Demon slayer: What if (Season one: The rising sun) (Being rewritten!!!!)

Prologue

Narrater POV

Dreams.

What are they?

Nobody knows what they truly are.

Could they just be an image of the mind, or is there a deeper meaning to them?

They could be a place of tranquility, a place of peace, the place that a tortured soul longs and wishes for.

They could be a vision of horror, a vision of dread, something that a person that has everything but fears losing it all sees.

They could be the memories from the past, a glimpse of joy and laughter that some have when they take their last, living breath.

They could be scenes from a past life. A scene that defines your very nature so much that they refuse to be forgotten, even after the cycle of rebirth.

They could be the memories of your ancestors, a memory so deeply ingrained into their heads that they get passed on. And even after countless passings, they still remain, buried deep within your very soul, waiting for the right moment to come out.

Tanjiro POV

Seven years old

I don't know how it happened.

I don't know what happened.

I don't know why it happened.

I didn't know it could happen.

On my seventh birthday, the scar that I had gotten from protecting my brother grew into something that looked like a birthmark. A red zigzagging flame.

My original birthmark lay on top of the zigzagging flame. A small circle, about the size of my haori's button, white in the center and fading into light yellow on the outer sides. Four orange triangles surrounded the circle, making it look like a sun shining its light and flames onto the land.

I also somehow lost all emotions that day, I could still feel and express them just fine, but I wanted to be emotionless for some odd reason.

I would also keep on having the same dream night after night. About a man with red hair and red eyes in a red kimono, holding a katana as black as coal. There was a flame-like scar on his left forehead, just like mine.

After a few minutes, the man would start dancing, a dance so beautiful that it would make him look more like a spirit than a human.

But that dance was something I was quite familiar with. It was the same dance that my father did every new year.

Eight years old

On the night after my eighth birthday, the man in my dream finally spoke.

"So. You are his child."

"Who are you?" I wanted to ask, but my lips couldn't make any sound. That's when I noticed the bright red flames, they covered my whole body only leaving the upper part of my face.

"I'm sorry for the path that I laid before you. But you need to prepare." He said, the amount of sorrow and regret on his face made me want to cry, but then his face morphed into the same expressionless face that I always saw in my dreams. "Go to the highest peak on this mountain. There you will find the keys. Go now! You don't have much time, be for he shows up. But be careful, don't let your family know about this, Or the danger they will face will be too much for anyone to handle." He shouted and I awoke with a jolt.

I stared at my hands for a few moments, before quietly getting out of bed, putting on my clothes, and heading for the highest peak of this mountain.

When I got there, I saw a beautiful cave. Vines and moss covered the walls, flowers grew on a small island in the center of a small pond, as the moonlight seeped through a hole in the ceiling of the cave, the water shimmered with a faint, silver light. A bridge linked the island and shore. And in the middle of the island of flowers, a wooden pedestal stood, holding a very small book and the same black blade from my dreams.

I walked over the bridge, taking in the natural beauty of the water below. When I got to the island, I unsheathed the katana, but it was already tarnished. I then felt the book with my small hands and then opened it, reading through the contents.

The book didn't have much, it was a small book after all, about the size of my hand. It spoke of a way to breath, to master one's movements, to be more efficient in every way.

On that day, I decided to learn this breathing style in secret from my parents and siblings, to protect my family from the man he spoke of.

Nine years old

It had been more than one year since I started to learn, I had hidden my book and blade in a hidden cave that no one but me knows about.

Every day had been torture.

I would do everything the book said about training my body, running up and down the mountain for hours on end, meditating in the coldest river falls, sneaking out at night to practice, and mastering something called total concentration constant, which meant doing the breathing style from sunrise to sunset.

But the hardest by far was keeping everything a secret from my family, I was raised to be honest, so I'm no good at lying, and besides, why would I want to keep something from my family anyway?

But it was still for their safety, I didn't want them to suffer. To feel this nervousness in my heart, about a man that will come for my family.

Ten Years old

It had been over two years since I started to train, I'm going to have to tell my family about my abnormal activities very soon.

I had managed to learn the basics of the breath styles, but without a proper teacher, I couldn't do much, so I still had a lot more work to do.

I also found out by doing my family dance with the breathing style, somehow, flames would generate.

But one thing that I noticed, was that my mark was getting bigger, and my emotions were also getting duller with each passing day.

Eleven Years old

It had gotten a lot harder to sneak behind my parents' backs since I now had four siblings and another one on the way.

But thanks to my training by walking on dry leaves to make me more silent to sneak up on demons, it wasn't impossible.

By now, I learned how to completely lock up my emotions, to me, they were a hindrance, something that kept me from my full strenth. But I still kept up a cheerful smile for my family, to make sure they won't worry.

Twelve Years old

It now became impossible to sneak behind my parents' backs and train, five siblings and taking care of my sick father took up most of my time, I usually worked until three in the morning.

I wasn't complaining though, I liked to help my family.

But that warning, the one that the man gave me when I was seven.

"Go now! You don't have much time, be for he shows up. But be careful, don't let your family know about this, Or the danger they will face will be too much for anyone to handle."

That one line still haunts me.

Aaaaaaannnnnd done! What do you think? Not too bad I hope. Anyways please like, share, comment, and follow. I love you all!