Chapter 5: Diddyshibo
"Is… Is that Kokushibo?" Jashin muttered, his eyebrows furrowing as a chill ran down his spine. He tried to keep his voice steady, but the slight wobble betrayed his growing panic.
After all, if you suddenly saw a character from a manga you only had memories of, you'd probably be sweating too.
Especially if that character just so happened to be Upper Moon 1, the walking definition of "you're screwed."
Jashin squinted at the figure, trying to convince himself he was hallucinating. But nope—there he was, standing in all his six-eyed, fleshy-katana-wielding glory.
Meanwhile, Kokushibo—or "Kobushino," as Jashin accidentally called him in his flustered brain—turned his head toward the boy.
His six eyes, filled with boredom and an aura that screamed "Why am I even here?", landed on Jashin.
Jashin swore he could hear those eyes silently screaming:
"GOSH, I HATE DOING OVERTIME! AND I HATE MY JOB!"
But despite the imagined inner monologue, Kokushibo looked as unbothered as a Greek god lounging on Mount Olympus.
Chill. Majestic. Completely at ease. Meanwhile, Jashin's fight-or-flight instincts kicked in with such force, he was already mentally mapping the fastest escape route.
You see, Jashin isn't one of those hot-blooded, never-back-down, fight-for-glory types. Nah, bro's got his priorities straight.
"If I can't win, I'm running. Glory? Reputation? Can I eat those? No? Then I don't need 'em," he always says.
And let's be real—Jashin was seven.
What was he supposed to do against a full-grown adult with six freaking eyes and a katana that looked like it had its own heartbeat?
Turn into a human KitKat? Best-case scenario, he'd only lose a limb or two.
Jashin clenched his fists and took a shaky step back, his inner monologue on full volume:
"This is not the kind of unpaid overtime I signed up for, and no way in hell am I sticking around to find out what happens next."
As Jashin was about to make a break for it, Kokushibo suddenly appeared right in front of him like he'd just unlocked a cheat code. Because, let's be honest, bro's built different.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Kokushibo's voice was colder than your ex's heart, and before Jashin could even process what was happening, Kokushibo raised his hand and delivered a chop to the neck so precise it could've been sponsored by Ginsu knives.
Jashin didn't just faint—he fainted-fainted. Lights out. Body on shutdown.
'Hmm… How many children did Muzan-sama tell me to kidnap this time?' Kokushibo thought, his six eyes narrowing like he was trying to remember whether he left the stove on.
Grabbing Jashin's wrist, he inspected the unconscious kid.
"This child doesn't look special… I don't think he'll survive that place," he muttered, shaking his head like a disappointed teacher grading a pop quiz.
Then, louder, he commanded, "Nakime, take him."
A sharp biwa sound echoed through the air as a door materialized beneath Jashin, who was now awkwardly dangling in Kokushibo's grasp.
For a moment, Kokushibo held onto his wrist, as though debating whether this kid would be worth the trouble.
"I hope you don't get Backshot there, kid," Kokushibo said with what could almost be considered pity—if pity were delivered by a terrifying six-eyed swordsman.
Then, he released Jashin's wrist, sending the boy plummeting through the portal as the doors slammed shut.
With Jashin out of sight, Kokushibo slowly turned his attention to the rundown village sprawled out before him.
His expression darkened, and he muttered under his breath, "Shall I kidnap more children now?"
{A/N: Bro's about to become Diddy at this rate. Kidnap-squad energy.}
As Kokushibo stepped into the village, he didn't just stroll in—he brought the apocalypse with him.
Anyone older than twelve? Sliced like a KitKat bar. Limbs flying, blood spraying—it was an all-you-can-eat buffet of carnage.
{A/N: See! That's why Koku's the GOAT. He was KitKat-ing people before it was cool.}
Anyone younger than twelve?
Well, they weren't getting a free pass either. Kokushibo knocked them out cold with a single chop to the neck, sending them into a forced nap faster than you can say "bedtime."
One by one, the unconscious kids were teleported to that place by Nakime's biwa magic.
And just like that, Kokushibo kept the kidnapping spree rolling like it was all in a day's work.
Kokushibo's rampage wasn't about to show favoritism, and Jashin's family was no exception.
He mercilessly sliced through Mama Capitalist Pig, Papa Capitalist Pig, Big Brother Capitalist Pig, and Big Sister Capitalist Pig—none of whom could pass the
"younger than 12 or shiny skin" survival criteria. Seriously, no sparkly skin? Get outta here.
However, three of Jashin's younger siblings made the cut, their unconscious bodies teleported to the same mysterious location as Jashin by none other than Diddyshibo himself.
"Sigh… I hate my job," Kokushibo muttered dramatically, gazing up at the moon like a tragic anti-hero in a soap opera.
His kimono was drenched in blood as he slid his katana back into its sheath, officially done with his nightly kitkat spree.
Meanwhile…
"Huh… Where am I?" Jashin thought as he blinked into consciousness—or so he thought—finding himself surrounded by an endless, pitch-black void.
It was the kind of black so dark that it made voids in anime look like daytime television.
The suffocating emptiness triggered a memory Jashin had desperately tried to suppress.
His days as a fetus.
"NOT THIS AGAIN!!!"
The familiar, inescapable backdrop of nothingness was already unraveling Jashin's sanity. Bro was about five seconds away from screaming, but fate (or cosmic trolling) intervened.
A blinding light appeared.
"Wh-What's that?!" Jashin's reflexes kicked in, and he shut his eyes so tight it was as if the universe had challenged him to a staring contest.
Spoiler: he didn't want to become Gyomei 2.0 this early in life—or ever.
But the light wasn't done flexing.
It transformed into a massive, celestial dragon. Before Jashin could even register what was happening, the dragon surged forward, entering his tightly shut eyes like it had VIP access.
Weirdly, Jashin didn't feel pain. Not even discomfort. It was like the dragon politely RSVP'd before hijacking his ocular real estate.
Minutes later, Jashin cautiously opened his eyes. At first, everything seemed normal. No blindness, no missing eyeballs.
Then, it happened.
A black slit appeared, slicing through the center of his pupils like a glitch in the Matrix. Golden blood flowed into his eyes, dyeing his pupils in shimmering gold with a sinister black outline.
{Image Here}
It was like his vision had just gotten a serious upgrade from basic mortal settings to legendary mode.
And then, just like that, Jashin woke up.
"GASP!"
{A/N: Okay, this wraps up the three-chapter foundation period of this fic. From here on out, I'll be diving deeper into details and aiming to improve the quality with every chapter!
Please feel free to drop comments for encouragement, suggestions, or just random jokes. Let's make this fic a wild ride!}
Chapter 6: Vagina Demon...
{A/N: Please Leave a comment, my kind sire}
"Hey, you. You're finally awake."
Jashin gasped awake from his bizarre dream—or maybe "weird fever dream" is more accurate. And by as soon as he woke up, I mean literally in the next nano-second, a voice echoed above his head.
The tone was... odd. Like it carried an air of authority but had this weird undertone of submission mixed in.
It was both masculine and feminine, somehow blending together in a way that made Jashin's half-asleep brain struggle to classify it.
A transgender voice?! (Just kidding… or am I?)
Jashin's still-sleepy eyes felt like they were being stabbed with molten needles or, to put it bluntly, like taking a solid kick to the balls while someone poured 150°F hot water directly on him.
And yes, Jashin would know, having experienced both tragedies in his rather eventful life.
Despite the literal eyeball abuse, he managed—somehow—to pry his lids open and squint upward to see who the heck was talking.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
What Jashin saw above him was so horrifying, so outright mind-breaking, that he screamed like his very soul had been snatched by an eldritch horror.
And mind you, this guy didn't even shed a tear that one time he got his jewels obliterated because, you know, aura and all that. But this? This was on another level.
What he saw was...
WHAT HE SAW WAS!
A vagina.
With eyes.
And wings.
Yes, my dear friends, you heard that right—a flying, eye-staring, judgmental vagina.
Now, it wasn't literally a vagina, but let's be real—it looked disturbingly close to one.
Add some unsettling eyes, flappy wings, and an ugly-as-hell mouth that seemed to belong to the worst rendition of a Pixar villain, and you've got yourself the nightmare fuel that Jashin was staring at.
And it was staring back. Oh, boy, was it judging him with those eyes. Probably thinking something like, "Is this human screaming because he's overwhelmed by my majestic beauty?"
Spoiler alert: If this thing truly believed that, it needed some serious self-awareness—or therapy. Preferably both.
But wait, there's more! That creepy-ass smile. Ugh.
It wasn't just unsettling—it was the demon version of someone who thought they were the ultimate rizz god of their time (or at least what they considered a rizz god in this godforsaken era).
"Human child. Stop being so awestruck by my beauty," the… vagina-esque demon said in a voice that somehow managed to sound even weirder than it looked.
Meanwhile, Jashin—whose face was turning paler by the second—was barely holding it together. His stomach was churning like it was auditioning for a blender commercial.
"UGEEHHHHHHH."
And there it was. The grand moment of inevitability. He vomited. And no, it wasn't the cute, rainbow-colored vomit you see in cartoons where everything is sparkles and giggles.
Let's be real, comrades. Vomit is not a magical unicorn projectile. It's gross, it's messy, and it was splattered everywhere like a Jackson Pollock painting gone horribly wrong.
"Ewwww, you humans are so disgusting," the vagina-looking demon said with the exaggerated conviction of someone who had personally witnessed every grimy corner of human nature.
Spoiler alert: It hadn't.
Honestly, if this thing even dared to hover over a small town, the local crowd of desperate, hormonal virgins would probably catch it in no time.
Chanting stuff like, "Looks breedable enough" or,
"Looks feminine enough" while biting their lips like they were auditioning for a budget romance drama.
And let's be real, things wouldn't end well for ol' Winged Judge Judy.
But before Jashin could process any of that—or even attempt to scrape his dignity off the floor—the demon spoke again, cutting right to the chase. "Boy, I have no time. So listen carefully."
Jashin blinked, still trying to wrap his head around this surreal encounter.
"Undress yourself."
The demon said it in such a tone, so commanding yet weirdly suggestive, that for a split second, it felt like bro was about to start giving backshots.
Except… it didn't have a dick. Or balls. At all. The logistics were questionable at best.
Meanwhile, Jashin, still pale and shaking, was internally screaming, his thoughts a chaotic mess of disbelief. What the hell is happening right now?!
But the demon didn't wait for an answer—or give Jashin any chance to pull himself together. "Never mind, I don't have enough time for that," it muttered with an exasperated sigh, as if deeply inconvenienced.
And then, without warning, a slimy tentacle shot out from its back and coiled around Jashin. He yelped as he was yanked upward, his mind teetering on the brink of a full-blown breakdown.
Not because he was scared. (Okay, fine, he was scared. Terrified, actually.)
But also because something deeper—something primal—was stirring inside him.
Those long-dormant dragon hormones were starting to wake up, pumping strange new instincts through his veins, and they weren't exactly making this any easier.
His brain felt like it was glitching, personality shifts crashing in like waves, leaving him hanging on by a thread.
"Let's go now," the demon said matter-of-factly, turning to exit the small, dimly lit room they were in.
Only now did Jashin even notice the room at all—probably because the mental meltdown he was experiencing had blurred everything else into static.
He couldn't help but think, What the hell kind of cosmic prank is this?!
Even while the vagina demon was hauling him out, Jashin didn't so much as twitch. Not a single, pathetic flail. No attempt at escape. Nothing.
Because, let's be honest, the dude's mind was getting flambéed right now.
It was like his entire reality had been tossed into a blender, set to "existential crisis mode," and left spinning.
Every experience, every memory he'd ever had now felt like some sad illusion cooked up by his own pathetic subconscious.
It was like that bizarre feeling you get when you look at someone you've known for years—someone you could describe down to their quirks and favorite pizza topping—and suddenly, out of nowhere, you feel like you don't know them at all.
You can't explain it, but it's unsettling as hell. That's where Jashin's head was at. Full-on what-the-heck-is-life territory.
As the two finally left the room, Jashin's blurry focus registered that they were on the third floor of a massive wooden tower.
Now, it wasn't anything jaw-dropping—definitely not a modern skyscraper or something that'd make an architect weep with joy—but it was decent for its time. A good ol' sturdy wooden build. Tower goals, maybe.
Down on the ground level, in front of the tower—which was surrounded by even more similar towers—was a pale humanoid figure.
This guy had pink hair crisscrossed with strange blue basketball lines, looking like he'd just walked out of some weird gothic sci-fi cosplay convention.
And he was giving a speech. Oh boy, was he giving a speech.
"Remember, all of you! Muzan-sama is the only salvation in this world!" he declared, his voice booming with the conviction of a politician during campaign season.
A group of kids, barely hitting their teenage years, stood below him, listening with the kind of wide-eyed intensity that only comes from complete and utter brainwashing.
"Only Muzan-sama can grant eternal life and create a world of peace! But those vile Demon Slayer Corps hunt us innocent demons and want to destroy everything we stand for!"
the guy continued, arms outstretched like he was delivering the sermon of a lifetime.
"Now, tell me, would you let them do it?!"
"NO!" the kids screamed in unison, their voices filled with misguided fervor.
"DEATH TO HERETICS!"
"ALL HAIL MUZAN-MAMA!"
The kids chanted like they were rehearsing for some dystopian Broadway show, their eyes glazed over with pure devotion.
They looked at Muzan—who wasn't even there—with the kind of worship usually reserved for benevolent deities.
But let's not sugarcoat it. This was bullshit. Pure, unfiltered bullshit.
....
{A/N: Guess what I just did? Go on, take a wild guess! Come on, you've got this. Guess! Guess!
...No? Fine, sigh, I'll just tell you. I made Muzan—the big ol' dumbass—SMARTER. Yep, you heard me. Smarter.
Why? Because in almost every Demon Slayer fic I've read, Muzan and the demons are just painfully dumb. Like, cartoon villain levels of dumb.
And honestly, even in canon, they weren't exactly winning any genius awards. So, yeah, I decided to crank up their IQs a bit.
Even if they're not the main antagonists here, I thought, Why not make them at least a little competent? After all, what's the fun in a fic where the villains are so dumb they practically trip over their own schemes?
Anyway, moving on!
Here's a quick quiz for you guys:
What do you think will be the first draconic ability our MC unlocks (besides his cool new dragon eyes)?
Hint: ...No hint. Yeah, I'm evil like that.
Oh, and if you want some steady chapters to keep coming your way, drop some comments and hit that power stone button. Show your boy some love! 😉(Not the gay type one) }
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