Two Hundred Years Later.
Muzan remained still, seated on the jagged stone throne deep within the mountain fortress. Despite the passage of two centuries, the fortress's structure stood unscathed, maintained by Muzan himself over the years. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the soft hum of his controlled breathing. His eyes were closed in meditation, but his mind was in turmoil.
In Muzan's thoughts:
'Tch… This unbearable thirst… My lust for blood and flesh never fades. Even after two centuries… it still claws at my sanity.'
Suddenly, his sharp senses picked up the faint sound of footsteps. A presence-soft, fragile, human.
His crimson eyes snapped open.
Muzan stood, his voice cold and commanding, echoing through the empty stone hall.
"Why are you here?"
A female voice responded, hesitant and small.
"I… I didn't know someone lived here. I was just curious about what lies inside this fortress…"
He narrowed his eyes.
"Lies."
His steps were slow but purposeful as he moved toward the voice. From the shadows emerged a woman, clothed in a worn robe, trembling under his gaze. Her lips quivered, and her hands clutched the fabric of her robe tightly.
In Muzan's thoughts:
'That face… Why does she look… familiar?'
He stopped just a few steps from her, his gaze piercing.
"I can hear your heartbeat. It spiked the moment you said you 'just wanted to know what's inside'. Now tell me the truth."
The woman lowered her head, stammering.
"I-I'm sorry! The truth is… the village chief ordered me to come here… as a sacrifice. For God."
Muzan's expression remained unreadable.
"Sacrifice? What nonsense is that? Where are you from?"
"F-from the village at the foot of this mountain," she whispered.
"Every one hundred years… a girl is sent here as an offering to the mountain god. I… I'm the second sacrifice."
Muzan's brow furrowed.
"Sacrifice? I've never asked for one. I'm not a god."
The woman blinked, confused.
"Then why does our village have this tradition? Why do they say a god lives atop this mountain?"
Muzan crossed his arms.
"Tell me, when did your village begin?"
The woman nodded slowly, then recited from memory.
"According to our records… Two hundred years ago, a group of a hundred people, men and women, climbed the mountain seeking shelter. But when they reached the summit, they heard a voice."
Her eyes flickered with fear.
"The voice said, 'Get out of here. If not, I will eat you all.' Terrified, they ran back down and founded a village. Since then, they've sent a girl every century to appease the so-called 'god' who threatened them."
Muzan's lips curled into a smirk.
"Hah… So that's what happened. They misunderstood my warning all those years ago."
The woman stared at him, startled by his expression.
"You… are you our god?"
Muzan chuckled darkly.
"I might be the one they fear… but I am no god."
"Then what are you?"
He flashed his sharp fangs.
"A human-eating monster. Raaawr."
He suddenly leaned in, showing his fangs and cold glare, giving a playful jumpscare. The woman screamed and stumbled backward, hugging a nearby rock.
"M-MOTHER!!!" she cried in fear.
Muzan burst into laughter, the sound echoing throughout the fortress.
"Ahahaha! It's been five hundred years since I laughed like this…"
In his thoughts:
'The last time I laughed this freely was… back in my home world.'
The woman peeked from behind the rock, still pale.
"Y-you're a monster…? A demon?"
Muzan tilted his head.
"Yes. A demon."
Her lips parted as if to say more, but her body gave out, and she collapsed.
He caught her before she hit the ground and carried her gently to a flat rock, letting her rest.
---
A few hours later.
"You're awake?" Muzan asked, seated beside her.
She nodded slowly.
"Y-yeah…"
"I hunted a wild boar. Cook it and eat. But don't cook everything, I won't be eating."
"O-okay… but why not?"
"Did you forget? I'm a human-eating monster. I'll let my victim fatten up before I feast."
"Eek!"
He snorted.
"Relax. I'm joking."
She began preparing the boar meat. Occasionally, she asked for ingredients, and Muzan, with incredible speed, retrieved them almost instantly.
Eventually, the aroma of cooked meat filled the air.
Muzan watched her eat, his eyes distant.
"Is it good?"
She shrugged.
"It's good… I guess?"
"Want me to eat too?"
"Aren't you hungry?"
"Not for this. Only raw meat or blood satisfies my kind. Cooked food is… flavorless."
She paused and stared at him.
"Feeling bad for me?"
She hesitated.
"Have you… ever eaten human flesh?"
Muzan's expression darkened, a shadow passing over his eyes.
In his thoughts:
'That time… when I first turned into a demon… I was so afraid of hurting others that… I ate my own hands.'
The woman watched his face twist in revulsion, then suddenly burst into laughter.
"Pfft! To think Demon-san would look disgusted at the thought of eating human flesh!"
Muzan sighed.
"Don't misunderstand. It's not the flesh I hate, it's the memory."
"Memory?"
"Never mind. Just eat."
After she finished eating, she glanced at him again.
"Hey, Demon-san. You haven't eaten a thing."
"I don't need to."
"Why not?"
"You'll only be disgusted."
"Try me."
He looked her in the eye.
"Five hundred years ago… I ate a raw pig. Alive. It tasted like shit. Since then, I've avoided raw meat altogether. It was so bad… eating my own hand tasted better."
She stared at him, shocked.
"You ate your… hand?"
"Yeah. Truth is, I've never eaten human flesh. Not even once. But I did eat a demon once, accidentally."
"Wait, what do you mean you ate yourself?"
"Exactly that. I can control my body freely, internally and externally. So I consume my own flesh and regenerate it. It's how I survive without killing anyone."
She was speechless.
"Ooh… That's… something."
Muzan just stared at her.
---
The Next Day.
As dawn's light peeked through the mountain cracks, as they woke up. Muzan and the woman's eye meet once again.
Muzan, still thinking about his sense of familiarity, he asked the woman:
"By the way… Who are you?"
She beamed as if she'd been waiting for him to ask.
"I am..."