"What the hell!"
"Where did you drag me this time?"
"Is this still even the same country?"
Before Ryo Anzai could react, a tidal wave of foreign memories crashed into him, prying his mind open like a rusty lid. Chaos churned through his skull, images spinning like a broken record.
The Meiji era.
Rumors of demons that feast on humans by night.
Warriors known as the Demon Slayer Corps hunt them down to protect mankind.
Ryo froze.
No way.
No freaking way.
This was the world of Demon Slayer.
His expression cycled rapidly from confused, to horrified, to a full-blown meltdown.
Bro, this cannot be happening.
I have tens of thousands of primogems saved and I haven't even pulled a single limited banner yet.
Nobody is there to protect the Leaf Village in my game account.
My family heirloom armor skin wasn't even equipped.
There are terabytes of important "study materials" on my computer that I did not delete.
And my phone browser history, plus those questionable apps and games, are all still there…
If someone hacks my phone now…
"My reputation!" he cried to the heavens.
He, a model citizen who fed stray cats and helped grandmas cross the street, simply stayed up too late and somehow died on the spot? Then got drafted into a world full of man-eating demons?
Turns out sleep deprivation really can kill you.
So this is what transmigration is like now? They do not even give you a chance to log off?
Good news: Ryo Anzai has read the manga and watched the anime thoroughly.
Bad news: He is about to die. Again.
A ripping pain tore through his insides. His body convulsed violently and he vomited a pool of blood. He felt like every organ was failing simultaneously.
The memories he inherited told the rest.
The original owner of this body was a sickly boy.
His parents were devoured by demons.
He survived only because a terrifying, one-legged old man rescued him.
"So tragic already. System bro, stop pretending you don't exist!"
Ryo gasped through clenched teeth.
A crackling static noise answered from inside his head.
[Demon Suppression System activated]
[Slaying demons will grant you lifespan and cure your chronic illness. Lifespan may also be used to learn Breathing Techniques and swordsmanship]
Ryo twitched.
There it was.
The scammer.
"System, how long do I have to live?"
[Congenital liver failure. Estimated lifespan: one year. Teehee~]
"Teehee your stupid face!"
Ryo nearly spat blood again. With his current frail body, he could barely stand. How was he supposed to kill demons?
No Nichirin sword.
Nearly no lifespan.
Not even enough health to survive a strong breeze.
What kind of messed up pay-to-win system requires you to pay with your own life?!
"How am I supposed to kill demons like this? Befriend them and ask politely for them to cut their own necks?!"
[Relax. At least it is your liver and not your lungs. Training will slow the dying process a bit. You can die slower]
Ryo's molars cracked under pressure.
"What shady factory created you? I want to file a complaint!"
The system went silent, pretending to be dead.
Ryo eventually accepted his cruel reality.
He could complain forever, but if he did not kill demons, he really would die within the year.
That was the simplest logic ever.
Kill demons or die.
Living demands murder.
Just as he clenched his fists in determination, a deliberate cough sounded from the door.
Ryo looked up.
A short, stern old man stood at the entrance.
White hair, white beard, a scar under one eye just like a battle-worn wolf.
His right leg was missing, replaced with a prosthetic supported by a wooden cane.
His presence was calm yet heavy like a mountain.
Sakonji Urokodaki.
Former Water Hashira.
Master of both Zenitsu and Kaigaku in the original timeline.
Urokodaki studied him, his voice gruff but laced with concern.
"You have a stubborn life force."
"Thank you for saving me," Ryo said, trying to bow despite wobbling like a newborn fawn.
The old man walked closer, eyes sharp as knives as he examined Ryo.
"Your body is like rotten wood. One gust of wind could snap you in half. Congenital organ failure. Very little blood. Surviving this long is already a miracle."
Ryo stared at him silently.
Thanks for the reminder.
Really boosting my confidence here, old man.
"Were you born this way?" Urokodaki asked.
He frowned deeply.
"The Corps' medics might be able to extend your time, but not by much."
Ryo's lips twisted in a bitter smile.
According to the timeline in his inherited memories, this is roughly ten years before the original story begins.
Shinobu and Kanae are still children.
Butterfly Mansion is not even built.
Medical treatment?
Absolutely hopeless.
And becoming a demon?
No salary.
No benefits.
No job security because Muzan's company fires employees by literally killing them.
Even modern CEOs would cry at how ruthless he is.
Even if Ryo wanted to become a demon just to look fabulous in a maid outfit, Muzan would eventually dig through his memories, learn the location of the Blue Spider Lily, then crush him like a soda can.
Why fear the sun and become a monster if you can aim higher and be a JoJo-tier lifeform instead?
So that path was dead from the start.
His only route to survival was to grind lifespan by slaying demons.
Kill or be killed.
He had no luxury of hesitation.
The fire of survival burned away all his doubts.
Urokodaki mistook his silence for despair and opened his mouth to offer comforting words about accepting one's fate.
But Ryo moved.
He slowly pushed himself upright, legs shaking, yet determination holding him firm.
He bowed deeply, ninety degrees, to the former Hashira.
"Coach, I want to play basketball… Wait, wrong script."
He coughed once, straightening his back with newfound resolve.
"Master Urokodaki! I want to slay demons! Please teach me!"
The room fell silent.
Ryo's body was broken and nearly dead.
His future was a steep cliff.
Yet his eyes were burning with a fierce light.
The same fire once seen in countless warriors who chose to fight the night.
Urokodaki's stern expression did not soften, but something unspoken flickered in his gaze. Responsibility. Expectation. The heavy weight of deciding who might walk into death for the sake of humanity.
"You can barely stand," the old man replied. "Yet you wish to wield a sword?"
"I must."
Ryo clenched his fist.
"If I don't fight back, I won't even live to regret it."
For the first time, his voice carried the strength his body lacked.
Urokodaki let out a quiet breath, as though acknowledging fate's strange humor.
"Then prove you can endure."
Thus began Ryo Anzai's desperate race against death.
No cheat powers.
No infinite stamina.
Just a broken body, a mocking system, and a burning need to live.
He will fight demons.
He will steal every second of life from their ashes.
He will claw his way toward survival.
And he will not go quietly.