Chapter Text
The flames licked at the bottom of the shrine home; the sting of the fire scorning the skins of those cornered. The clock had not even struck 3am when the home suddenly was swallowed by heat and sins demanding repayment for their sorrow. Prayers, screams, and blistering cries fell upon deaf ears as the flooring caved, 5 bodies cowering. Separately, a soul scrambled and struggled to inhale the burning smoke. This brilliant soul was granted release from deaths grasp and managed to tumble past the flames that crowded the front entrance, only to fade into a deep sleep. The house was swallowed; crumbling middle first and demolishing the memories and bodies of those still within the shrine walls.
It was the night of the full moon.
Despite the shrine home being surrounded by trees of different nature, nothing other than the fragile walls, and that inside, perished.
When the sun rose and the birds begun their gentle lullabies, a soul returned. Bearing the Red Sun within his eyes, the soul screamed and cursed. Wailed and drowned in guilt.
With nothing but the lucky soul that escaped deaths curling fingers strapped to his back, the Red Sun strode to the healers with a drowning soul forever changed.
Three years had passed since that fateful day, Kamado Tanjiro since then taking care of the shrine grounds left surrounding the ashes of his burned home.
Tanjiro had taken up a job at his local dojo, his master being none other than a well statured female bearing the name Kikyo. Upon finding Tanjiro crawling around town in search of work at every corner store nearby, she had taken the boy in and begun training him. Martial Arts was her specialty, and she made sure to work the high schooler's body to it's breaking point nearly every day. He was a senior in High School at this time and had gained enough respect from his master to begin training the younger customers after his graduation.
The job, while not the best paying, had supplied the red head with enough funds to support his sister and the makeshift home they had been slowly building on the shrine land.
And, on top of that? Tanjiro enjoyed breaking a sweat- working hard to achieve gentle praise from his master. His sister, despite not vocally expressing it, had signed to him one night that she felt proud knowing he was training to better protect them both.
Nezuko was the only survivor of the shrine fire, found rolled just outside of the main entrance and unresponsive. Tanjiro constantly thanked his lucky stars that she was able to be resuscitated but drowned in burning guilt nearly every night when remembering there were 5 other bodies buried and charred.
When left to his own devices, the eldest brother of what was once 6 children, often felt the air struggle to reach his lungs. Guilt was a disgusting but deserving emotion that crashed his body when alone, quaking him to his very core more often than not.
“Nezuko, can you bring those to me?” He called, forcibly shaking his head clear of his previous thoughts.
His sister, now 18 years old and filling out nicely, perked up at her brothers’ beckon. She parted her lips, but no noise was emitted. It had been that way since she was found half dead; throat blacked from the smoke and lungs struggling to play catch up.
She, after being revived, was told she would never be able to speak again. Tanjiro had never seen her look so devastated.
Both had worked hard to learn sign language after that, needing there to be no existing barrier between the two of them.
He missed her voice. More than anything, he missed her voice. She always carried a gentle tone, engulfing anyone she was directly talking to with unwavering calm. It reminded Tanjiro of their mother, who must have passed that trait down to the eldest sister before passing away so tragically.
“Thank you, Nezuko,” He praised, taking the bucket of dirty rags from her hands.
The 20-year-old male proceeded to travel along the shrine grounds, cleaning the dried leaves from the steps and the spiderwebs from the shrine itself. The task was not glorious, but Nezuko and Tanjiro had kept up cleaning the area at least once a week as a sign of respect.
Today was not meant to be any different than any other cleaning day.
But, as Tanjiro shifted items from one side of the shrine to the other, a scent caught him off guard.
The smell itself was utterly revolting. Almost as if flesh were being charcoaled.
That lingering smell made his stomach churn unhappily as his flame-saturated home flashed through his memories.
Ignoring the sense of unease, the redhead made his way to where the smell was strongest.
Near the Sacred Tree stood a small shed, bearing the scent as well as an open mouth well. This well was not anything special- only rumored to be where demons’ bones were tossed after execution during the feudal era. Tanjiro never cared to look further into it.
But now the pungent smell was assaulting his nose, pouring from the depths of the well.
“Perhaps a dead animal?” he mused aloud, brows furrowing.
Against his better judgement, Tanjiro dropped down into the well. Upon impact, the boy’s body begun to feel light and all vision became lost. It was as though he had been tossed in a vacuum in space. The feeling itself was unnerving and left him feeling as though he no longer claimed control of his body.
The smell surrounded him, blocking his senses as hands rapidly searched for something to ground with. But, to no avail did Tanjiro find something like that.
Instead, a vicious scream broke from the left side of the darkness, demonic and livid.
Tanjiro swayed in the darkness, blinking rapidly while trying to pinpoint exactly where the horrible sound was coming from.
The boy’s voice was captured in his throat as light was granted- emitting from his right side in claw like marks. Was he cut? Why didn’t he feel anything but this trembling anxiety?
Steeling his quivering limbs, he reached out towards the anomalous screeching, just barely spotting the outline, and felt all gravity return to his body the moment his fingers grazed what felt like burned skin.
Laying flat on his back, Tanjiro blinked heavily against the blinding sun pouring into the well, lungs feeling punctured as he dragged oxygen in desperately. With a curious hand, he reached over to where his body once glowed, frowning upon realizing that blood soaked his timid fingers.
“Not a dream,” he whispered and propped himself up, glaring up at the open sky. What had happened to the roof of the shed?
“Nezuko?” He called out, staggering onto all fours and eventually onto two unsteady feet. Everything felt groggy yet hyper-sensitive.
Reaching for the vines that coated the interior of the well, Tanjiro begun lifting himself up and out of the darkness despite the appalling wound assaulting his mental and physical state. The sight that greeted him at the mouth was not like anything he had seen before.
Green was plastered all around, the scent surrounding himself being so pure and welcoming. Undoubtedly, even the untouched forest surrounding his shrine lacked in such a clean smell. Along with the beautiful sight of lush trees and untrimmed grass came the notice of animals native to his own knowledge. One, having the same statured of a deer, was fire fox red with white stripes- almost like a zebra.
Drawing his eyes away, he studied his surroundings. He needed to focus.
“Nezuko?” he called more urgently, hearing his own voice carry through the surrounding forest.
“Nezuko!”
Panic rose quickly through his body- he could not smell her; he could not catch any familiar scents at all! This place was not home! This place was not where Nezuko was!
“Nezuko!” he screeched again and plastered a hand on his side wound. This pain was unbelievable!
Tumbling forwards, he begun hobbling towards the woodland, hoping and praying to catch her scent.
He needed to protect her! How could he do that if he did not even know where she was?
So, he limped onward until his legs begun to crumbled under himself.
Allowing his knees to hit the earth, Tanjiro slowly lowered himself stomach down.
He was incredibly frustrated, and confused; free hand balling into a fist with clumps of grass smothering between his fingers.
The redhead was not certain how long he laid there, willing his body to move once again. But, his body did not comply. Inhaling deeply, Tanjiro took in all of his surroundings and perked up when he actually recognized an aroma.
The Sacred Tree.
This scent he knew. Knew it well. While it still seemed too pristine compared to what he had always known at home, he knew this tree before him was the Sacred Tree that his shrine surrounded and was blessed with.
But, instead of blessing markers tied around the midriff, a body was found. The body was unmoving- but he could catch the slight draw of a rising chest that indicated shallow breathing.
He hated it. He hated how interested he was in this new found man and how Nezuko slipped his mind so quickly. But he also had a nagging suspicion that Nezuko was not here- that in the back of his mind, he knew he was not home. He was not anywhere near home.
Maybe that was better, considering he'd already been mauled on by some strange figure.
Tanjiro laid on the ground, chin planted in the grass and he looked up at the other figure in novelty.
His hair was a deep ebony, the ends painted a gentle midnight blue. Even with the male’s eyes folded shut, Tanjiro could tell just how stunning he was, lashes like crowns for his cheeks.
Perhaps the redhead would have thought the stranger was a female had their chest not been bare and very well built. The man was sleeping- or so it seemed at least. Roots had sprouted from the ground in tremendous size and wrapped the body tightly to the wide based tree. Around his hips were tied a red Kimono, some sort of animal skin lining the ends of the cloth. The pants he wore matched the brilliant fire of the short kimono, standing out against the superabundant green forest.
Eventually, the bronze skinned male gathered enough energy to push up on his hands and knees once more, inching his way towards the other with large eyes.
“Hello?” He called; voice shakier than he cared to admit. “Are you okay? I don’t want to startle you,”
But no response.
So Tanjiro, once again going against his better judgement, mustered all the strength possible to clambered up the strong roots to sit right below the unresponsive boy, grunting with terrible effort. Again, he called out to him, but still, no sign of interest or consciousness was responded.
The injured boy huffed, using neighboring roots as a crutch as he willed himself to stand. He wobbled and whimpered in pain, but eventually managed to stand on his own two feet again. Though, he honestly felt like he would crumble at any second.
Reaching his free hand out to the other, the Kamado son ran his fingers through the midlength locks of hair, surprised to find they fell through his fingers carefully yet easily. It was as though they were freshly brushed out, but he had no way of knowing.
He stood like this for a while, curiosity getting the better of him as he looked closely at each angle and each curve of the other who was defiantly alive at this point. One hand kept steadily applying pressure to his side why the other continued to twirl the silky locks through his battered fingers. He laid gingerly against one of the larger roots and was happy for the support.
But the blissful moments were not everlasting. Suddenly, that nauseating scent hit him hard and Tanjiro spun on his heel hurriedly. Grasping the red Kimono tied around the slumbering body’s hips, he was met face to face with the charred skin of his sister; charcoaled and twisted with anger.
It was her- he knew it! It was his younger sister’s face, but the body resembled that of a centipede.
“Hanako!” he screeched, chest contracting as he struggled to catch his breath. It felt much like he had been punch in the gut with a steal hand while another restricted his throat.
Her smile was twisted, burned to a crisp black from what he assumed was the shrine fire.
He saw her after the flames died down, eyes dehydrated and shriveled as the police dug through the rubble to retrieve the bodies. He saw all of them- every last one of his burned siblings and even his disintegrated mother.
He was not supposed to see- he knew he was not supposed to be there, but he had to know! He had to know they were not granted a miracle and somehow alive!
“Hanako- please!” he sobbed, eyes becoming blurry as he reached out to her. But the demonic existence crackled and whipped its back end around, slamming Tanjiro to the ground with a satisfying grunt of pleasure. Moving once again, the centipede lunged forward and grasped the boy by the side, shaking until its teeth broke skin in an excruciating burst of pain.
Flailing his arms, Tanjiro managed to shove his bloodied fingers into the dried eye socket, the crumbling of skin not lost on him as the gagged heavily. The beast released him with a cry of pain, and once again the boy crawled towards the body trapped against the tree.
“Please,” he cried out. “Please! That’s my sister!”
This time when Tanjiro screamed at the other, he got a response.
“Worthless human,” snorted the other, vibrant green eyes now boring down into his. He looked disgusted with Tanjiro, and his voice and sentence structure were choppy at best.
But Tanjiro didn’t have time to focus on the insult, instead he choked on another sob as he climbed up the roots. He was smothered in agony, the throbbing at this side growing worse with each movement. The monster, while Tanjiro struggled tremendously to stand, was getting ahold of itself once again, now much angrier than before.
The bounded looked up at the demon presented before him and cracked a wicked smile, fingers stretching in an urging manner. “You. Human.” He spoke to Tanjiro. “Can you get me out? Sword- in the ground. Pull it.”
Tanjiro glanced up, tears still leaving his eyes continuously as he tried to comprehend what the other was asking of him.
A sword?
Wiping his eyes, he looked around the base of the tree, but did not see what the other was talking about. Looking back up, Tanjiro shook his head and choked on another sob. There was not a sword there, a monster with his sister’s face was after him, and this very pretty man spoke like he was a damn caveman. It was all so overwhelming.
“Sword! There!” bellowed the other, anger rising as the boy below him cried out again.
The centipede creature decided Tanjiro had enough of a break and roared forward, easily towering the two by yards. Avoiding the impact, Tanjiro cowered down and heard the boy above scream in anger. He kept shouting about the sword- and how Tanjiro was a worthless human- but the redhead just could not see it!
Once again, his little sister’s face was caught in his vision and he froze again, anger rising in his body. “Leave Hanako alone!” he wailed at the beast, being thrown off the roots moments later the same way he had the first time.
Tanjiro had the wind knocked from his chest, throat becoming raw as he sucked in air helplessly. The centipede reached for that specific area at his side again, and instead of staying frozen, the boy forcefully rolled to the left. He only moved about a foot away, but it was enough to evade the demon momentarily.
“The sword!” the other screamed again.
“There is no sword!” he howled back.
While still bound, the one wearing the red Kimono seemed to start throwing a tantrum- feet kicking and head swinging side to side. “The sword! Get the fuckin’ sword!”
It was Tanjiro’s fault for taking his attention off the demon before him, ready to throw a retort at the other. It was his fault it managed to ram its teeth back into his right side and rip a chunk of flesh free from the boy’s abdomen. What he was not expecting on top of everything else, was the see a lilac crystal shine brightly within the flesh forcefully ripped off his body.
Was that in me? He mused in awe, all before the pain set in and he was struck with quivering shock once again.
Caveman was screaming at the top of his lungs now, all on and on about the sword he swore was there. And at his point, what did Tanjiro have to lose?
Struggling to crawl back to the base of the tree, Tanjiro begun to feel around hopelessly. Just barely there, he could smell a shift in the air- almost like iron- just at the base of the largest root. Reaching out, the boy was surprised to feel something in his grasp.
“The sword,” he breathed out, and with all his might he begun to pull and pull, feeling it break free from the root.
With the sword free, the long figure begun to form in his hand. Old and rusted, but defiantly a sword, was sitting haphazardly in his lap, the scent now much stronger in his nose. The roots trapping the other were dying away, but as he saw the man hop off and away from the tree, Tanjiro knew one thing deep within his shuttering heart. He needed to get that stone
Get that jewel, Red Sun. a voice seemed to whisper in his ears, urging him on.
So, he did. He crawled forward with every ounce of energy he could muster and grabbed the jewel, holding it close to his chest with the hope his fingers would seal around it.
His last thought before the world was swallowed in darkness was who the hell is Red Sun?
When Tanjiro finally came to, he was perched against the Sacred Tree with an older man hovering over. The redhead could not help but startle a bit- seeing the mask of a red goblin glaring down at him. Despite seeing this mask- though this one seemed much better made- at festivals, having it up close and personal after everything that just happened did happen to cause a scare.
Instantly, Hanako’s face flashed in his mind and the boy shot forward, gasping for breath as his frantic eyes searched his surroundings.
But she was not there.
The man once strapped to the tree was a bit far off, but Tanjiro could not pick up any other scent other than the three present.
“My sister,” he gasped out and instantly regretted it, hand reaching to grasp at his right side. a cloth had been gently placed over the wound, but the missing skin could be felt through the fabric. This made Tanjiro's stomach flip.
Goblin mask man did not respond, but rather he slapped the boy over the head and pulled the hand from the wound. Grunting with displeasure, the older male glanced over at the far off one.
“Take him back, Inosuke,” The man demanded, voice rough on the ears. “He’s going to need to be treated and bandaged.”
The Inosuke fella, eyes averted towards the open forest, only huffed, and turned his nose up in disinterest.
“My sister,” the redhead pleaded again, looking between the two. “That thing had my sister’s face. Where did it go?”
“I killed,” Inosuke blurted rudely. “Not real. Face was not real.”
“It was an illusion, meant to startle it’s enemies." Continued Goblin man, "Those centipedes, once the devour the blood of someone, are able to see what the victim fears. Based on that, it can change its form to strike fear in it’s prey or target enemy.” The old man cleared up, setting a hand on Tanjiro’s shoulder.
He had not realized just how bad he was shaking and implored his body to halt its quivering.
It did not work.
“Inosuke slayed the demon, my child. The face it wore was not real. It was not her. Only a fragment of your fear used against you.”
Tanjiro had so many thoughts swarming around in his head, all leading back to the one demanding question.
“Where am I?” he blurted, breath heavy an anxiety buried itself deep in his gut.
“You’re in Inosuke’s forest,” Goblin stated, as if that cleared up the whole situation when it, in fact, did the opposite.
“No- like, what part of Japan? I cannot smell my home. I’m not home anymore.” He rasped out, voice becoming quicker as he tried to stress the intense confusion he felt. “I was at home- and then I went in the well. Then that thing was attacking me in the well! Now I’m here and I don’t know where here is!”
He was shouting at this point, anger and confusion rising up his throat with a nasty threat of puke. Tears pooled at the corner of his eyes again, so much going unanswered as both looked at the boy as if he had grown a second head.
“What is Ja-pan,” sounded out Inosuke, tasting the new word on his tongue and yet still pronouncing it wrong.
“My child, did you say you came from the Bone Eaters Well?”
“Yes,” Tanjiro snapped, quickly adding a much more gentle "Sir," The redhead knew these two were not to blame; he needed to cool his head.
Looking up, the old man demanded Inosuke carry Tanjiro and finally the other complied and scooped the wounded boy up bridal style. Perhaps, had it been under any other circumstances, Tanjiro would have sputtered in embarrassment. But today? Today he would take any help he could get, no care about how he was held into a bare chest.
“From the Demon’s bones will come a pure soul,” The man spoke as they walked through the forest. “bearing the Blood Sun, to outwit the Disappearing Moon. Hidden within the sun’s rays, blood will cleanse the tainted stone.”
Tanjiro, pressed against the bare chest of the caveman, glanced over in curiosity. That sounded like something from a fairy tale.
“You, my child, might be far from your home. A demon demands to be tamed, and your earrings give me belief that you are forsaken to be the tamer, Red Sun.”
That name struck a nerve with Tanjiro, had been called that twice now.
“Call me Urokodaki,” the man swept on. “I am the Monk of this village. Many ages ago, a prophecy was foretold of a man, bearing a pure soul and the Red Sun would come forth from a time that was not our own. He would wear clothes of suspicion and would rise from the demon’s bone.” Urokodaki spoke calmly, not once stopping to listen to Tanjiro’s babble of questions.
“If I am to have any say, I would guess that the pure soul spoken of would be you. You come baring the Red Sun on your earrings and are definitely from a time period foreign to us all here. On top of that, you rose from the Bone Eaters Well- where all demon bones are dumped after prayers.”
“I don’t know what any of this means,” cried out Tanjiro in frustration. Inosuke grunted in annoyance at the outburst, but kept quiet otherwise.
“That jewel you have sealed in your hands.” The man snapped, watching as the redhead startled and glanced at his enclosed fist. It was as though Tanjiro had forgotten all about it. “That jewel holds a dangerous power and was found within the depth of your body. ‘Blood will cleanse the tainted jewel.’, and I am to believe it is your blood that has kept the jewel safe.”
Silence followed that, Tanjiro sinking into the arms of Inosuke to mule over what he had just been told. As much as the whole thing did not make sense, he had a small sense of understanding. As if he knew he was supposed to be here. This definitely was not his home, and the fact that the word Japan was new to their ears proved that perhaps, he was in a time before it existed.
But that felt silly to believe.
He could not deny that the demon they spoke of, bearing his sister’s face, was surely real. The sword, the jewel, and his own blood were all real. This was not some sort of sick joke.
He deflated some more as realization begun to sink in.
Had he traveled back in time? Because of this jewel? Because of some fortune told of his arrival? Was his green, checkered Kimono really so bizarre?
“I like my Kimono,” he pouted childishly, and earned a snicker from the old man.
“I’m sure you do. It's just not a common sight around here.”
Inosuke mumbled something about it being ugly, leaving Tanjiro to glare up at the pretty boy with furrowed brows. If he wasn’t in such quaking pain, perhaps the male would’ve snapped something back at Inosuka- but alas, he had no energy to do so.
Again, things fell quiet all over and the boy took the chance to look away from the man holding him and instead glanced all around himself.
The forest was now thinning out and they were at what seemed to be the mouth of a small village, populated with towns men mostly dressed in ragged brown clothing, handmade with much wear on the knees and elbows. Urokodaki, he noticed, wore a gentle blue Kimono, Japanese clouds stitched in the fabric in a very neat manner. The three of them stood out compared to the town’s people.
“You called me the Red Sun. What does that mean? I heard that somewhere before- right before I passed out. It was like someone in my head was calling me that and telling me to grab this thing,” Tanjiro questioned, raising his fist but not opening it to reveal the jewel sweating in his bloodied palm.
“That is the name you bare. If you are who the prophecy spoke of, you are to be called the Red Sun. The one who will cleanse the jewel with your pure blood.”
Red Sun, he contemplated. It sounded so foreign but so right.
I am the Red Sun, he thought quietly.
I am the Red Sun.