17 years after the death of Himmel the Hero, in the Great Sanft Forest, located in the northern lands
Sukuna stood on a stool in the kitchen of his family's home, smelling the stew he and his mom had been making over the course of the day.
Of course, he couldn't just try and make it himself, his mom wouldn't trust him unsupervised with the stove. So it had become a group effort.
Despite the initial annoyance, thinking too many chefs would ruin the meal, he was mildly surprised that his mom had taken the role of the sous-chef. She asked what he had wanted to add at key steps of the process, and he had told her what to add.
What they were at now was a stew with chicken, potatoes, and carrots, seasoned well.
"Wow Senken," His mom said, tasting the stew and looking at him. "It tastes really good!"
Sukuna was torn between letting the pride swell in his chest, or to criticize her tone. Of course it would taste good, he made it.
The door to the house opened, and Heben walked in, smiling at the two of them as she rounded the corner.
"Smells good," she said, pointedly looking at her mom. "Hey, is it okay if I snag Senken for a second? There's something happening in town I think he would like."
Their mom shot Sukuna a side-eyed look, thinking. "Hmm…Senken, wash your hands and you can go."
Sukuna shrugged, moving over to the basin and washing his hands in the cold water before he moved to follow after his sister. Despite having grown himself, so had she, so she kept ahead of him with long strides.
"What is it?" He asked, moving to stay beside her.
"It's a secret. You'll see in a second." She answered, a coy look on her face.
Sukuna's feet stepped across the cobblestone path, which steadily grew each month from the village towards their house, embedding themselves in the dirt road. It was the afternoon, the sun on its way below the horizon. His gaze drifted to the river, where men worked, hefting large stones into place to build a foundation that rested in the river itself.
His dad had said it would be another mill, what they were building was going to hold the water wheel to make the stone grind the grain they grew. They entered the village proper, meandering through the main street to where it turned off into the church's courtyard.
There, he could see practically every kid in the village crowded around one man who stood on the lip of the fountain. He had a gray beard that reached his chest, and was dressed in the robes of a traveler, a pack across his back.
In his hand was a long pipe, which he puffed at, the bowl wide and shallow enough that Sukuna's gaze could see the burning embers brighten with the intake of air over them. All the children were in rapt attention.
The old man lifted his mouth from the pipe, pursed his lips, and let a ring of smoke blow out from them above the crowd. Sukuna almost wanted to turn around and go back home, not impressed that his sister pulled him from his cooking to watch some asshat smoke in front of kids.
However, he stopped when the old man opened his mouth wide, and the smoke that stayed and coiled in the cavity visibly flowed out, not as a shapeless wisp, but coalesced into a small bird. The bird, a cardinal from the look of it, soundlessly flapped up to the ring of smoke and passed through it, banked backwards into a loop, and went through the ring a second time. The kids at the old man's feet vocalized, various sounds of awe as the bird's form fell apart back into shapeless smoke that crawled and thinned in the air.
Heben snorted beside him. In his peripheral vision, he could see how she stooped down so she could look at his profile head on.
"You should see your face, Senken," she said, voice infected with her smile. "I knew you'd get a kick from this."
Sukuna wasn't in childish awe, like his sister thought. He was studying. The motions the old man made, the way the smoke had held a shape for longer than a moment, animated.
He knew from his own attempts that he had no cursed energy, no way to use the techniques he had previously.
Seeing this old man perform these little illusions for the village children let him know, even still, there was something beyond the mundane.
"How does he do it?" he asked, looking at Heben, who had righted herself.
"No idea," she admitted. "It's magic."
Sukuna turned back, wanting to further visibly study the magic, only to find the old man had stopped casting his spell and had instead busied himself with staring at Sukuna, eyes wide and jaw slack in an emotion that Sukuna couldn't quite decipher.
It was horror or awe. He was sure of that.
The other children turned, wanting to see what it was the old man was reacting to, and once it was seen it was the malformed son of the headman, they groaned.
Long had they gotten used to his form, so they didn't feel fear over how he looked. That didn't mean that travelers, like this old man, would not. To them, by even showing up, Sukuna had ruined their fun.
They were such entitled little brats.
The old man stepped through the small crowd, the children parting around him as he moved towards the two kids of the headman. He was able to close his mouth, but his eyes were still wide, shaking in their sockets.
"Kid…" He started, but Heben spoke up first, standing part way in front of her little brother.
"You better watch what you're gonna say," She warned, palming one of her fists and popping the knuckles. "I don't care what magic you know, my little bro doesn't need your insults."
The old man looked confused, and then lifted both his hands, one still gripping the pipe, and shook his head.
"No!" He said, warding off the very idea. Of insulting him, or the asskicking his sister was unnecessarily offering in his defense. "No no no no no."
He turned his attention back to Sukuna, and actually took a knee.
"Kid, you wanna be my apprentice and learn magic?" The old man asked, holding a hand out.
Heben slapped it downward, frowning at the guy. Sukuna turned his head fast enough that he felt his neck pop.
"If you wanna take my little bro," Heben said, looking way too much like their mother. "You're gonna have to talk to our parents."
It was times like this that made Sukuna loathe being so young. He would have taken the offer. He would have been more than willing to leave. He had felt that way before, whenever the children of the village had escalated from verbal to physical bullying.
Despite his sister's thoughts, he was not so fragile. He had given as good as he got every time that had happened, which had eventually led to the brats stopping.
What followed was Sukuna and Heben leading this old man, Rauch, back to their home, to talk with their parents. Something neither of them were allowed to be privy to. They had been told to go spend some time in the village.
Naturally, both of them stayed close to the house instead, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.
"Your son has something I have never seen before," Rauch said, almost manic as he spoke in the middle of their living room. Sukuna could barely see over the top of the windowsill, but Heben could, standing out of view of the glass and sneaking peeks inside.
"We are aware of his…" His dad said, trailing off.
"Unique physicality." His mom finished, voice stern. "What does this have to do with that?"
"No, it's not that," Rauch corrected. "It's his mana!"
"His mana?" His dad asked.
"Neither of you are mages, right?" Rauch asked, the silence following letting Sukuna know they had shaken their heads no, in hindsight. "Mage's can be taught to view mana. Your son's mana is possibly the richest source I have seen in my entire life."
"The fuck does that mean?" His mom asked.
"Mana is usually viewed as like a fog," Rauch said, trying to explain. "How far that fog stretches is the measure of how much mana a mage has."
"Never have I ever seen someone's mana as thick as your sons."
Rauch continued, spirited. "His mana is nearly opaque, despite not being much more than a gifted apprentice. Your son has the makings of a once in a decade talent, I'm sure of it."
Sukuna turned his gaze to Heben, who was looking down at him with an eyebrow raised. This had been news to him. He figured his cursed energy would be the equivalent of mana, but since he had none, there was no equivalent in this new life.
To hear that he apparently had a rich source of some new energy, this mana, wasn't that strange.
He was one of, if not the greatest, sorcerers to ever exist. Perhaps he was destined to be a mage of such renown as well.
"You aren't going to take our son." His mom said, standing up. Heben flinched, and Sukuna deduced she was seen as she turned and shyly went back inside. Sukuna followed, far less ashamed of being caught. This conversation involved him, of course he should have witnessed it.
Walking inside, Rauch was rummaging through his bag. "At least allow me to give him a grimoire."
His parents were silent as Rauch finally pulled out a gray book, with lighter, almost silver embellishments on the cover and spine. He turned and handed the book to Sukuna, smiling.
"Young man, you have a tremendous gift. I believe you can be a top tier mage if you apply yourself." Rauch said, even as Sukuna took the book, flipping through it. A lot of words, some diagrams. Reminiscent of a textbook.
"That grimoire is for a spell that braids dried grass. It's a solid, beginner spell you can use to practice until you can find another mage to take you as an apprentice."
"I would stay and make sure you could get it, but I have a pace to keep." Rauch moved to their front door, waving backwards. "I hope to see what kind of mage you are."
Sukuna watched the old man leave, and then looked at his family. His dad watched the mage left, but both his sister and mom were looking down at him with varied looks. Both had their brows furrowed and lips thin.
Sukuna disregarded their looks, walking to his room, opening the book to the first page.
Once he got this spell down, he would try to figure out how the old man shaped smoke.
From there? His shrine would be rebuilt. Piece by piece if necessary.