Surviving modern Tokyo requires a skillset I didn't cultivate during my thousand-year reign of terror. Back then, if I didn't like someone, I snapped my fingers and their head exploded. Simple. Efficient. A solid management strategy.
Now? I have to navigate the Chuo Line during rush hour without hyperventilating.
"Excuse me, passing through," I mumbled, pressing myself against the train doors. My voice sounded pathetic. Weak. If my Upper Moon demons could see me now, they’d probably die of embarrassment before I could kill them myself.
I checked my reflection in the train window. Pale skin, dark hair, fragile frame. I looked like a K-Pop idol who hadn't eaten a carb since 2018. The "Karmic Reformatory System" that reincarnated me really nerfed my stats. No immortality, no instant regeneration, just this fragile meat-suit and a list of rules that make no sense.
Rule #1: Do Good Deeds to Accumulate Merit Points.
Rule #2: Don’t get caught by the Reincarnated Slayers.
The train screeched to a halt at the station near Kimetsu Academy. I waited for the mob of students to exit first. I don't do crowds. Crowds are just unpredictable variables with backpacks.
I stepped onto the platform, instantly engaging my [Demon Sight].
The world shifted. To anyone else, it was a sunny morning. To me, it was a grid of heat signatures and blood flow. I could see the cortisol spiking in a student who forgot his homework (prey). I could see the dopamine hitting a couple holding hands (disgusting).
And then, I saw him.
A shockwave of pure, unadulterated terror slammed into my chest.
Standing by the ticket gate was a boy with reddish hair and a scar on his forehead. He was laughing loudly, helping an old lady with her groceries because of course he was. He radiated "Main Character Energy" so bright it practically blinded me.
Tanjiro Kamado.
The guy who hounded me to the ends of the earth. The guy who literally smelled my sins.
And hanging from his ears? Those damn Hanafuda earrings.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
My PTSD kicked in like a mule. Phantom pain seared across my chest, right where Yoriichi sliced me into sashimi centuries ago. I gasped, clutching my blazer.
[System Alert: Killing Intent Detected. Penalty: Migraine Level 5.]
"Argh..." I grabbed my head as a spike of agony drilled into my temples. Stupid system. I didn't even try to kill him! I just thought about it!
I had to move. I pulled my collar up, adjusted my glasses, and tried to blend into the background. I am a NPC, I chanted internally. I am background texture. I am unworthy of screen time.
I scuttled past the ticket gate, holding my breath.
"Good morning!" a voice boomed right next to my ear.
I yelped, jumping a solid foot in the air.
It was him. Tanjiro. He was beaming at me with eyes so innocent they looked like they were drawn by Disney.
"You're the transfer student, right? Kibutsuji-kun!" He clapped a hand on my shoulder. His grip was firm. Too firm. "You look a little pale! Did you eat breakfast? My mom makes great rice balls, do you want one?"
My brain screamed: RUN. HE KNOWS. HE’S GOING TO USE SUN BREATHING ON YOU RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF THE VENDING MACHINES.
"I... I have low iron," I squeaked, pulling away from his touch like it was acid. "Please don't perceive me."
"Perceive you?" Tanjiro tilted his head, his earrings swaying. Sway. Sway. The motion made me want to vomit. He took a sniff of the air. His expression shifted from cheerful to confused. "Huh. That’s a unique scent."
My heart stopped. He could smell it. He could smell the demon inside.
"It smells like..." He frowned, sniffing again. "Expensive lotion? And... fear?"
"It's Dior," I lied through my teeth, stepping back into the shade of the station roof. "I have to go. Class. Education is paramount."
I power-walked away, my knees shaking so hard I looked like I was doing a TikTok dance.
Close. That was way too close.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.