"Young lord, are you all right?"
The soft voice pulled the skeletal man back to reality. A simple black robe hung loose on his frame. His eyes held a yellowish tinge, and his long black hair was matted with sweat.
He turned his head sluggishly toward an old man, his voice barely a whisper.
"I'm fine. You needn't worry about me dying in my sleep, Genzo. I'd almost welcome it."
Even these few words left him breathless. The old man's expression betrayed his anguish. At his age, he should have been home playing with grandchildren. Instead, he had dedicated his entire life to service and now stood alone.
Gazing at the frail figure on the bed, the old man's heart clenched. After his previous lord's death, he had sworn to serve the next heir. Yet fate had brought them to this dilapidated hut in some unknown village.
He grasped the frail man's hands.
"Young lord, when your father died, he entrusted you to my care. I may be of humble status, but to me, you're like my own grandson. Please—don't hurt this old man more than he's already hurting."
A faint smile touched the frail man's face. Muzan was the last heir to the Kibutsuji clan, who should have inherited the title of Daimyo of the Land of Iron. But fate had other plans.
The man destined to become Daimyo had long since become a living corpse. His body was perpetually cold and numb, his heart stopping multiple times each day. At only twenty, Muzan was little more than a breathing cadaver with days left to live.
His father, the previous Daimyo, had turned the world upside down searching for a cure. But no cure existed for this terminal disease. Even before birth, Muzan's heart had stopped repeatedly.
As the Daimyo's son, he should have lived in luxury, but his father's death left him vulnerable. By tradition, he should have been the next Daimyo—but who would accept a ruler destined to die at twenty?
Even then, he could have lived comfortably. His father had owned numerous properties and businesses throughout the Land of Iron and beyond. But greed can turn family into enemies.
The architect of his misery was his own uncle, Shinji Kibutsuji—a man his father had trusted blindly. After his father's death, Shinji turned his back on Muzan.
Since the next Daimyo could only be chosen from the family, everyone turned to Uncle Shinji. Though initially reluctant, he had no choice but to accept the role. There was no other heir, and Muzan was dying.
As soon as he seized power, Shinji's true nature emerged. He gradually isolated Muzan under the guise of providing treatment.
Months passed. Servants departed one by one. His uncle visited only occasionally, feigning pity. Eventually, no more doctors came. After a year, when everyone had forgotten him, he was banished to this remote village. The only person who remained was Genzo.
Genzo had been the Daimyo's personal servant since Muzan's grandfather's reign. Even now, at eighty, he remained devoted.
Muzan exhaled softly.
"Genzo, have you eaten?"
Genzo shook his head.
"Not yet, young lord."
Muzan pushed his frail body upright. Genzo immediately helped him sit. Muzan leaned against the bed, a gentle smile crossing his face.
"Shall we have dinner? Let's eat together. I'm a bit hungry."
Genzo nodded immediately.
"Yes, young lord. I'll bring the food at once."
Muzan watched the old man's retreating back—frail and small, yet to Muzan, a shield protecting him. If there was one person Muzan would always be grateful to, it was Genzo.
Soon, Genzo returned with chicken soup. It was impossible for Muzan to chew solid food, so this broth was one of the few things he could consume.
Genzo served the food, then they began their meal. Mostly, Genzo fed Muzan, who lacked even the strength to eat on his own.
Warmth filled Muzan from within. After finishing, Genzo took the dishes away to clean. Muzan sat on his bed, a simple thought surfacing.
"Because of moments like this, I won't regret it even if I die. But I still want to savor them a little longer."
Yet in a sea of sorrow, happiness is always fleeting. Muzan drifted to sleep, his frail body surrendering to unconsciousness the moment he closed his eyes, conserving every ounce of energy.
---
Screams tore through the quiet night. Wails echoed inside Muzan's small room.
His ears twitched, his brow furrowed. Within moments, Muzan jolted awake. Sharp screams reverberated outside.
Pale moonlight illuminated his room. He barely managed to sit up and look outside. People were running and screaming. The village was small, with fewer than a hundred residents. Most houses were clustered together. Only their hut stood somewhat apart.
Muzan could clearly see the horror unfolding. He muttered quietly.
"What is happening?"
Bang!
His door burst open. Genzo rushed in, panicked.
"Young lord! The village has been attacked! We must leave, quickly!"
Muzan could see silhouettes fleeing. But what they were running from remained obscured. Escape was impossible for him. He smiled self-mockingly.
"Genzo, you should leave without me. You know I can't run in this condition."
Genzo opened and closed his mouth, but no words emerged. He knew Muzan couldn't flee.
Muzan looked outside. The screams were dying down. He urged Genzo.
"Leave this place quickly. I'm destined to die anyway. Better if it's sooner."
But Genzo shook his head with a bitter smile.
"You know I can't do that either, young lord."
Muzan tried to stand, frustrated. He attempted to shout, but his voice came out weak.
"What are you doing?! Leave now! I order you!"
But Genzo remained still. The screams outside had stopped. Muzan peered through the window, but an eerie silence had fallen.
Then mad laughter echoed from behind them.
"Kekekeke... How touching~"
Muzan and Genzo whirled around, eyes widening. Muzan couldn't help his surprise.
"Who is he?! How did he suddenly appear behind us?! Is he a shinobi?!"
But he didn't dare voice his thoughts. The scent of blood—faint and metallic—wafted into his nostrils. No matter how much he'd contemplated death, when death truly arrived, even the most courageous forgot to breathe.
The intruder had medium-length grey hair slicked back and distinctive purple eyes. He wore a dark robe and carried a scythe. He seemed like death personified.
The intruder's body trembled with excitement. He whispered as he leaned toward Genzo.
"Hehe... Kekekeke... It brings me such joy to see faces like yours. But... you both look immensely disappointing. A cripple and an old man?"
Then he snapped toward Muzan, madness blazing in his eyes.
"But I only need one~"
Muzan gathered his courage. "W-what do you mean?"
The intruder tossed something to Muzan.
It was a head.
A woman's head, cleanly severed. Her eyes still wide open, as if she didn't know she'd died. The moonlight illuminated it grotesquely.
Muzan instinctively threw it away, his heart—which usually stopped beating—now pounding violently, his eyes wide with terror.
The intruder giggled madly.
"Kekekeke... Now, you two decide who wants to sacrifice themselves~ Since I only need one, I'll let the other go."
Before Muzan could answer, Genzo spoke, voice anxious.
"I—kill me!"
Muzan's eyes widened. He shouted.
"What are you saying, Genzo?! If anyone should die, it should be me!"
He turned to the intruder. Courage surged in his heart.
"I don't know who you are or why you're doing this, but if you must kill one of us, kill me!"
The intruder dragged his scythe across the ground.
Screeeeech
"What's this~? You're both asking me to kill you. Are you that desperate for death~?"
He spoke with a mocking smile, then put a finger to his chin and hummed.
"A cripple or an old man~ A cripple or an old man~ A cripple or an old man... I guess it's the... CRIPPLE!"
Suddenly, he moved. His scythe whistled through the air toward Muzan.
Whoosh!
Muzan's eyes widened, fear plastered across his face. Then a figure appeared before him.
Squelch!
A long horizontal gash opened across Genzo's torso, nearly cutting him in two.
Thud!
Genzo's body collapsed, blood gushing from his mouth. His old, wrinkled face bore a smile.
Muzan felt all his strength leave his legs. He dropped down beside Genzo, his body trembling as tears streamed down his face. Heart-wrenching pain filled his chest. He could only ask one thing.
"Why... why did you do this? You know I'd die today or tomorrow anyway. So why?"
Genzo weakly raised his hand and wiped Muzan's tears.
"Young lord, I'm in my eighties... Living this long was thanks to your family... Sooner or later, death would have claimed me too. So this humble servant wishes to serve you one last time. I hope you won't mind if this servant departs before you—"
Genzo's words ceased. But his smile never left his face. He looked as though he'd finally found peace.
Muzan grasped Genzo's hand and pressed it to his face, sobbing. He'd never met his mother—she'd died giving birth to him. His father had always been busy.
Throughout his life, he'd felt parental love from only one person. And tonight, that person had left too.
The intruder's mocking voice pierced through his grief.
"Keke~ I'm sure Lord Jashin will grant him peace."
Then he leaned toward Muzan, licking the blood on his lips and smiling in ecstasy.
"But I lied to you, you know?"
Before Muzan could comprehend anything, he felt sharp pain in his neck and his vision slowly faded.