The seasons had turned twice since Kenji's awakening in this strange new world, and with each passing month, the truth of his situation had become increasingly clear—and terrifying. What had initially seemed like a miraculous second chance at life was revealing itself to be something far more complex and potentially monstrous.
The mysterious illness that had plagued his body from the moment of his arrival was no random affliction. Through careful questioning of the household staff and piecing together fragments of information, he had discovered the horrifying truth: he suffered from the same rare blood disorder that had once consumed Muzan Kibutsuchi in his original human form. The same disease that had driven the original Demon King to accept that fateful treatment which transformed him into the progenitor of all demonkind.
But unlike his fictional counterpart, Kenji wasn't being cured through some experimental medicine that would corrupt his humanity. Instead, the template system was slowly, methodically rewriting his very biology. The Ultimate Technique—Perfect Demon Physiology—was awakening within him, cell by cell, transforming him into something that was no longer entirely human.
Kenji sat on the edge of his futon, staring at the latest iteration of his system interface that had become as familiar as his own reflection:
**TEMPLATE SYSTEM ACTIVATED**
**Host: Kenji Nakamura**
**Template: Muzan Kibutsuchi (4%)**
**Twelve Kizuki: Locked**
**Primary Abilities: Locked**
**Special Traits: Locked**
**Ultimate Technique: Perfect Demon Physiology (Awakening)**
Four percent. The number had been climbing steadily, seemingly without any effort on his part. He didn't need to train or struggle for power—it simply accumulated naturally as his body underwent its gradual metamorphosis. At this rate, he estimated he would reach the mysterious ten percent threshold within a few more months, though what would happen then remained unclear.
The physical changes were subtle but undeniable. His pale complexion had grown even more alabaster, taking on an almost porcelain quality that seemed to glow faintly in candlelight. His crimson eyes had deepened in color, becoming more vivid and predatory with each passing week. Most disturbing of all, he had begun to notice his body temperature dropping, as if the warmth of humanity was slowly bleeding out of him.
A soft knock at his door interrupted his brooding. "My lord," came the familiar voice of Takeshi, the young servant who had become his primary caretaker. "May I enter?"
"Come in," Kenji replied, dismissing the system interface with a thought.
Takeshi slid the door open and bowed respectfully. "My lord, I have some information you requested about your family history."
Kenji straightened with interest. This was something he had been investigating for months—the identity and background of the body he now inhabited. The answers had been frustratingly elusive, but gradually, pieces of the puzzle had emerged.
"Please, tell me what you've discovered."
Takeshi consulted a small scroll he carried. "According to the records I was able to locate, your family—the Kibutsuchi clan—were distant relatives of the current daimyo of the Land of Iron. Your parents, Lord Hiroshi and Lady Mei, died in a plague that swept through the eastern provinces some seven years ago."
The servant's expression grew somber as he continued. "You yourself began showing signs of illness approximately three years ago. The symptoms were... unusual, and many feared they might be contagious. For your own protection and that of others, you were brought here to this isolated estate to recover."
Kenji nodded slowly, absorbing this information. It painted a picture of a lonely existence—orphaned young, struck by mysterious illness, and effectively exiled from society out of fear. In a way, it wasn't so different from his previous life's isolation, just more literal.
"Is there anything else?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord. There have been some interesting developments in the wider world that you might find relevant." Takeshi's tone carried a note of excitement. "Word has reached us that the legendary Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara have put aside their clans' ancient feud. Together, they are establishing a great ninja village—Konohagakure, the Village Hidden in the Leaves."
Kenji's breath caught. Konoha's founding—he was witnessing one of the most pivotal moments in ninja history. This placed him firmly in the Warring States period, decades before the main events of the Naruto series he knew so well.
"Many clans are flocking to join this new alliance," Takeshi continued. "It's said that this could herald a new era of peace for the ninja world, an end to the constant warfare that has plagued the land for generations."
Peace. The word felt almost foreign in the context of the Naruto universe Kenji remembered. He knew that this period of harmony would be tragically brief—within decades, the other hidden villages would form, the ninja wars would begin, and countless tragedies would unfold. The very foundation of Konoha contained the seeds of future conflicts.
But perhaps, if he grew strong enough, he might be able to change some of that. Maybe he could prevent some of the needless deaths that awaited characters he had come to care about through their stories. It was a distant dream, but one that gave his transformation purpose beyond mere survival.
"Thank you, Takeshi. That information is very valuable."
The servant bowed and departed, leaving Kenji alone with his thoughts and fears.
The most pressing concern wasn't the politics of the ninja world or even his mysterious illness—it was what he would become once his transformation completed. The template suggested he would gain all of Muzan's abilities, but would he also inherit the demon's weaknesses and urges?
His few attempts to test his sun sensitivity had been carefully orchestrated and deeply troubling. Even brief exposure to direct sunlight now caused his skin to burn and blister within minutes. The weakness that had defined Muzan's existence was already manifesting in him, growing stronger with each percentage point of his transformation.
But far more terrifying was the possibility of developing demonic hunger. Muzan's need to consume human flesh and blood wasn't just a dietary requirement—it was a fundamental part of his nature, an urge that overrode morality and compassion. Kenji had been a normal person in his previous life, someone who had never hurt another human being. The thought of becoming a predator that viewed other people as food filled him with revulsion.
So far, he had experienced no such cravings. His appetite remained normal, perhaps even diminished due to his ongoing illness. But he couldn't shake the fear that one morning he would wake up with an overwhelming need to tear into human flesh. What would he do then? How could he live with himself if he became a monster?
The months that followed passed in a haze of anxiety and gradual recovery. Dr. Kurogami continued his regular visits, growing increasingly pleased with his patient's progress. The physician couldn't understand the mechanism behind the improvement—by all rights, the rare blood disorder should have been progressing, not retreating. But he attributed the positive changes to the experimental treatments and careful nursing care.
Kenji's physical strength returned incrementally. Where once even standing had been a monumental effort, he could now walk the grounds of his estate without exhaustion. His appetite improved, though he found himself craving rarer cuts of meat and developing an aversion to certain foods he had once enjoyed.
The template percentage continued its steady climb: five percent, six percent, seven percent. With each increase, he felt subtle changes in his body—enhanced senses, improved reflexes, an almost supernatural awareness of his surroundings. But the abilities that made Muzan truly fearsome remained locked away, tantalizingly out of reach.
---
On a crisp morning in early spring, Dr. Kurogami arrived for what would prove to be a pivotal examination. Kenji sat patiently as the physician conducted his usual tests, noting the man's increasingly amazed expressions.
"Lord Kibutsuchi," Dr. Kurogami said finally, setting down his instruments with a look of professional satisfaction. "I believe I can confidently say that you have made a full recovery."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Kenji forced a smile onto his face. "That's wonderful news, Doctor. I cannot express how grateful I am for all your care and dedication over these many months."
"The pleasure has been entirely mine, my lord. Your case has been... unique in my experience. I've never seen a patient with your particular condition show such remarkable improvement." The doctor packed his supplies with practiced efficiency. "You should be able to resume normal activities without any restrictions. Though I would recommend avoiding excessive exertion for another few weeks, just as a precaution."
They exchanged pleasantries for several more minutes before Dr. Kurogami took his leave. Alone once again, Kenji called up his system interface with a mixture of anticipation and dread:
**TEMPLATE SYSTEM ACTIVATED**
**Host: Kenji Nakamura**
**Template: Muzan Kibutsuchi (9%)**
**Twelve Kizuki: Locked**
**Primary Abilities: Locked**
**Special Traits: Locked**
**Ultimate Technique: Perfect Demon Physiology (Awakening)**
Nine percent. So close to the threshold that he could practically feel it approaching. Based on the steady progression he had observed, tomorrow—perhaps even tonight—he would reach ten percent. And then... what? Would he complete his transformation into the progenitor of all demons? Would the locked abilities finally become available? Would he lose his humanity entirely?
The system offered no answers, as cryptic and unhelpful as ever.
That evening, Kenji found himself standing on his veranda, staring up at the star-filled sky. The night air was cool against his unnaturally pale skin, and he could smell things in the breeze that no human should have been able to detect—the scent of animals in the distant forest, the metallic tang of iron from the village's blacksmith shop, even the faint aroma of cooking fires from homes miles away.
His enhanced senses were both a gift and a curse. They connected him to the world in ways he had never experienced, but they also served as constant reminders of what he was becoming. Every superhuman perception brought him one step further from his original humanity.
Tomorrow would mark the end of one phase of his existence and the beginning of another. He would become something unprecedented—not just a demon, but the preojenitor of all demons that might follow.
Kenji knew that even at full power, the original Muzan had been no match for legendary figures like Hashirama Senju or Madara Uchiha. If he hoped to navigate this dangerous world and perhaps even change its course, he would need to learn their ways. Chakra, ninjutsu, the martial arts that defined this reality—all of it would be necessary if he wanted to be more than just a powerful monster hiding in the shadows.
But first, he had to survive the final stage of his transformation. He had to retain enough of his humanity to remember why he wanted to help others in the first place.
As he prepared for bed that night, Kenji whispered a prayer to whatever forces had brought him to this world. "Let me keep my compassion," he pleaded. "Let me remember what it means to value human life. And if I must become a monster, let me be one that protects rather than devours."
Sleep came fitfully, filled with dreams of crimson eyes and an insatiable hunger that he prayed would remain nothing more than nightmare.
Tomorrow would bring answers, one way or another.