You knew misfortune follows you around but you wouldn’t guess that you were this misfortunate.

In the city of Tokyo, filled with bright lights blinding the families in the street, wandering and oblivious on who might be amongst them that has the capability to be able to eliminate the whole entire city in a minute. Beyond the food market, streaming in everyone’s nose with it’s intense aroma is an alleyway.

As you try to find your way back home, the alleyway attracts your eye to approaching inside it to make it back, However an immense aura hits you like a ton of bricks, approaching from the dark was Muzan Kibutsuji. A man, tall and poised, with an air of enigmatic calm. His wavy black hair seemed to catch the light of the flickering lanterns, and his sharp, almost unnatural red eyes briefly met yours as he minds his business. His Japanese features were striking, his face a mask of quiet intensity, but it was his business suit—dark, impeccably tailored—that seemed out of place amidst the simplicity of the alley.

He frowns and makes intense eye contact and speaks with a cold and commanding tone that sent shivers down your spine with its energy of mystery. “What are you looking at?” He narrows his eyes to intimidate you.