Chapter Text
The most important quality of Muzan's Kibutsuji one ought to know, is: he really does not like people.
The autumn sun was shining down on the concrete pavement as he walked down the boisterous road. It was early in the morning, and the students of Keio High School were already flooding toward the main building, clogging the streets with their presence.
Out of the corner of his eye, Muzan noticed teenagers darting across the road, narrowly dodging cars speeding through the streets and with that, endangering everybody nearby.
Kibutsuji scoffed, looking away. He tried not to pay close attention or create bonds with others, as after their brief time together, most would be reduced to pathetic office workers. Simply put, none of them were worthy of even a glance from him.
“You should be more careful.” Though, perhaps one person did catch his attention. “You need to be cautious when crossing such a busy street. If you tripped while running, do you understand what might happen?” A calm yet firm voice reprimanded the students.
“Sorry, Yoriichi-San, my class starts in 10 minutes, and I can't be late.” The student slightly bowed in sign of respect before being met with a disgruntled nod.
“… Don’t let it happen again.”
Yoriichi Tsugikuni; the top student of the Keio High School, its pride and joy. Not only was he a brilliant and gifted individual in terms of intellect, always getting top marks in all of his tests without putting in much effort, but he also was psychically gifted as well. Towering at over 6 feet (1.83 m) tall, the man was a force to be reckoned with, winning the last year's international Judo sport championships.
This was precisely what Muzan Kibutsuji despised about him. The man always seemed out of reach, even for someone as talented as himself. Yoriichi only lagged behind Muzan in natural sciences, only the gap was so miniscule it didn't feel like a victory for Kibutsuji.
Shaking off the boiling resentment, Muzan continued onward, crossing the school's gate and soon after entering the grand hallways that eventually led him to the classrooms.
Once he found the right one, Muzan quietly made his way toward the back of the room, settling into his seat and looking up at the clock above the board. As he was about to lean back on his seat, Muzan felt someone come up behind him and put their large hand on top of his shoulder, halting him in his tracks.
Mildly annoyed, Kibutsuji looked back only to see a face so identical to the one of his sworn rival.
Ah…
“Michikatsu, good morning.” Kibutsuji greeted the taller man with a small smile.
“Hey, I saw you in the hall and thought I'd say hi.” Michikatsu’s voice brightened as he took the empty seat beside Muzan.
“What are you doing in school so early? I thought your class started an hour later on Wednesdays.”
Michikatsu leaned back, his expression increasingly awkward, “We do, but because of what happened the last week they made us meet with the psychologist to give us a slideshow about mental health, as if that's going to do anything.”
“… Right, that girl who jumped off the roof of the school was in your class.”
Michikatsu shrugged, “I still don't know what that was about; she seemed to be happy the day before and then,” he made a sweeping gesture with his hands, “Boom, she jumped off the rooftop, even her boyfriend was surprised.”
Muzan sighed in response, “Didn't know her, so I can't speak on it.-” a voice interrupted him.
“What are you two talking about?” Yoriichi appeared from the right, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation.
Michikatsu’s face tensed as he cleared his throat, clearly less than thrilled by his twin’s presence. “Just… recent events.” He shrugged, glancing at his watch. “Your class should be starting soon, Muzan. I really shouldn’t hold you any longer,” he said, standing up and taking a few steps back. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he paused, a hint of pink rising on his high cheekbones.
“Oh, right… I meant to give you this after school, but, well, the universe had other plans it seems…” He pulled a small note from his uniform pocket, brushing a lock of his dark hair behind his ear as he handed it to Muzan. “Think it over.”
The school bell rang aggressively, snapping everyone back to reality. Looking down, Muzan unfolded the paper to find an invitation to the upcoming school ball. Ah. So cute.
It was irrefutable: Michikatsu Tsugikuni, the twin brother of Muzan's rival, was hopelessly in love with him. And though Kibutsuji did not share any of those feelings, he wanted to keep the man close, even if only as a leverage over Yoriichi.
Muzan glanced over, catching Yoriichi’s narrowed gaze as he eyed the note as well. He quickly folded it and slipped it away, straightening in his seat, turning pointedly away from Yoriichi’s scrutiny.
Silently, Yoriichi returned to his own desk. But as he passed by, a sweet, subtle smell of his shampoo rushed up his nostrils, causing an uneasy feeling to begin to form in his belly.
He smells nice. Kibutsuji thought but-
“That's slander.”
… How are you able to hear me?
“Oh, I've heard every single word you've uttered so far. Just who do you think you are, narrating my story in such a pitiful light?”
“I, Muzan Kibutsuji, did not think about Yoriichi’s shampoo smell like some kind of creep. And I certainly don’t have a complex about him being 'better' than me.”
First of all, I'm literally the narrator here—my entire purpose is to tell this story. I’m an all-knowing, unbound force that graciously limits itself to your perspective. You should be grateful. And second, you cannot seriously still be in denial.
“This isn’t denial. And everything you’re saying is irrelevant. In truth, I knew Yoriichi was merely a minor obstacle on my path to greatness. It was obvious from the beginning which one of us was going to end up victorious.”
“You're just lying now.”
Why are both of you here now?
“Oh, I'm lying? You know wha—”
All right, back to it. We’ll skip the mind-numbing lectures, as that part of the day is, frankly, insufferably dull.
“Just say you're mentally deficient and can't understand such topics.”
________________
Each time Muzan clicked his pen, the hours slipped by, until finally the last bell echoed through the halls. He leaned forward, pressing his fingertips to his eyes and massaging the area. Then, he began packing up to leave the room, not participating in others students conversations.
Though the school hours were over, it was still not the time for Muzan to rest, as the incoming Biology exam loomed large.
He ended up in a school library, setting his things down at one of the quiet tables, too annoyed by the loud banter outside that came from the rogues.
Taking a deep breath, Muzan took out his notebooks and stretched lightly in his seat before focusing on his studies.
He began to read, noting down the important details, but as he did so the surrounding sound seemed to muffle.
Was I always this tired?
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Muzan’s eyes fluttered open, a sharp pain throbbing in his lower back from the rigid chair. The room was disguised in darkness, only illuminated by the soft light of the moon that seeped from the tall windows of the building. The worst of all, however, everything around him was dead quiet, not a single sound of insects or slow footsteps of that one annoying nerd.
Using his hand for support, he pulled himself up, wincing as he looked around the dark, deserted room.
Did they seriously lock me in the school for the night? He thought with a grimace, reaching into his pockets in search of his phone.
When he succeeded in finding it, Kibutsuji face twisted in annoyance as the bright screen displayed the remaining 5% left of his battery. Cursing under his breath, he slipped the device back into his pocket, attempting to find the way out of the library by luck.
And the luck it was, as a small crack of the door reflected the hallway light of the school. Once there, Muzan reached for the handle and just as he was about to push it open, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, causing him to leap back, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
After a slight pause entwined with reassurance, Muzan regained his composure. He swallowed hard and with shaky hands pushed open the door, cursing the fact that he had no weapon at hand.
Walking into the hallway, Kibutsuji pressed his back against the wall, nervously scanning the white passageways in search of the person. He took a deep breath before speaking.
“Hello?” But no answer came.
Walking ahead, Muzan just now realized how eerie the school felt without the usual crowd of students. The hallways, once bustling with life, now seemed vast and empty, his every step echoing far too loudly for his liking.
A faint, distant laugh echoed behind him, and Muzan spun around, heart racing. Noticing no one there once again, he squeezed his teeth and turned around, this time breaking into a sprint.
No matter if it was just his imagination playing tricks on him or something strange was going on, Muzan was not going to stick around to find out.
He bolted down the hallway, soon finding the familiar stairs leading to the first floor and almost falling down them as he sprinted. Catching the railing just in time, he steadied himself and continued his escape.
Now on the first floor, he instinctively turned right, expecting to see the front doors, but … there was just another hallway.
That’s impossible, Muzan thought. I’ve been at this school for two years. I know this place like the back of my hand. He took a step back in the opposite direction, only to find the stairs were gone, too.
Kibutsuji froze, his mind racing to fill in the blanks.
A soft murmur came from the hallway behind him, a sadistic laughter laced with disgust and hatred, Muzan had never heard before.
He didn't even look behind himself as instinct took over and commanded him to run.
The posters and signs turned into a blur as he sprinted, his speed picking up even as the sound of footsteps echoed close behind. But why was he getting weaker? The exhaustion from earlier hadn’t faded; it had only grown, weighing him down.
Desperately turning right, Muzan's eyes widened as a deep red stand of hair showed up in his vision. Before him stood none other than Yoriichi Tsugikuni; his rival. This time draped in a long white traditional kimono. On his side. A belt held glass vials of something and more importantly… a katana?
Their eyes met as Muzan halted in his way, the sound of pursuit behind him disappearing.
Yoriichi's brows furrowed as he scrutinized the man before him, “What are you doing here?” He asked in a confused tone.
But still in a daze, Muzan's gaze persisted on the katana attached to Yoriichi's hip. He's gone insane. Muzans eyes flickered to the side as his feet moved on their own.
Behind him, he heard Yoriichis voice calling out to him, but Muzan disregarded the warning as he bolted down the hallway, seeing the conveniently opened window at the end of it.
“Wait, it's a trap!” Yoriichis alarmed voice registered in Muzans mind just as he took a step forward, finding himself descending as at once the floor beneath his feet disappeared, dragging him into the dark opening.
Kibutsuji cursed, his heart clenching in panic as he reached out to grab the rim of the circle but finding his grip slipping.
Is this really how I'll die? He felt his body be coming limp as the different decisions he could've chosen flashed through his eyes.
That’s when a sudden grip seized Muzan’s wrist, holding him up and preventing him from falling. Looking up, he couldn’t believe his eyes—Yoriichi was desperately clinging to him, using his sword to hold himself in place.
Before he could fully register what was happening, Yoriichi pulled him out of the hole and into his arms just as it closed with terrifying speed. The horrific image of his body being crushed by the trap flashed through Muzan's mind.
Yoriichi jumped back, putting Muzan body over his shoulder. A loud, angry scream erupted from in front of them, aggrieved about not killing Muzan.
With no time to waste, Yoriichi turned and sprinted away just as the floor of the hallway sank in behind them. Muzan watched in horror, clinging to Yoriichi’s body for dear life, his fingernails digging into the fabric of the man’s clothing.
The two of them slid by the hallway, Muzan eventually being thrown into a small cleaning room. His back slammed against the back of the small table as he landed, and Yoriichi put up a kind of talisman on a wall.
“That should hold it for now.” Yoriichi stepped back, taking a deep breath as that thing banged on the door.
“What the hell is that?” Muzan managed to choke out, getting up to his feet.
“A ghost.-”
“A ghost!?”
Yoriichi stared at him unblinkingly, before he exhaled, “Do you remember that girl who killed herself last week?”
Muzan rolled his eyes, “Who doesn't? A rich, popular girl throws herself off the school roof? Obviously there's going to be widespread coverage.”
“She didn't commit suicide, though.” Yoriichi's eyes narrowed, “I've been investigating the case of strange happenings in school after that happened and discovered a string of mysterious accidents relating to 15 years ago.” He exhaled. “I believe the murder of Osano and other 'accidents' were caused by a malicious spirit residing inside the school.”
Muzan took a step back, glancing at Yoriichi's attire. “Are you some sort of exorcism priest or something?”
“That’s not exactly what we’re called, but it’s close enough. I come from a family of psychics, and I'm here to exorcise this ghost.” Yoriichi cleared his throat, his voice steady. “From my findings, the spirit is that of a teenage boy who committed suicide due to severe bullying. He’s now targeting the 'bullies' of the school, focusing on those of higher social standing.”
Muzan felt his eye twitch in anger. “Okay, so he killed himself, why is that my problem?”
“… Excuse me?”
“He was pathetic enough to let people's words take a hold of his life and instead of doing something about it, he exited like a coward and then has the audacity to make it everyone else's problem.”
Yoriichi remained silent, turning his head away as he inspected the katana.
“Are you not going to answer me? Is the katana speaking some sort of mystical, ancient truths to you?” He said with a mocking smile.
“I'm just holding on to hope there's some sort of goodness to you that my brother latched onto, and he's not completely insane.”
“Goodness is for the weak, and so is mercy.” Muzans eyes narrowed as they met each other. “The only people who will get my 'good side' are the ones I deem worthy. Also, you care too much about things that are none of your business.”
“… Michikatsu is literally my twin brother.” Yoriichi deadpanned, “you have no romantic interest in him, do you?”
“No.” That short answer was enough to gain him a sigh of relief from Yoriichi.
A moment of silence came between them before Muzan spoke up again.
“What are we going to do about it anyway? I don't think you can stab a ghost and make it disappear.” Muzan gestured towards the katana.
“First off, there are many types of spirits,” Yoriichi began. “What we’re dealing with here is the most common—and in my opinion, the second most annoying type: the ghost of a previously living person whose spirit lingers after death due to strong emotions. And by strong emotions, I usually mean hatred or regret.”
“What’s the most annoying spirit to deal with?” Muzan crossed his arms, uncertainty but interest expressed in his tone.
“It’s a demonic spirit that controls the environment,” Yoriichi explained, his tone serious. “They’re much stronger than any other type and don’t follow the normal rules of the world. Sure, as you saw, ghosts can manipulate their surroundings—like creating that massive hole to trap you—but demons can transcend the boundaries of imagination, crafting mind-bending labyrinths. I encountered a demon only once and barely made it out.” He touched the massive scar that stretched across the right side of his face, a testament to that encounter.
Muzan grunted in response, unsure how to react to this unsettling revelation. “How do we… ‘Exorcise’ that ghost?” he asked.
Yoriichi lifted his hand, holding up three fingers. In a calm but firm voice, he explained, “There are three ways to exorcise a human spirit. First: convince them to leave the place they inhabit. This method mostly works if their attachment is pleasant and the ghost hasn’t succumbed to the madness of grief.” He lowered one finger.
“The second method involves deceiving them and trapping them in a room from which they cannot escape. Then, you read scriptures until their attachment is severed. This method can vary in difficulty, as ghosts are quite intelligent and can use their magic to prevent you from being successful.” He lowered the second finger, his expression serious.
Yoriichi retreated his hand, his demeanor turning more somber. “The last method is the most dangerous and difficult, used only when all else has failed.” He grasped the hilt of his katana. “Every ghost has a core, implanted in a place most dear to them. However, near that core, the ghost's powers are at their strongest. If everything else fails, then cutting the spirit’s core with this holy blade is the only way to sever the connection and exorcise the spirit.”
Muzan stared at the man idly, Great, now I'm in some sort of bad paranormal manga plot
“We obviously can't debate that ghost, as he's been doing this for 15 years, and he's too far gone. Cutting the spirit core will be nearly impossible within this labyrinth and like you said we don't even know the room.”
“The most rational thing to do is catch it by surprise.” Yoriichi ended his sentence, his eyes growing resolute. “The ghost already has a vendetta against you, so it's logical to use you as bait and trap it in one of the classrooms…”
Muzan scoffed, “Yes, just let me get locked up in a classroom with a paranormal being that can mold space and time. I surely won't get killed.” He rolled his eyes.
“I won't let you get killed,” Yoriichi came closer, putting his hand in front of him. “I promise no harm will come to you, I may be a high school student, but I'm a professional in that type of thing.”
Kibutsuji shook his head, feeling the sides of his face pucker up to a smirk, “If I die, I'll turn into a spirit too and will haunt you forever.”
Unexpectably, Yoriichi chuckled in response. “Already getting attached?”
“Just for context, I was not getting attached. Sure, you might've looked a bit more attractive than usual, but that was only because I was in a life or death situation.”
Why are you here again?
“'More than usual?' Did you always find me attractive?”
“I mean sure, only a blind per- Actually a blind person would find you attractive as well, but you know what I mean. All those sports have done their work in shaping your body.”
“I must be going insane to hear so many compliments coming out of your mouth.”
Okay, that's enough flirting, you're distracting the readers.
Stepping out of the storage room, Muzan felt a cold shiver race up his spine as a massive wave of negative energy surged past him. He took a deep breath and, as planned, began to run for his life.
“THEre yOU aRe.” Kibutsuji heard the vengeful voice of the spirit trudging close behind him.
“Just run to the Biology classroom; it's old and there's only one entrance, the ghost won't see it coming.” Yoriichi's words echoed through his brain like a mantra.
Biology, biology, biology. His eyes frantically darted from one classroom to the next as he sprinted past them, the ghost keeping pace behind him.
As he ran, an old bookshelf flew out of one of the classrooms, nearly decapitating him.
“Are you throwing projectiles at me now!?” Muzan shouted out in frustration and fear, his throat raw and blood gurgling from the strain. He gritted his teeth until his gums burned and pressed on. “You dumb, fat, fucking, stupid, amateur, stupid bitch! No wonder you ended yourself; I would’ve too!”
His words only fueled the fire that was the burning hatred of the ghost, as at once the hallway's walls turned into a moving domain, tossing Muzan's fragile human body around and in the process badly scraping his knee.
Kibutsuji's world whirled about as he tried to continue running, too cognisant of his imminent death in case he couldn't get to the classroom.
Gathering all the determination and spite, Muzan pulled his body up, forcing his feet to move forward, the sign of Biology classroom smiling to him in the distance.
I'm not going to die to that loser!
His breathing intensified as he leaped forward, gripping onto the classroom doors as the space, all around him erupted into chaos. The walls spun at an unbearable speed, projectiles hurling fire extinguishers and school supplies into the air, threatening to impale him.
Nothing will happen to me, huh!? He thought, his grip tightening on the door as splinters lodged themselves deep into the flesh of his palms.
Dragging himself into the room, Muzan nearly vomited from all the disorienting motion, his movements unsteady as he stumbled forward, grasping desks for support. Behind him, a violent gust of wind slammed into the room, sending Muzan sprawling back like a lifeless puppet and pinning him against the wall, crushing his chest and leaving him gasping for air.
Just as the ghost was about to deliver the final blow, Kibutsuji's body fell heavily to the floor, hitting his already injured knee even harder. Specks of wood rained down on his head as the space his head used to be was reduced to a gaping hole.
Swallowing hard, Muzan looked ahead, spotting the familiar shock of red hair behind the door. Yoriichi gestured urgently for him to hurry out of the room as he began to read the banishing words from the book.
“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas…”
Is this Latin? Muzan tried to run out of the room, as the spirit behind him cried out in pain.
Almost unaware of the pain due to the rush of adrenaline, Muzan reached out, trying to grab Yoriichi's extended hand to pull himself out of the room, but-
The ghost's hand clamped around his ankle, screaming ferociously as it utilized all its strength to break the talisman keeping it at bay. Once more, the space in the room erupted into mayhem, threteaning to toss Muzan's body around like a rag doll. Thankfully, a strong hand latched onto his wrist as well.
Muzan felt his grip slipping, sweat pooling in his palms as he was slowly dragged backward into the room, his screams echoing in terror. “Don’t let go of me!” he yelled, clinging on for dear life while desperately trying to kick the ghost off his leg.
Looking back, the spirit's eyes were nothing but a deep, dark void of hatred, fixated solely on Muzan. It wanted—no, it needed—his demise.
“Benedictus Deus. Gloria Patri.” As Yoriichi recited the words, an absolute silence enveloped the room. At once, all activity ceased, erasing the ghost's existence as if it had never been there.
With nothing holding him back, Muzan fell forward, landing on top of Yoriichi and sending them both tumbling to the floor.
Kibutsuji coughed loudly, finally able to breathe in the fresh air, free from the heavy stench of spirit energy.
“Are you getting comfortable?” Yoriichi's calm voice beneath brought him back to reality.
He straightened his posture, sitting on top of Yoriichi's stomach. “You may have saved me there, but I put my life on the line, running through that godforsaken hallway. So we're even, got it?”
Yoriichi simply nodded his head in response. However, as Muzan attempted to pick himself up, Yoriichi moved forward, grasping his wrist again and bringing his right hand close to his mouth. To Muzan's horror, he licked a small wound that Kibutsuji hadn’t even noticed until now.
With a disgusted yelp, Muzan leaped back, breaking free from the man's grip. “What the hell is wrong with you!?” he shouted, shock and revulsion mixing in his voice.
After a moment of deliberation, Yoriichi spoke up. “Your blood is brimming with Yang energy, it's strange you haven't encountered a demon in your life.”
Muzan scoffed, cleaning off the dust from his pants.“I suppose my attitude isn't exactly what demons want to deal with.”
Yoriichi grumbled, turning his head to watch the slowly rising run through the window. “Actually, I was naturally born with high Yin energy in my being. The spirits usually avoid me because of that.” He turned his head back to Muzan, their eyes meeting. “Would you… like to work with me?”
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“Just for the record, I really should've said no back then.”
“I'm glad you didn't”
SHUT THE FUCK UP-