"What a peaceful day."
The early morning air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew-soaked grass and earth. The pale light of the sun stretched lazily across the ground, casting soft golden hues . The thick morning mist dulled the already pale glow of the sun. The trees stood still, their leaves damp and glistening under the morning haze.
I would say pollution has gotten rid of this atmosphere, but I'm fairly sure you can see this scene in the modern world. Don't know what the big thing is with those guys dissing the modern era.
I was not a morning person; I had never been. In both my lives, I hated waking up in the morning with a burning passion. I once vowed to destroy the sun when I got older, but of course, that would never happen.
I mean, I could probably do it in this life.
'You should be more like your sister; look how early she wakes up'
Tch
The worst thing is, I knew she was right. Staying up until 3 AM and then waking up during noon wasn't exactly healthy.
So, I did. Instead of whining and dismissing her advice like a normal teenager, I heeded her advice for once and tried to sleep early and wake up earlier. It was hard at first, even without any stimulant like my mobile phone, my body refused to rest this early.
Eventually, I succeeded, going to sleep at 11 at night. But then I discovered another problem.
I hated morning.
Whenever I woke up, I felt like a zombie. The world around me kept spinning and my body refused to listen to me, making me fall down several times. Words were unbearable to hear and speaking became an impossible task for me.
And the worst thing is, I never adapted to it. No matter how many times I woke up early, I always ended up in that state.
Now that I'm a demon slayer, I have no choice but to stay awake all night and sleep during the day.
...
I miss them...
'No' I thought shaking those thoughts away 'not the time for these thoughts'
"I went through the extra effort to wake up early."
That was a lie, my body jolted awake a while ago. I had already planned on sleeping till lunchtime.
Right now, the estate of the Stone Hashira was empty besides me. Most Hashira had Kakushi who maintained their estate while they were away on missions or doing simple housekeeping, but some Hashira like Gyomei- and probably Giyuu as well- refused to keep any Kakushi.
"So I don't want this day to have a bad start."
Which meant that the only one supposed to be in the estate was me and me alone.
"So, whoever you are, come out right now..."
That's right, an intruder. My unnatural instincts forced my body awake the moment it noticed someone unknown sneak into the estate.
For a moment, nothing happened.
...
Then, the wind shifted slightly.
'Oh?' I thought as I lowered my head, a kick passing through that space a moment later 'No sound?'
The intruder was standing somewhere inside the roof of the house. For him to be able to not only traverse from the roof to the ground and launch an attack without making a sound indicated mastery and experience.
'An assassin?' I frowned as I parried one of the intruder's attacks without having to even stand up. This person is skilled, much more than I am. There's no pause between attacks besides the need for breathing, and the fluidity of the attacks was clear as well. Not only were the attacks adapting to my parries, but each blow connected one after the other as if it was second nature.
If I was not physically superior to this person, I would have been dead a long time ago.
'No, there's no bloodlust. Unless this guy has somehow mastered See Through World like I have- which isn't a probable outcome- then he's just attacking me for the fun of it-'
My thoughts were interrupted as a sharp pain spread through my jaw, making me roll back. I got up and massaged my aching jaw as I glared at the intruder who just looked down at me with his hand still outstretched.
I wiped my mouth, tasting copper. My jaw throbbed, a sharp ache settling beneath the skin.
The intruder straightened from his stance, his silhouette relaxed yet poised for action. His breathing was steady, not the slightest trace of strain despite the rapid exchange we just had.
'Definitely trained. Experienced.'
I studied him through See Through World. His muscles were taut but controlled—no unnecessary tension. His breathing pattern was steady, and his heart rate hadn't even spiked. This guy was calm, unnaturally so, especially for someone who had just tried to rearrange my jaw.
'He avoided my block?' I analyzed as I thought back to the attack. I had raised a hand to block one of the attacks, but this man, at the last second, completely avoided the block by weaving his hand to the side for a moment and then arching it back towards my jaw.
'That arch took away a considerable amount of force. Had I been hit by that at full force, my jaw would have been fractured or completely dislocated. Tch, just when I don't have my sword on me, I'm not proficient in hand-to-handcombat.'
"You're good," I murmured as I stood up.
"But you're not."
...
'He's a male,' I thought, ignoring his snide remark as my eyes saw his muscle structure and his internal organs with STW. 'And quite well endowed as well-'
'No, n,o' I thought, shaking away the dirty thoughts. 'The important thing is, this guy is human.'
That made sense in the end. Not only was it dawn right now, but this was the estate of one of the Hashira. Even Muzan Kibutsji and the Upper Moons wouldn't dare do something this risky while the sun is out, considering the security placed here.
It would only take a matter of minutes for every single Hashira to show up. There is no demon powerful enough to take on a dozen Hashira while the sun is up, so obviously, it couldn't have been a demon.
'Well, the Upper Moons might. Muzan is a coward, so he probably won't appear in a Hashira's estate even if it wasn'tmorning.'
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. "Not bad," I said, my voice low. "But you're not trying hard enough."
The intruder's head tilted slightly. A subtle shift in his stance—the slightest turn of his foot.
Then he moved.
'Fast.'
I twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike aimed at my temple. His hand cut through the air with precision, missing me by inches. I countered with a sharp elbow aimed at his side, but he slipped beneath the strike, his body flowing like water.
A fist shot toward my ribs.
I caught his wrist in mid-air and twisted, yanking him toward me—only for him to pivot mid-motion and slip free of my grip.
'He redirected the force—used my own momentum to escape.'
Before I could reset, he was already behind me.
Wham!
Pain exploded through my back as his foot drove into my shoulder blade. My body lurched forward, momentum carrying me into the dirt.
I rolled, flipping to my feet and sliding back into a defensive stance. My breathing hitched for a moment as my muscles adjusted to the strain.
'Amazing.' A thought appeared in my mind despite the dull ache in my back 'That skill, it exceeds anyone I've ever seen. Even the likes of Itsuki and Kaede are no match for this guy'
Of course that was excluding the Hashira, but that wasn't a fair comparison considering I had never actually seen them fight. For all I know, this guy could be just as good as them.
Without wasting a moment, I rushed at the intruder. The moment I tensed, I saw his leg and abdominal muscles move. Too bad for him, as I could determine exactly where he would place himself.
He was wearing a mask, but I imagine he had a look of surprise as I changed my directions mid-rush and slammed straight into his chest.
CRASH!
Wood splintered as his back smashed through the outer wall of the estate, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the early morning air. He tumbled through the broken wall, disappearing into the treeline beyond.
"Tch," I clicked my tongue as I gazed at the destruction in front of me "What a monster"
When I slammed into him, for a moment I saw his legs adjust at the last moment and launched himself backward, reducing the impact from my slam.
I took a deep breath, feeling the slight sting in my shoulder from the collision. My gaze followed the path of destruction until I caught sight of the intruder's figure stirring amidst the wreckage of broken branches and scattered leaves.
He rose slowly, his movements fluid and unhurried. With a measured hand, he adjusted his mask and brushed off stray splinters from his uniform.
"Not good, huh?" I mocked the intruder, who got up as I leisurely strud up to him. "Then what does that make you? Terrible?"
And then he blinked.
The time it takes for a human to blink is around 150 milliseconds.
The time it takes me to attack him is less than half of that.
Without waiting for a response, I disappeared from the intruder's view, my feet barely making a sound as I surged forward. My body moved with practiced ease, cutting through the air like a blade as I closed the distance between us in a blink. My elbow shot forward, aimed directly at the side of his head—a clean, decisive strike meant to end this quickly.
But then, at the last possible moment, his body reacted.
His abdominal muscles tensed, his core shifting as he twisted his body to the side with an unnatural fluidity. His movements lacked the raw speed to match mine, but the sheer precision of his timing was enough to negate my advantage. The instant my elbow grazed the air where his head had been, he leaned back just far enough to avoid the strike, his body adjusting mid-motion like he had been prepared for it all along.
'How—?'
Before I could follow up, his twist didn't stop at just an evasive maneuver. He redirected the momentum from his abdomen into his legs, his hips pivoting sharply. His foot shot out in a vicious spinning kick aimed at my side, the torque from his rotation adding brutal speed and force behind the strike.
My instincts screamed at me, and I barely managed to raise my arm in time to block. His foot slammed into my forearm with enough strength to send a sharp tremor through my bones, the impact driving my arm toward my face. My muscles strained as I fought to hold my ground, the sheer power behind his kick leaving a dull ache spreading through my arm.
'That kick… if I had taken that directly, my ribs would've been shattered.'
I forced my muscles to tighten, halting my arm's backward motion just before it could strike my own face. With a sharp breath, I twisted my grip and latched onto his leg. My fingers tightened like a vice around his ankle as I redirected his momentum. Before he could recover, I lifted his entire body off the ground and slammed him down with enough force to leave cracks in the earth beneath us.
He coughed sharply, but even then, his body was already shifting, his muscles tense beneath my grip. His reflexes were razor-sharp, his composure barely shaken.
I exhaled, my eyes narrowing. He's skilled… really skilled.
*Thud*
"Gah!"
THUD!
A sharp gust of air exploded outward as the intruder's back slammed into the earth, sending cracks through the ground beneath him. His body jerked slightly from the impact, but his expression—what little I could see beneath the mask—remained calm.
I didn't let go of his leg. My grip tightened as I twisted his ankle and raised him into the air once more—
Too late.
His free leg shot upward.
THWACK!
My head snapped back as the heel of his foot connected cleanly with my chin.
I staggered a step, the taste of iron flooding my mouth. My grip loosened for a split second—
The intruder twisted mid-air, wrenching his leg free. He flipped backward, landing on his feet in a low crouch.
"Terrible, huh?" he repeated, his voice a calm echo of my earlier taunt. "Then what does that make you?"
I spat blood to the side. "Smug for someone who just got slammed into the dirt."
His stance shifted. His body leaned slightly forward, his fingers curling toward his palms.
'He's adjusting his guard.'
My legs tensed. "Alright, let's see how long that attitude lasts."
I launched toward him in a burst of speed. This time, I aimed low, driving toward his ribs with a palm strike.
The intruder's body pivoted, his hand brushing my wrist aside just enough to divert the blow—
'Too shallow.'
I twisted my hips, shifting momentum into a knee strike toward his exposed side.
and then his arm dropped—
CLAP!
He caught my knee with both hands, absorbing the force like a stone wall.
I snarled. My muscles tensed—
Wrong move.
His hands tightened around my knee. With a sharp pivot of his body—
WHOOSH!
I was airborne.
My back hit the ground hard enough to rattle my teeth. My vision blurred for half a second—
And then he was above me.
A palm strike shot down toward my chest—
CLANG!
I raised both forearms in time to block the blow, the impact ringing through my bones.
For a moment, we were locked there, his hand pressed against my guard, the ground beneath me cracking under the pressure.
"You're relying too much on power," He said evenly. "Your technique is sloppy."
"You fight like a demon."
I stilled as I heard that remark. The memory of the last two demons I killed before surfaced in my memory, each one of them saying the same thing.
'You would make a gooddemon.'
"Don't..."
"Huh?"
My voice turned serious as I looked up at the intruder, taking a tone that would need me to hear my voice twice before confirming that it truly was my voice.
"Don't say that ever again"
One moment the intruder was on top of me, his arms trying to go through my guard while I was stuck on the ground.
The next moment, he was high up in the air.
'Wha-'
The first thing he noticed was the view of the forest. High up in the air, he could see the forest stretching on for miles.
The second thing he noticed was the unbearable pain.
I had kicked him with my full force while I was on the ground. A blow that even the Hashira wouldn't even think of taking head on was unleashed full power at this man's abdomen, launching him into the sky like a rocket.
For a moment, nothing happened.
And then gravity took hold.
The intruder's body arced downward, and with a deafening BOOM, he crashed through the canopy and slammed into the ground, skidding across the dirt in a spray of soil and broken leaves.
A deep trench carved itself into the earth where he landed.
I walked up to the trench, and I looked down. The man was lying down, clutching the exact spot where I had kicked him as his body twitched uncontrollably.
"We're stopping here," I said as I calmed down from my momentary rage. "I do not want to kill a human."
The man coughed, a thin line of blood trailing down from beneath his mask. His hand pressed weakly against his abdomen, trembling from the shock of the impact. Despite the pain twisting his body, his breathing remained steady.
"...Stopping?" his voice rasped. "That's cute."
I narrowed my eyes. "I'm serious."
The intruder's fingers twitched. Slowly, he forced himself to sit up, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath.
"You think you have the luxury of stopping?"
I frowned. "What are you talking about?"
He pulled himself to his feet with a grunt, swaying slightly before squaring his stance. His hand brushed across the cracked edge of his mask.
"No demon will ever stop because you feel like it," he said quietly. "If you hold back—if you hesitate—you're dead."
My jaw tightened. "I'm not going to kill a human."
"Then you'll die by one," he replied flatly.
His muscles tensed. A thin crack of air split the silence as his foot shifted forward.
'He's serious?'
"I'm not entertaining this any longer," I said as I tensed myself for the attack I was about to face.
*thud*
Only for the intruder to fall face first, his injuries too much for his body to handle, forcing him into unconsciousness.
I stared at his unmoving form, my muscles still tense. His hand twitched slightly, but he didn't rise. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.
"Seriously?" I muttered.
I relaxed my stance and walked over to him, crouching down beside his body. His mask was cracked down the middle from the impact, but it still clung stubbornly to his face.
This guy…
I sighed and grabbed his wrist, feeling for a pulse. Faint, but steady. His body was shaking from the stress of the fight, but he was alive.
I shook my head. "You overestimated yourself."
My hand hovered over the edge of his mask.
I could pull it off right now. Figure out who exactly this guy is and why he attacked me.
But…
I pulled my hand back.
"Not today," I murmured.
Instead, I stood and looked toward the estate. I'd need to drag him back there before someone—like Gyomei—returned and assumed the worst.
"I suppose this makes me the winner, huh?" I said to the unconscious body.
I bent down and grabbed him by the arm, slinging it over my shoulder. His weight was heavier than I expected, even for someone his size. His body was well-trained—lean muscle without excess bulk.
Who the hell are you?
With a grunt, I hoisted him up and started walking toward the estate.
"For someone who just lectured me about hesitation," I said as I adjusted his weight, "you sure gave up pretty quick."
He didn't respond. Obviously.
I sighed and kept walking.
...
...
...
"I never expected you to be able to defeat him."
Himejima-Sensei sat in front of me, along with the masked intruder.
The masked intruder, as it turned out, was supposed to be my teacher for martial arts.
"You're saying this guy is supposed to teach me?" I asked, my eyes narrowing at the masked man sitting across from me. His arms were crossed, his posture relaxed, even though I had practically caved his chest in not too long ago.
Himejima-Sensei gave a calm nod. "Indeed."
The masked man remained silent, but I could feel his gaze boring into me from behind the mask. Even now, there was an intensity in the way he sat—a tension in his muscles like he was prepared to strike at any moment.
"He's...pretty young, isn't he?" I said as I scanned his body. "I thought a master of martial arts would be an old man with a big beard."
"HAH." The man in front of me let out a large scoff. "That's the first time I've ever heard of such a unique description for a martial artist."
I had no idea whether this man was being serious or making fun of me. From what I know, movies were introduced to Japan around the 1800s, so the chances of a prejudice against a master martial artist being present were decently high.
"My name's Kenzo Itsushi," He said as he removed his mask.
My eyes immediately studied his face.
Kenzo Itsushi was… younger than I expected. Early twenties, maybe. His dark brown hair was slightly messy, strands falling over his sharp, narrow eyes. His jawline was clean and sharp, giving him a severe expression even when he wasn't trying. A thin scar ran from the corner of his left eye down toward his cheekbone, barely noticeable unless you were looking closely.
His eyes—dark, piercing—held the same intensity I'd felt during the fight. Controlled. Calculating. Like he was always two steps ahead of everyone else in the room.
I clicked my tongue. "Why does everyone I've met look so good? You guys really aren't helping me with my self-confidence, you know?"
Kenzo raised an eyebrow, the barest hint of amusement flickering across his face.
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" he asked.
"Take it however you want," I replied with a shrug. I'm just saying it's kind of unfair. Not everyone is blessed by the gods in both skill and looks."
"I could say the same," Kenzo chimed in. "It looks like the gods blessed you in the skills department by a huge margin."
"Right, enough of this gay stuff," I said as my playful tone vanished. "You're strong, overwhelmingly strong. And your skills, your movements, your fluidity, it far exceeds mine, and the way you breathe tells me you've already mastered Total Concentration Constant. So, my question is...
Why is someone like you not fighting demons?"
Kenzo's expression remained the same. His gaze remained steady, and his dark eyes glinted in the dim morning light.
"Does it matter?" he replied calmly.
"Of course it matters," I said, stepping closer. "People die out there. Demons tear through villages, ruin families, and yet here you are—wasting all that strength on sparring with rookies like me?"
Kenzo's jaw tightened, the first crack in his otherwise emotionless mask. "You think you understand everything just because you've fought a few demons?"
I narrowed my eyes. "I understand enough. Enough to know that if you're this strong, you should be out there helping. So why aren't you?"
Kenzo's expression remained the same. His gaze remained steady, and his dark eyes glinted in the dim morning light.
"Does it matter?" he replied calmly.
"Of course it matters," I said, stepping closer. "People die out there. Demons tear through villages, ruin families, and yet here you are—wasting all that strength on sparring with rookies like me?"
Kenzo's jaw tightened, the first crack in his otherwise emotionless mask. "You think you understand everything just because you've fought a few demons?"
Interesting.
I narrowed my eyes. "I understand enough. Enough to know that if you're this strong, you should be out there helping. So why aren't you?"
...
Nothing.
Pure silence.
We all just sat there in awkward silence.
"It can't be because you're not a swordsman," I continued. "I'm getting shin guards and gauntlets made for me, and I'm sure someone like you would have a personal blacksmith as well, so why are you sitting here while people outside are dying?"
"First of all," Kenzo said, his gaze hardening. "Don't pretend like you care. I've met plenty of people like you—people who act like they care about human lives but are really in it for selfish reasons."
His words cut through the air with surgical precision.
I felt my muscles tense involuntarily, a sharp twinge running through my chest. I didn't know why that hit so hard.
Kenzo's eyes narrowed as he continued, completely unfazed by my reaction. "From what I've heard, none of your loved ones have been killed or crippled by demons. And you're certainly no saint. That means you lack any real motivation to hunt demons."
I bit the inside of my cheek. My gaze sharpened, but Kenzo didn't back down. His tone was steady—calm, but cutting.
"I talked to both of your teachers," he continued, voice as smooth as stone. "They both described an unusual drive in you—a willingness to push yourself to the brink of death against stronger enemies just to scrape together a little more strength."
His gaze sharpened. "From that, I can deduce one thing: You didn't join the Slayer Corps to protect others. You joined to get stronger."
The air felt heavier.
"It's not a bad goal," Kenzo admitted, though his eyes darkened as he leaned forward slightly. "But it is dangerous. Why do you crave so much strength? Is it to harm someone? To get revenge? To satisfy some twisted sense of purpose?"
My hands curled into fists at my sides. My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Kenzo's gaze didn't waver. "The Slayer Corps doesn't ask why you want to become stronger, do they?" His tone sharpened. "So, why don't you return the favor and stop asking me for my reasons?"
I swallowed hard. A million things crossed my mind—retorts, excuses, explanations—but none of them felt right. None of them would make sense without revealing my secret. And it wasn't time for that. Not yet.
So I forced myself to breathe. Forced myself to swallow my pride. And closed my mouth.
Kenzo's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he sighed, the sharpness in his expression dulling just slightly.
"...Maybe I'll tell you one day," he said, standing up and dusting off his haori. "But for now, we'll start your training tomorrow morning."
Without another word, Kenzo turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps light but deliberate as he exited the room.
The door slid shut behind him with a quiet click, leaving just Gyomei and me in the now strangely quiet room.
"You didn't retort?" Gyomei's deep voice rumbled through the space, steady and calm as always.
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck as I stared at the floor. "He's not wrong."
Gyomei's brow furrowed slightly, though his expression remained unreadable.
Though… that wasn't the only reason.
"He was angry when he said that"
"Angry?" Gyomei replied in confusion.
My thoughts drifted back to when I was still in school.
There was a girl—a close friend. The kind of person you could count on without question. She was patient, kind, and understanding. She was the one person who always stood by my side, even when I didn't deserve it.
My first friend, to this date I still remember her face and name as clear as crystal.
But one day… I snapped.
I don't even remember why. Stress? Pressure? Maybe I was just overwhelmed and looking for someone to blame. But instead of dealing with it like a rational person, I lashed out at her. My words were sharp and cutting, laced with bitterness I didn't even realize I was holding in.
"You're always trying to fix everything! Maybe if you'd stop being so clingy, people wouldn't leave you!"
I didn't even know where those words came from. But the second they left my mouth, I knew I couldn't take them back.
Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. Her expression shifted from confusion to hurt… and then to something colder.
Without a word, she turned and walked away.
She never looked at me the same way again.
I never even got the chance to apologize. The next day, she avoided me completely. And the day after that. And the one after that. Until eventually, she wasn't a part of my life anymore.
I could have chased after her. I could have explained myself. But I didn't. My pride wouldn't let me.
And the worst part was—I knew I had no right to be angry at her for walking away. After all, I was the one who broke things. I was the one who pushed her away.
From that moment, I vowed never to let anger take hold of me again. Never to lash out at someone in the heat of rage. Never to let my emotions dictate my actions. And more than that, I promised to never judge others when they were blinded by their own anger. Because I knew how easy it was to lose control. How easy it was to ruin something precious with just a few careless words.
And I didn't want to ruin anything else anymore.
But sometimes, that restraint felt like a chain wrapped around my chest. Tight. Suffocating.
Because holding back doesn't make the anger disappear. It just buries it deeper. And some days, I could feel it clawing at the surface, desperate to be let out.
'This isn't how stories go…' I thought bitterly, clenching my fists. 'Isn't the person with a power like this supposed to become overpowered and have women fall for them left and right? Why is it so hard for me?'
I wasn't asking for much, was I? Just a little recognition. A little admiration. Maybe someone who'd look at me the way those heroines in stories look at the protagonist—the kind of gaze that says you're incredible without needing words.
But no.
Instead of praise, I got skepticism. Instead of admiration, I got wary glances. Even the people who acknowledged my strength didn't trust it. Like they were waiting for me to slip up. Waiting for me to lose control.
And women? Forget it. I could barely get anyone to look at me, let alone see me as anything more than a weapon. Something useful. Not someone worth knowing.
'What's the point of having strength if no one actually cares?'
But maybe that was the problem. Maybe it was because they knew I had strength that they kept their distance. Strength isolates people. It makes them wary. It makes them afraid.
And deep down… I think I understand why. Because I wasn't the hero of some story. I wasn't righteous or noble. I wasn't kind or compassionate. I wanted strength for myself, for reasons I wasn't ready to admit to anyone—not even myself.
And maybe… that's why no one wanted to stand too close.
"Though…" I hesitated for a moment before slowly exhaling. "My goal for gaining strength… I can't tell you that. Not yet, anyway."
Gyomei remained silent, his blind eyes tilted slightly downward as though he were listening not just to my words but to the space between them.
I never intended to keep my abilities and I don't intend on doing so either. But not yet, until I am sure I can stand at the peak of this world, not a single word is leaving my mouth.
'More secrets...'
"Maybe," I muttered, getting up "I should meet up with Itsuki and the others?"
...
"Maybe," I muttered, getting up. "I should meet up with Itsuki and the others?"
…
No.
Not yet. Not until I had received my Nichirin weapons.
I'd hate to interfere in their missions and end up breaking their swords. Unlike me, they didn't have personal blacksmiths. If their swords shattered, it would take weeks—maybe months—for them to get replacements.
And in that time, they'd be vulnerable. Defenseless.
I didn't want to be the reason they were forced to sit on the sidelines, watching helplessly as others fought in their place. I didn't want to see resentment in their eyes.
I didn't want them to hate me as well.
It was better this way. Better to stay distant until I could stand on my own, until I had the strength to protect them without becoming a burden.
Better to be alone than to risk losing what little connection I had left.
...
"Fucking K-drama bullshit" I sighed as my form blurred, dissapearing from the room.
...
...
...
Hellooo
It's me, author.
So, I was re-reading my chapters, and I realized I haven't given much depth to Aoyama.
Okay, maybe not bland, but seriously, Aoyama is just a generic main character, isn't he? Didn't do well in the real world, had no friends, and then BAM, truck-kun and now an OP ability.
We've all read our fair share of trash fanfictions with the same character right? The only difference is that, somehow, the MC has a complete overhaul the moment he is in another world.
Somehow becoming fearless, constantly flirting with girls despite not being able to even place an order at the counter? It's fucking stupid.
So, I decided to be a bit more realistic. I need y'all to tell me if maybe I got TOO emotional so I can tone it down in later chapters.
K bye.