Myron Malcohm Beckles was just an ordinary teenager living a typical 21st-century life-until one fateful day when a car accident changed everything. Instead of darkness, he found himself waking up in a strange world: the Taisho era in Japan, a perio...
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The vibrant, bustling streets of Asakusa fell silent, an uneasy hush spreading as pedestrians and citizens froze, caught off guard by the piercing scream of agony. Myron's cries echoed, his voice raw with pain as he collapsed onto the cold cobblestone. In the center of the street, Myron lay motionless, unconscious, while Tanjiro knelt beside him, face-to-face with a nightmare made flesh: Muzan Kibutsuji, the King of Demons, the one responsible for all of Tanjiro's suffering.
"MYRON! MYRON! PLEASE, WAKE UP!" Tanjiro shouted, desperation thick in his voice. He placed a trembling hand on Myron's shoulder, voice cracking as he pleaded. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I know you can get through this. I'm here for you... Nezuko and Aiko are here for you. You have to hold on!"
But Myron remained still, his breathing shallow, oblivious to Tanjiro's desperate words. His body shivered as a dark aura pulsed around him, his eyes barely open, revealing an unnatural, blood-red glow. The warm red and brown highlights in his hair had darkened, as though something sinister had seeped into his very essence.
The woman who had been walking with Muzan earlier knelt down beside him, her face a mixture of shock and pity. She reached out to place a hand over Myron's, but immediately withdrew, horror flickering in her eyes. His nails had lengthened, sharp and claw-like, while his skin felt as cold as ice. ("His... his hand... it's getting colder by the second. And his eyes... they're not human.")
Onlookers whispered and murmured, their expressions a blend of fear, curiosity, and suspicion.
— "What's happening to him? He was just standing there, and now he's unconscious!"
— "Did you see his eyes? They look... almost demonic!"
— "His nails are like claws! Is he some kind of monster?"
— "Should we get help? He looks like he's in serious pain."
— "I knew he was strange when I saw him with that sword and those strange things around his neck."
— "He's probably causing a disturbance on purpose. Typical for an outsider to cause trouble."
Tanjiro's heart pounded, each beat echoing with dread as he noticed Myron's scent changing, shifting into something almost unrecognizable. ("Myron's scent... it's not human. It's more like... a demon's. Almost like... Kibutsuji's! And his nails, his eyes—everything is changing!")
He looked up, his gaze locking onto Muzan—the man, no, the monster—standing calmly amidst the crowd. The demon king, who had massacred Tanjiro's family , held a young girl in his arms, blending seamlessly with the people around him despite his pale skin and piercing, predatory red eyes. No one around them seemed to realize the true danger they were in.
The little girl in Muzan's arms clutched her father's clothes tightly, her eyes filled with fear and confusion. "Daddy... what's happening to him? Is he turning into a monster?" Her voice was barely a whisper tears welling up her eyes , trembling with worry as she clung to Muzan. "Daddy, why aren't you saying anything?"
