets along with Rokuta. The slight shivering I saw from them made me regret not buying more blankets from the local merchants.
However, before I could begin to prepare a late lunch, I heard knocks at the door… which was utterly baffling. Who would walk all the way up here in the middle of a blizzard? Making sure not to disturb the children's nap, I walked over to the door, stepping as lightly as possible.
The slight creaks and groans from the floor reminded me that I might need to have them replaced eventually. As I slid the door open, I found myself staring at the open robes of a man—specifically, his midsection.
Looking upward, I saw what looked to be the closest thing to a giant I had ever seen. Vibrant red hair, barely tied into a ponytail by a rope that was seemingly holding on for dear life. His eyes glowed a calm yet striking red.
My gaze then, embarrassingly, drifted back down to his bare chest, as the white kimono barely concealed any of the man's physical features. However, to say that was the most noticeable part about him was almost a lie as I heard him speak.
"I would say greetings to a fellow human being, but my eyes are up here, ma'am."
His voice was deep—like the sound of an ancient tree bending in the wind—but it wasn't overwhelming. It carried warmth, something steady and assured, like a gentle embrace rather than a forceful presence.
To say I was embarrassed was an understatement. My face burned as I quickly regained my composure.
"Wel… Welcome! May I ask your name, good sir?"
The man slightly smiled, and somehow, that simple action made the tension in the air lessen.
"Yes, it seems I'm being quite rude. My name is Sasori—just Sasori… May I know the name of the blushing woman in front of me?"
The last comment was completely unnecessary, and I felt my face heat up again. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to ignore it.
"Kamado Kie, or just Kie. May I ask why you're out here in the snow, Sasori?"
The man glanced away for a brief moment, almost embarrassed, which I found oddly amusing for someone of his stature.
"Well… that's quite the story, but to keep it short, I may have gotten myself a bit lost. You see, I was searching for a man named Tanjuro. I wished to study the Dance of the Sun God and heard that he was one of the few people who had learned it."
That was a surprise. Not many knew that my husband had practiced the Dance of the Sun God, and even fewer sought him out for it.
"May I ask why you're so interested in learning it? While it is quite wonderful to behold, it would be a stain on his legacy if the one seeking to learn it were doing so for less than honorable reasons."
A small part of me was wary—what if this stranger had ill intentions? But despite his sheer size and presence, Sasori remained standing outside, making no move to enter uninvited. That alone put me at ease.
"I have heard the tales of the dance, and to be honest, the reason I wish to learn it is rather hard to explain." He paused for a moment, glancing at the snow piling on his shoulders before sighing. "May I come in? As much as I like getting snow on top of my head, I'd rather not become a living snowman."
The image of this giant man covered in snow was amusing, but I kept my expression neutral.
"Of course, come in. I'll get the fire going."
Leading him inside, I noticed that he had to duck his head under the doorway. I made a mental note that if we ever had more guests like him, perhaps renovating the home would be necessary.
"Cozy place you have here," Sasori said, his tone softer now. "I can tell it was made with a lot of care."
His words brought a smile to my face.
"Thank you, Sasori. My husband may have passed, but his work will never be forgotten."
At that, Sasori slightly lowered his head.
"My condolences… I was unaware that your husband had passed."
I exhaled softly, my heart clenching at the reminder, but I pushed through the sadness.
"He lived as much of a life as he could, and he gave me such a wonderful family. As much as I wish he could be here, it would be wrong of me to wish for him to stay. Your condolences, however, bring me comfort."
As I started a small fire in the hearth and prepared to brew tea, Sasori looked around the modest home. The small cushions didn't seem like they would fit him properly, so instead of trying to force himself onto one, he simply sat on the floor. He took it in stride, not complaining in the slightest.
One thing I couldn't help but notice, however, was the weapon at his side—a katana. It was well-made, almost pristine, yet it looked like it had seen use.
"Is that your sword, Sasori?"
He glanced at his right side, where the katana rested, and nodded. There was no hesitation in his response.
"Yes. It was made for me quite recently, actually. To be honest, I was so excited to begin my journey after receiving it that I may or may not have forgotten to ask for the name of the person who crafted it."
I gave him a look of mild disapproval. "Sasori, you shouldn't take advantage of people like that. I hope you at least thanked the man."
Instead of answering, he turned his head away slightly, which was as much of an answer as I needed. His reaction almost made me laugh—he reminded me of a child who had been caught doing something wrong.
"Don't worry, I paid him… I just never learned his name." He chuckled, clearly not regretting it in the slightest. "But I believe we're getting sidetracked. I promised you a story, did I not?"
As I placed the ingredients for the tea into the pot and set it near the fire, I took my seat across from him.
"This story begins many years ago… with a man named Muzan Kibutsuji and his fight against his own mortality."
As Sasori spoke, my eyes widened.
I had always known there were things in this world that lurked beyond our understanding—things my husband had seen but never wished to burden me with.
But now, that world was no longer some distant horror.
It was here.
And it was closer than I had ever imagined.
(Author's Note)
(Alright boys and girls, another chapter down! If any of you are confused about Sasori's Blood Demon Art, it's rather simple. He has full control over his blood—both inside and outside his body. Over time, he'll be able to manipulate it to the point where he can create constructs or assimilate biological information into his new body. The second aspect is even simpler: his blood is highly poisonous. What makes it even more dangerous is that he can incorporate additional poisons into his system, either by injecting them or being exposed to them. Do with this knowledge as you will!)