SIX YEARS LATER. SENDAI CITY - AUGUST 15TH, 2005.
The skies were dull, the earth shielded by thick clouds and cooled by swaying rapids of wind. The temperature was cool enough to enjoy a stroll, but humid enough sweat a jar of jam.
Sendai PrimarySchool bustled as the children funneled out of the front entrance, adding to the evening rush. Standing out in this crowd was a young boy, no older than six, dressed in all black. From his nice, black cotton-thick hoodie, to the black cargos that sat a little too big for him.
And, obviously, the sneakers on his feet completed the whole look. A total blackout.
"Haisei-kun! I'm right here!" Shouting happily like she does every time she picks up her son, Sarada Yokuta leaned against her car and waved excitedly towards her son. The one in question looked her way with a thin-lipped smile, his thumbs hugging the straps of his backpack as he trudged forward.
The car air was stuffy, but thick with his mother's perfume–It was sweet, floral at its base. His eyes wandered towards the window, not being able to do anything other than get lost in the city life outside of it.
"So, how was school, sweetheart? You learn anything new?" Sarada's line of questioning left the boy a little disgruntled. But he didn't make it known– He hummed, acting like he was trying to reloop his day, only to say, "Nope. Nothing I can think of." His tone was even, a perfect mixture of uninterest and detachment.
Sarada hung her gaze worriedly on her son's face before retreating to the busy rapids of the street traffic. The open sun and partly cloudy skies caught her attention, filling the silence with a melancholy weight.
Haisei didn't particularly care. While he cared for his mother, he was torn, knowing he had to part ways with her soon. The past six years under her roof had been among the most entertaining and heartwarming. It just sucks that I had to go and get attached. I assume that's just part of what comes with rebirth–The motherly attachment. He hummed, peeking through his blonde hair, he muttered coarsely under his breath–
"155…156…157." There are about as many curses as there are people–even if they aren't terrifying like Ryomen Sukuna. Just the simple thought of that sent a shiver of challenge through the young boy's nerves. His golden, red-ringed eyes glimmered with an edge both his mother and he couldn't quite describe.
Upon reaching their home in Sendai, Sarada tossed her purse aside and immediately went into the kitchen, while Haisei went into his room. The living room TV cut on just before his door clicked, and when distant running water from the kitchen sink signified his mother diving into duty, Haisei raced to the center of his room and sat with his legs crossed.
Closing his eyes with a deep sigh, his chest heaving with a weight of confidence and excitement.
The air around his body trembled as an unseen energy came to life–Sparking a beautiful, deep, crimson red bound with black flames. Ever since that moment six years ago, Haisei's understanding of cursed energy has been an open dam of growth and ascension.
His refinement and overall ability to manipulate the supernatural substance have been his utmost concern, right next to mastering his already domineering Observation Haki.
Six years is a lot of time, and it saved him the trouble of splitting his attention between his basic Haki training and his cursed-technique and energy training.
A small smirk began to split the kid's face, his energy fluctuating as the atmosphere tensed. A moment later, his bed frame–wooden structure and all- began to bend as if it were made of taffy.
The little round orange bean bag chair he had situated in the far back left corner of his room, right next to his closet door, did much the same–blinking into an entirely different ball game– A star.
Each targeted piece of furniture held its new form perfectly–the star's destruction maintained by Haisei's precise mental image of what he wanted it to be. His observation haki flared in tandem with his cursed technique: Imaginator. Making it easier for him to navigate the severity of his imagination.
Various forms of things in existence–and even supernatural and multiversal, appeared and disappeared–blinking in and out of existence. For hours, this training of his continued, his every activation spiking his energy only for him to reign it in perfectly.
This was the basic training that Haisei had developed for his cursed energy and technique, not the greatest. But it was ingenious in his eyes.
"Haisei! Honey, dinner's ready!" And as if on perfect notice, Haisei swung his bath towel over its hook on the door with a content smile. Feeling the calm, powerful, and pure cursed energy pulsing through his body–Keeping him strengthened at all times beyond his supernatural physical capabilities already.
Clenching his fists as he swung a hoodie over his head, hiding the markings that swarmed his arms and down to his fingers, Haisei opened his door with happy strides and sat down.
Sarada shuffled around in the kitchen, swinging around her son, shooting cautious, worried glances his way, trying to read his mind through the closed windows of his eyes. She huffed silently and made his plate, forcing a smile as she mentally reprimanded herself for how she was feeling.
Calm down, girl. If it's hard for you, he's most definitely feeling it too… That paranoia. I still think about that day– Anyways, she clears her throat, sliding Haisei his plate. "Thanks, mom." He smiles thinly, diving into his plates no holds barred. Sarada stifled a laugh. It was, in a sense, comedic; the lack of emotion in such a scene tickled her.
As she dove into the dishes to occupy her anxious mind and also get a head start on chores for later, her ears perked, picking up something interesting from the morning news recap.
"Haisei, baby, can you turn the TV up for me? Please?" With a grunt and a happy nod, Haisei continued to chew. Let's try this, I doubt she'll notice. He told himself as he activated his cursed technique, quickly gaining a feel for the new TV remote that replaced his fork momentarily.
He quickly and casually turned the TV up and switched his remote back into a fork, diving right back into his food like it was the most natural thing to do.
"And just coming in, from reporter Mya Kenjishi, with some grave news to follow the contrary–"
The TV flashed, and Haisei finally lifted his eyes. Hmm? From the undisturbed flow of water and his mother's frozen hands, he focused his attention where hers was.
A woman with long, lightly curly black hair that reached to her elbows stood with a solemn expression; the scene behind her reeked of despair and mortifying terror. Haisei found himself getting entranced by the scene, too.
"Ottawa Stillworks Factory has been completely shut down and blocked from the public. The full story isn't fully known, but from what we could gather before this broadcast; A freak accident occurred, three men died, and two were injured. In fact, they're right over there." The scene shifted to two men getting patched up and analyzed in the back of an ambulance.
The whole scene was swarmed with police and reporters–That's not that far from here. He hummed, Damn, I see why it's a big deal. That's local and that brutal? What kind of accident could've happened?
Even though he wondered that, something within him knew well what it was. And the idea of it shuddered him to the core, nearly overwhelming him with the excitement.
"Haisei…" He heard his mother's voice, concern riding in her tone, as if she'd read his mind. However, he wasn't listening at all. His mind was already set in stone in tackling whatever curse dominated that factory before the sorcerers got there.
"Yea, yea mom. I won't be anywhere near that area." He lied.