Henry Jekyll stood amidst the grey drifts of soot, his face a mask of weary innocence. He looked up at the towering Stone Hashira, his voice steady but hollowed by the morning's grief.
"I do not know," Henry replied, his Japanese flawlessly polite. "I arrived to find the village as you see it. I am a physician, sir. I came to heal, but I found only ghosts. As for the monsters... the sun took them. They were broken, pinned to the earth by the wreckage of the houses they destroyed, and when the light touched them, they simply... vanished into smoke."
Gyomei Himejima stood perfectly still. His heightened senses felt the shift in the air—the boy's heartbeat was calm, yet the "shadow" Gyomei had sensed earlier pulsed with a rhythmic, hidden violence. He was not entirely convinced; the wreckage looked less like the result of a collapsing building and more like the work of a physical force that had systematically dismantled the demons. Yet, looking at the youth's slight, fifteen-year-old frame and his tear-stained face, Gyomei did not press further. There was no scent of Muzan's blood on the boy, only the scent of Western chemicals and deep sorrow.
"I see," Gyomei rumbled, his prayer beads clicking softly. "A tragedy beyond measure. To survive such a night is a burden of its own."
Henry took a breath, trying to regain his composure as a gentleman. "Forgive my lack of manners. My name is Henry Jekyll. I am a doctor from the cottage in the woods. I have spent the last six months treating the people of this valley. They... they were my friends. They trusted me."
The giant man bowed his head slightly. "I am Gyomei Himejima. I am a member of the Demon Slayer Corps. I was dispatched to this location to purge the threat that has been terrorizing these mountains, but it seems I have arrived too late to save the living, even if the threat is gone."
"Demon Slayer?" Henry repeated, the word tasting strange on his tongue. "And you called those... those scums... demons?"
"They are creatures of the night," Gyomei explained, his voice like grinding stone. "They devour the flesh of humans to sustain their twisted lives and possess strength far beyond any mortal man. Our Corps exists for one purpose: to hunt them until the last of their kind is returned to the earth."
Henry looked back at the piles of ash. He recalled the mocking laughter of the monsters, the way they had called his friends "cattle," and the sheer, mindless cruelty of their feast. Then, he pictured the faces of the villagers—the baker who gave him extra rice, the mother whose child he had cured of a fever.
A new resolve took root in Henry's heart. He was a man of science, a man who had been given a second chance by the Almighty. If his "test" was to find a way to atone for the darkness of Edward Hyde, then perhaps the answer lay in protecting the light of others.
"Mr. Himejima," Henry said, his voice regaining its cultured strength. "I have spent my lives trying to preserve life. But last night showed me that medicine is not enough when the illness is a monster that seeks only to destroy. I cannot return to my cottage and wait for this to happen to another village."
He stepped forward, looking up at the sightless Hashira with burning intensity.
"Take me with you. If there is a way to fight these demons—to ensure no other physician has to stand among the ashes of his patients—then I wish to learn it. I wish to join your Corps."
Gyomei felt the shift in the boy's spirit. The "light" of the healer was now tempered by a cold, iron-like determination.
"The path of a Slayer is one of blood and silver, young Jekyll," Gyomei warned. "It is a life of constant shadow."
"I am no stranger to the shadow," Henry replied solemnly. "Please. Teach me how to stop them."
******
Henry Jekyll was brought to the hidden headquarters of the Demon Slayer Corps, a place of serene beauty that felt worlds away from the charred remains of his village. As a man of science, Henry did not merely practice the basic breathing exercises; he dissected them. He observed the rhythmic expansion of the lungs, the oxygenation of the blood, and the way the internal pressure could be manipulated to grant a human the strength of a beast.
"It is a biological marvel," Henry mused, scribbling notes in a small leather-bound journal. "A systematic overclocking of the human cardiovascular system."
After several weeks of mastery over the fundamentals, the Stone Hashira, Gyomei Himejima, approached him. "You have the discipline, Henry. Now, you must find a master to teach you an established style—Water, Flame, or perhaps Stone. One does not simply invent a path through the darkness."
But Henry's curiosity was a restless thing. That evening, standing in the courtyard of a small wooden outbuilding, he began to analyze the core principles he had seen. He thought of the light of the Creator, the warmth of the sun that had turned the "scums" to ash, and the pure, kinetic energy of life itself.
"Total Concentration," Henry whispered, closing his eyes.
He didn't follow the flowing path of Water or the rigid stance of Stone. Instead, he reached for the most primal source. He visualized the celestial fire that fueled the world. As he took a deep, experimental breath, his internal temperature skyrocketed.
A sudden, violent roar of heat erupted from his lungs. Without meaning to, Henry unleashed a surge of pure, golden solar energy. The friction and the sheer intensity of the "Sun Breathing" he had inadvertently tapped into caused the dry wood of the porch to ignite instantly. Within seconds, the small house was engulfed in brilliant, searing flames.
"Good heavens!" Henry gasped, stumbling back, his British composure momentarily shattered by the literal firestorm he had created.
The commotion brought the leaders of the Corps running. Kagaya Ubuyashiki, the Master of the Mansion, was led forward by his daughters. Beside him, Gyomei stood like a mountain, his sightless eyes "watching" the heat.
"Namu Amida Butsu..." Gyomei murmured, his large hands trembling slightly. "I felt it. A heat so pure... it was as if the sun itself descended into this courtyard."
Ubuyashiki, sensing the panicked heartbeat of the boy and the crackle of the fire, let out a soft, melodic chuckle. "It seems our young doctor has a very bright spirit indeed."
"Master! You are too kind!" a harsh, jagged voice barked.
Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira, stomped into the light of the fire, his scarred face twisted in a scowl. He pointed a finger at Jekyll, who was currently trying to swat out a stray ember on his kimono. "You brat! You nearly burned down the Master's residence with your clumsy meddling! Do you think this is a laboratory for your little Western games?"
Henry bowed deeply, his face flushed with embarrassment. "I offer my sincerest apologies, sir. It was... an unforeseen chemical reaction of the breath."
From the shadows, a gentle, lighthearted laugh drifted toward them. Kanae Kocho, the Flower Hashira, stepped forward with a graceful smile, her butterfly-patterned haori fluttering. "Oh, let him be, Sanemi. It isn't every day we see a boy try to learn a style and accidentally summon the dawn. It was quite a spectacular display, don't you think?"
Ubuyashiki smiled, his blind eyes turned toward Henry. "Do not be discouraged, Henry Jekyll. You have touched upon a flame that has been lost to us for a long time. It seems your 'test' involves a fire that even you did not expect to carry."
Henry looked at his hands, which were still humming with a faint, residual warmth. Deep within him, he felt Hyde stirring, not with malice, but with a predatory interest in the power Henry had just tasted.