Hyakkimaru entered the world amidst the Sengoku period’s chaos as the disfigured firstborn of a warlord who bartered his newborn’s body parts to demons for dominion. Devoid of limbs, skin, eyes, ears, or organs, he was cast aside but salvaged by the prostheticsmith Jukai, who constructed replacements from wood and clay. These artificial limbs concealed blades and heightened senses, enabling survival and demon combat under Jukai’s tutelage. Named and trained, Hyakkimaru embarked on a bloodstained pilgrimage to slaughter demons and reclaim his stolen flesh. Born without senses or voice, he navigated existence through instinctual curiosity, his early interactions tinged with guilelessness. He defied Dororo’s insistence to attack Kanekozou—a benign spirit—revealing an innate moral compass. Bonds with figures like Mio, a gentle caretaker of war orphans, kindled dormant emotions. Her slaughter alongside the children ignited his first wrathful rampage, exposing the volatile duality of his nature: fragility clashing with ferocity. Dororo, the streetwise orphan accompanying him, shifted from opportunistic tagalong to indispensable anchor. Their camaraderie thawed Hyakkimaru’s detachment, though trauma or separation could resurrect his icy pragmatism. Learning of his father’s sacrifice—which damned the land to famine and strife—fueled his vengeance, pitting him against his brother Tahomaru. Their clashes turned lethal, with Tahomaru’s demise sowing seeds of remorse in certain retellings, while others framed it as an inevitable consequence of paternal manipulation. Each reclaimed organ altered him: restored hearing flooded him with disorienting noise; regained sight forced witness to human savagery. Prosthetics transitioned from weaponized machinery to organic limbs as he inched toward humanity. A recovered voice granted halting speech, yet silence often lingered. Original iterations portrayed him as resolute and articulate, embracing his hybrid existence while aiding others. The 2019 revision darkened his arc, nearly eroding his soul to nihilism before his mother’s unconditional maternal embrace reignited his compassion, sparing his father despite years of vengeful intent. Endings diverged—some left him wandering eternally; others hinted at a tranquil reunion with an adult Dororo, his body and spirit finally whole. His tale wove themes of ostracization and terror directed at his grotesque form, juxtaposing physical restoration against ethical ambiguities. Adaptations varied: the 1969 anime offered episodic closure, while modern takes plunged into psychological fractures and fragile familial bonds, framing his odyssey as a quest for completeness through bonds and ethical reckoning.