"Is that a foreigner?" A man in an alley branching off from the main street of Asakusa muttered in a slightly surprised tone while leaning against the corroded walls of an old building outlining the side of the alley.
He wore a black tuxedo with a white tie over a black dress shirt, white dress pants, and a white fedora with a black stripe across it, resting on his sleek black hair. His attire and appearance could be summed up in one phrase: the iconic "Michael Jackson style."
His gaze was drawn to the foreigner standing in the middle of the street, looking up at the sky with a confused expression. The foreigner had managed to attract the attention of most pedestrians on the main street. After all, it wasn't every day you'd see a foreigner in times like this; with the world torn apart by war, it was a rare sight to see a European on the other side of the globe.
"It seems so, Muzan-sama." A pink-haired man with blue markings scattered across his bare skin, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, addressed the previous man—now identified as "Muzan"—in an equally surprised tone. Even though the newcomer's appearance seemed to defy the laws of physics, no one noticed due to the old wooden building blocking them from view.
The newcomer also observed the foreigner's odd attire. Though curious, he didn't question the man's clothing, chalking it up to cultural differences.
But unbeknownst to him, even a European would be surprised by the man's clothes; the simple T-shirt and trousers he wore hadn't yet made their way to this era. Even if these clothes were common in the 21st century, they were out of place in this time. The only logical conclusion was a fantastical theory of time travel.
The people of Asakusa, nor the two demons observing him, would never guess this, however. The only explanation they could come up with was that he was a foreigner from a vastly different culture.
"He looks like a pig," Muzan added sarcastically, his cold tone contrasting with his expressionless face as he disregarded the man's odd clothing.
The pink-haired man felt conflicted, unsure if he should laugh at Muzan's sarcasm given his cold expression.
"I wonder if foreigners taste different." A cold smile appeared on Muzan's face as his mind wandered to darker thoughts. Though tempted , he resisted the urge, refraining from causing a commotion in the crowded street. The ordinary people might pose no threat to them, but it wasn't the hunter's way to scare prey from its territory.
"M-Muzan-sama…" the other man stammered, unintentionally interrupting Muzan's thoughts.
"What?" Though unintentional, Muzan Kibutsuji didn't take kindly to being interrupted mid-thought. After all, it was one of the things he despised most.
"Do you really want to eat that…thing, Muzan-sama?" Knowing he'd slipped up, the tattooed man quickly tried to talk his way out of the hole he'd dug. However sudden, he pointed to a valid reason, gesturing at the displeasing appearance of the fat foreigner.
The foreigner's clothes might be interesting, but his appearance was certainly not. His chin was covered with a messy black beard no more than an inch long, and dark circles framed his eyes. His round belly stretched his T-shirt to its limit, and his bulky arms and legs made him look comical, like characters from old cartoons.
After taking a closer look, Muzan himself hesitated on his decision to eat him. Still, he didn't dismiss it—sometimes the best food looked the strangest.
"GAHAHAHAHA… HAHAHAHA… HAHAHAHA!" For the second time that night, Muzan was interrupted, but this time it was by the man he'd been considering as his dinner. Despite his earlier thoughts about food, Muzan dismissed the whole idea of eating this foreigner when he began laughing like a lunatic in the middle of the bustling street.
With a frown, Muzan turned his gaze away from the foreigner and stepped back into the shadows of the alley.
"Aren't you going to eat—" The pink-haired man stopped himself with a cold sweat dripping down his neck, looking at his master's cold expression. He gulped and fell to his knees, hoping to avoid his master's wrath.
Only after Muzan's footsteps faded into the distance did he dare to stand up and follow. And so, the two demons melted into the darkness of the night without another word, unknown to the foreigner whose crazed laughter had saved him from a grim fate.
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Meanwhile, to understand the story of this peculiar foreigner, we must rewind a few minutes.
— A few minutes earlier —
"Where… am I?" The man in the middle of the bustling street of Asakusa muttered as he opened his heavy-lidded eyes. Momentarily forgetting his earlier thoughts, he marveled at the beauty of the city before him.
The sight of people moving with smiles on their faces, their cheerful chatter, and occasional laughter created a scene that could bring a smile to anyone's face. Colorful lanterns glowed softly above the street, casting an ethereal light. Vendors with unique wares lined the bustling street, and the traditional Japanese buildings added a surreal charm to the scene.
To make it even more magical, a full moon and bright, twinkling stars hung above the city, casting a soft glow that blended with the lanterns' light, illuminating the crowd below.
-Ding- [Welcome, Host, to the world of Demon Slayer!]
The monotone voice that echoed in his head snapped the man out of his trance. Slightly surprised, he focused on the voice, sensing it held answers to his current situation.
With wide eyes, he looked at the words floating in front of him, trying to process what was happening. Though he had a vague idea, a little confirmation never hurt.
"GAHAHAHAHA… HAHAHAHA… HAHAHAHA!" His laughter shattered the calm, drawing odd stares from the surrounding crowd, who wondered if he had lost his mind. But how could they blame him? Every anime fan's dream had just come true.
-Ding- [Host, please refrain from causing a scene.] Even the system, which only he could hear, seemed embarrassed by his display.
"Huh… Wait, just to clarify—this isn't a dream, right?" He asked, still bewildered by the situation he found himself in.
"AARGH!" A sudden jolt of pain coursed through his body, prompting a sharp cry. The residents' stares grew even more intense.
-Ding- [I trust that sufficiently answers your question.] The system responded without a hint of remorse for its actions.
"Yep, definitely real," the man muttered, glaring at the floating words in front of him.
"Could you repeat that first line again?" He added, seemingly choosing to overlook the system's painful demonstration. Stars sparkled in his eyes as he asked.
-Ding- [Uh… Welcome, Host, to the world of Demon Slayer!] Though confused by the sudden request, he complied without question.
"GAHAHAHAHA… HAHAHAHA… HAHAHAHA!" Once again, the man's crazed laughter echoed through the streets of Asakusa, drawing all eyes to him.
[…] Speechless, the system observed the laughing man, already regretting its choice to accompany him before the journey had even truly begun.