Poppies were a symbol that always stood for you and Tanjiro's closeness ever since you were little. The older you grew, the closer became, the more poppies you'd bring to decorate his kitchen table.
Tanjiro always said how they smelled happy and sw...
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Your POV
I always felt jealousy towards those with bad eyes. All my life, my eyesight had been better than others. It was so sharp and clear to the point where I could even pinpoint auras and see body heat through walls like some snake.
It came in handy in many situations, but in that particular one, it caused my heart to sink to my feet. As my stroll home inched closer to an end, none of my family's auras or body heat came into view.
I gasped, a sharp breath stabbing my lungs. My legs moved before I could think. The snow, so pleasant and feeble, was now stained red in my family's blood.
"NO!"
A bloodcurdling scream left my lips as I scurried over to the lifeless bodies of my cherished family.
Who would do this? They were innocent. They had done nothing to deserve such treatment.
So why?
Why were they left to rot in the snow?
"Yuki!" I yelled, the infrared radiation of my younger brother's body heat was colored in a pink hue, signaling his critical state.
"M..o..m. Y-you..nee..d to c..he..ck..on..mo..m," the boy choked out, blood rushing from his mouth.
As I peered at the wall, the heat from her body appeared at a green-blue.
She must've been freezing.
My ears almost started to bleed as my mother's tender voice screamed in horror. I sprinted inside, my heart racing to the point where it felt like it had stopped.
My eyes looked around the corner, the walls covered in blood, decorated with clawing hand prints. My mother's eyes were bloodshot in panic as she clawed at her neck.
"Ki..but..suji-"
Her skin faded into a dark purple, bubbling and boiling as her screams increased in volume.
"MOM!" I yelled, but I was forced to step back as blood poured from her mouth.
I looked around for any weapons I could find to put her out of her misery.
My brother pushed himself into the kitchen on his hands and knees, creating a trail of blood.
"Da..d's..ka..ta..na..." he mumbled, pointing to my father's sword that lay innocently on the table.
