The morning after that brutal nighttime surge feels like I've been hit by a quirkless truck all over again.
Sunlight stabs through the curtains, too bright, making my head throb like a bad hangover in a toddler's body.
Kenji's already up, standing in his crib with wobbly legs, gripping the bars and babbling at me.
"Sa-to! Up! Up!"
I rub my eyes, sitting up slowly. The bedpost nick from last night's slash is still there, a thin groove in the wood that I trace with my finger. *Gotta hide that better. Maybe blame it on a toy?*
"Yeah, coming, bro," I mumble, swinging my legs over the side. My voice is steady, but inside, that red energy lingers like a bad aftertaste—hot, insistent, whispering things I don't want to hear.
Aiko sweeps in, her telekinesis floating a fresh set of clothes over to us. "My early birds! Did you sleep well, Satoru?"
She lifts Kenji out first, changing him with quick, practiced hands. He squirms, giggling as she tickles his belly.
"Okay, Mama," I say, hopping down. Truth? Hell no. But I force a smile, toddling over to hug her leg. "Kenji woke me."
Aiko laughs, scooping me up next. "He's your little alarm, isn't he? Let's get you dressed. Papa's making breakfast today."
We head to the kitchen, the smell of miso soup and grilled fish wafting through the air, warm and comforting. Hiroshi's at the stove, stirring a pot with one hand while his golden barrier quirk holds a spatula in place mid-air—multitasking hero style.
"Morning, troops!" he calls, turning with a grin. "Fuel for the day. Satoru, you look a bit pale. Rough night?"
I climb into my chair, grabbing a spoon. "Bad dream, Papa. Monsters."
Not a lie. That red vision felt monstrous, all blood and laughter that wasn't quite mine.
Hiroshi sets bowls down, ruffling my hair. "Monsters, huh? Well, if any show up, I'll wall 'em off. Or you can, once your quirk pops."
Aiko sits with Kenji on her lap, feeding him tiny bites. "He's right. You're growing so fast—maybe it'll manifest soon."
Kenji waves his arms. "Quirk! Boom!"
We all chuckle, the sound filling the room like a shield against the weirdness in my head. Breakfast chatter flows easy: Hiroshi talks about a training session with other heroes, Aiko mentions grocery shopping later.
"Want to come to the market, boys?" she asks, wiping Kenji's chin.
"Yes!" I nod eagerly. Outings mean chances to observe quirks, test my own subtly.
Hiroshi finishes his bowl. "Sounds fun. I'll join if patrol ends early. Villains have been quiet lately—knock on wood."
He knocks the table, golden spark flickering. Aiko rolls her eyes. "Don't jinx it, love."
After he leaves with a kiss for each of us, Aiko clears up, dishes floating to the sink in a neat parade.
"Play while I tidy?" she suggests.
Kenji and I head to the living room, toys scattered like a battlefield. He grabs a block, stacking wobbly. "Tower! Sa-to help."
I sit cross-legged, adding blocks with care. But that red hum? It's back, low but building, like pressure in my ears.
"Okay, bro. Make it tall." I infuse a tiny blue thread of cursed energy, steadying the stack invisibly. It holds firm, defying gravity.
Kenji claps. "Tall! No fall!"
Aiko peeks in. "Wow, that's stable! Good job, you two."
*Heh, if only she knew. Infinity's got perks.* But the red twists, urging a slash—just to test, it whispers. I clench my fist. *No. Not here.*
Market trip starts mid-morning. Aiko pushes Kenji's stroller, me walking beside, hand in hers. Streets buzz: people with quirks on display— a man levitating bags, a woman stretching arms to grab high fruits.
"Look, Satoru! That lady's quirk is like rubber," Aiko points out.
"Cool," I say, eyes tingling with Six Eyes. I see the energy flows—quirk-based, surface level. Mine's deeper, hidden.
At the stalls, vendors call out: fresh veggies, fish flopping in tanks. Aiko haggles for apples, her telekinesis holding the bag open.
"How much for these?" she asks the seller.
"500 yen," he replies, weighing them.
"400?" She smiles sweetly.
He laughs. "Deal, for the cute kids."
Kenji points at a fish. "Swim! Swim!"
I watch, but the red surges suddenly—sharp pain in my gut. *Not now,* I think, gripping the stroller.
A kid nearby shows off his quirk: tiny explosions from fingertips, like mini fireworks. Sparks fly, crowd oohs.
But one spark veers wild, toward us.
Instinct kicks: blue energy flares, Infinity up. The spark bounces off harmlessly, fizzling out.
No one notices—too fast. But the kid's mom scolds him. "Careful, Taro!"
Aiko shields us anyway. "Close one! You okay, Satoru?"
I nod, heart racing. *Saved by the barrier. But that red... it wanted to slash back.* The whisper: *Punish.*
We head home loaded with bags, Aiko floating the heavy ones. Lunch is simple: sandwiches, fruit. Kenji mashes his, making a mess.
"Eat slow, bro," I say, demonstrating.
He mimics. "Slow!"
Aiko beams. "You're such a good big brother."
Warmth hits—real family stuff. Old life? Cold ramen alone. This? Worth the isekai.
Naptime hits. Kenji crashes fast, but me? I lie awake, testing.
Focus blue: warp space around my hand, levitate a toy subtly. It floats, silent.
Now red: channel it small, slash a thread from my blanket. Cuts clean, no sound.
*Control's improving. But balance 'em.* Exhaustion pulls, but the red fights sleep, visions creeping: tattoos, extra mouths grinning.
I wake to Aiko's voice. "Time for park, sleepyheads!"
Kenji's excited, bouncing in her arms. "Park! Swing!"
We go, sun warm on my skin. Playground's alive: kids running, quirks sparking— one girl floating bubbles, boy digging with claw hands.
Aiko sets Kenji in sand, me beside. "Play nice."
I build a sandcastle, infusing blue to hold it tall. Kenji pats it. "Castle! King!"
"Yeah, bro. Our kingdom." *Heh, definately. One day.*
But older kids approach—maybe five or six, roughhousing. One shoves another, quirk activating: wind gust that knocks sand everywhere.
It hits our castle, crumbling it.
Kenji whines. "No! Bad!"
The kid laughs. "Oops! Baby stuff anyway."
Red surges hot—anger twisting. *Slash him,* it urges. *Teach.*
I stand, tiny but steady. "Not nice. Fix it."
He sneers. "Make me, white-hair."
Aiko notices, starting over. But before she reaches, I focus blue: barrier up around our spot. Subtle, invisible.
He kicks more sand—bounces back, hitting him in the face.
"What the—?" He sputters, confused.
His friends laugh. "Your quirk backfired!"
Aiko arrives. "Everything okay?"
I nod innocently. "Sand bounced."
She eyes them sternly. "Play careful, boys."
They scamper off. Kenji claps. "Bounce! Cool!"
*Yeah, cool. But that red... almost slipped.* Inside: *Patience. Not yet.*
We rebuild, Aiko helping. "You're brave, Satoru. Standing up like that."
"Protect Kenji," I say simply.
She hugs me. "My little hero."
Home for dinner. Hiroshi's back, sharing patrol tales.
"Saved a cat from a tree today—classic hero stuff."
Kenji mimics. "Cat! Meow!"
Laughter echoes. Aiko serves stir-fry, aromas spicy and inviting.
"How was the park?" Hiroshi asks.
"Fun! Sand bounce," I say.
Aiko explains the incident. "Satoru handled it well."
Hiroshi high-fives me. "That's my boy! Barriers run in the family."
*If only.* But pride swells.
Bedtime: story of a hero saving a village. Hiroshi's voice lulls Kenji out.
"...and the shield held strong."
He tucks me in. "Dream of adventures, son."
Aiko kisses my forehead. "Night, love."
Darkness settles. But the red builds—fiercer tonight, pain coiling like a snake.
I fight it, blue clamping down. Visions hit: shrine unfolding, cleaving endless foes. Power floods—markings flicker on skin again.
*No!* I grit teeth, suppressing.
A slash escapes—curtain tears wider this time.
Panic: *Control, damn it!*
Red laughs in my head. *Awaken fully. King.*
Blue surges, pushing back. It ebbs, but leaves me drained.
*Closer each time. Age four? Full Sukuna?* Fear and thrill mix. *Harness it. For family. For the throne.*
Kenji murmurs in sleep. "Sa-to..."
I whisper. "Safe, bro."
Morning: Aiko notices the curtain. "Oh? Must be wear. I'll sew it."
I nod. *Close call.*
Breakfast banter: Hiroshi plans a family outing soon.
"Beach maybe? Summer's coming."
Kenji cheers. "Beach!"
I smile. *Normal life. But powers brewing.*
Afternoon training: alone in room, red micro-slashes on paper scraps. Precise now.
Blue levitation: float myself an inch off floor. Wobbly, but progress.
*Step by step. Unstoppable soon.*
Park again: more play, no incidents.
Dinner: cozy, stories.
Bed: calm.
But in dark, whispers persist. *Soon.*
I steel myself. *My rules.*
Fractures deepen, but I'm forging the blade.