'Thoughts'

  "Speech"

  Kanae, ever the saint despite his biting tongue, began treating him with practiced focus. The Kakushi arrived shortly after, summoned by the frantic cawing of a Kasugai Crow.

  ?Jin, meanwhile, had gone silent. He wasn't dead—regrettably—but his mind was a construction site. Two sets of chaotic memories were currently being shoved into one battered, malnourished skull.

  ?'Man, this kid—or rather, the ‘me’ before I unlocked developer options—lived life on Hardcore mode, he thought, sorting through the wreckage of a life.'

  ?The boy had named himself "Jin," mostly because no one else had bothered to give him one. For fourteen years, he’d survived a world that hated his guts. He’d been born "unique," cursed with lustrous, shimmering eyes that made him look less like a local and more like a rare, shiny pokemon that nobody liked.

  ?His only shield, a mother who’d worked herself to the bone, had flickered out when he was barely five. After that? The streets.

  ?'What the hell is this?'

  Jin’s mind sneered.

  'A budget character-insert for a poverty-stricken Doma? Please don't tell me that cult-leader actually nded a hit on someone. I thought his sacks were as empty as his soul.'

  ?It felt like a tasteless parody. Jin’s naturally numb emotions had been his only armor, earning him bels like "demon" and "cursed dog." He’d spent his life as a ghost , surviving due to his wits and adaptability , eventually ending up in that swampy paddy field cage because he’d protected and helped a sacrifice escape as she had fed him a rice ball out of pity.

  '?Heh. A kid who barely feels human has more humanity than these vilge pricks,' Jin cursed internally.

  ?It was a lot to process. One minute he was dying alone, calling emergency services to come sweep up his remains; the next, he was waking up in a body covered in mud like Arnold in Predator. He’d been furious enough to stab something, and luckily, a demon had been standing right there.

  ?As the Kakushi loaded him onto a stretcher, his ribs screaming with every movement, the realization of his new reality finally clicked.

  '?So, that’s the py? I’ve been isekaied into a homeless Doma and now everyone wants a piece of me? Great. Fantastic.'

  ?As a "cultural enthusiast," he recognized the haoris and the swords. This was Demon Syer.

  ?'Watching the anime was fine, but nobody signed me up for the live-action experience, he grumbled. Before Muzan Jackson even shows his face, I’m probably going to croak from maria, sepsis, or a stray nuke.'

  ?He looked at the blurred stars above, feeling a cocktail of frustration and helplessness.

  '?Maybe I should just go full demon. Would Doma take me in as a long-lost son? At least then I could just sleep until the internet is invented. Living as a broke, starving kid again... I’m gonna cry. I’m actually gonna cry.'