The embers from last night's flare-up still smolder in my chest as morning light creeps into the room, painting everything in soft golds and pinks that feel too innocent for the storm brewing inside me.
Kenji's crib rattles first, his little hands shaking the bars like he's testing for weaknesses in a fortress. "Sa-to! Wake! Hungry!"
I blink awake—or pretend to, since sleep's been a joke lately—rubbing my eyes with chubby fists. The gouged bed frame catches my gaze, a jagged reminder of the red's tantrum. *Gotta cover that. Maybe say I scratched it with a toy? Kids do dumb stuff.* The red hums low, almost smug, like it's daring me to slip up.
"Yeah, bro. Coming," I mumble, sliding out of bed and toddling over to his crib. He reaches through the bars, grabbing my shirt with sticky fingers from who-knows-what. His brown eyes light up, that pure trust hitting me like a gut punch. *Two lives without this, now him. Can't let the red touch you, kid.*
Aiko sweeps in, her footsteps light on the tatami, carrying the faint scent of fresh laundry and morning tea. "My boys are up early again! Did you sleep okay, Satoru? You look a little tired."
She lifts Kenji out, bouncing him on her hip as he giggles, then turns to me with that worried mom gaze. Her telekinesis floats a blanket over, wrapping it around my shoulders like a cape.
"Monsters again, Mama," I say softly, hugging her leg. Not a total lie—the monster's inside, clawing to get out.
She kneels, pulling me close, her warmth seeping through. "Oh, sweetie. Dreams can't hurt you here. Papa will chase them away." Her voice is soothing, like a lullaby wrapped in a hug, but it stirs the red faintly, possessive. *Mine,* it whispers. I squash it with blue, feeling the cool energy wrap around like a shield.
Hiroshi's voice booms from the kitchen. "Breakfast brigade! Come and get it before I eat it all!"
We shuffle in, the aroma of tamagoyaki—fluffy rolled eggs—and rice hitting me hard, making my stomach growl despite the inner churn. He's at the table, plates already set, his beard flecked with a bit of egg from "testing." His golden emblem shirt gleams under the light, a reminder of his hero life.
"Morning, family!" he greets, scooping Kenji into his high chair and ruffling my hair. It springs back up, defiant as ever. "Satoru, you ready for some hero fuel? Gotta build those muscles."
I climb into my seat, grabbing chopsticks that feel oversized in my tiny hands. "Yes, Papa. Strong like you?"
He laughs, deep and rumbling, passing me a piece of egg. "Stronger, maybe. Eat up—patrol's light today, so family time later."
Aiko sits, floating the teapot over to pour steaming green tea. "Light patrol? That's rare. No villains causing trouble?"
Hiroshi shrugs, munching rice. "Quiet week. Some petty thefts, but my walls handled 'em. One guy tried phasing through—bounced right off." He mimes it, arms wide, earning a giggle from Kenji.
"Wall! Bounce!" Kenji echoes, waving his spoon and splattering rice.
Aiko wipes it up with a napkin, her quirk making it dance away. "Careful, little one. Satoru, pass the pickles?"
I hand them over, my fingers brushing hers. The red pulses once, hot and jealous, but I clamp it with blue. *Not now, firebug. Eating time.* Breakfast banter flows: Hiroshi teases Aiko about her telekinesis "cheating" at chores, she retorts with floating his tea just out of reach, making us all laugh.
"See? Heroes need tricks too," he says, snagging the cup mid-air.
Kenji bangs his bowl. "Trick! Me!"
Aiko smiles. "Your quirk will come, Kenji. Patience, like Satoru."
I nod innocently, but inside: *Patience? That's my middle name. Reserves building—Six Eyes recycling every scrap. Soon, full control.*
After eating, Hiroshi heads out. "Back by lunch! Stay safe, loves."
Aiko waves, then turns to us. "Playroom time? Blocks or puzzles?"
"Blocks!" Kenji yells, toddling ahead.
We build in the living room, sunlight streaming through windows, casting patterns on the floor like invisible barriers. Kenji stacks wildly, his tower wobbling. "Tall! King!"
I add carefully, infusing blue to steady it without showing. "Yeah, bro. Our castle. No fall."
He claps. "No fall! Magic!"
Aiko watches from the couch, folding laundry with her quirk. "You two make a great team. Satoru, you're so steady—maybe your quirk's about balance?"
I shrug, faking shy. "Dunno, Mama." *Balance? Heh, definately. Blue calm vs. red rage. Walking the line.*
The morning drags sweet and slow, but the red simmers, building pressure like a kettle on low boil. By lunch—simple udon noodles slurpy and hot—Aiko notices my fidgeting.
"You okay, sweetie? Wiggly today."
"Fine. Excited for Papa," I say, twirling noodles.
She nods, but her eyes linger. Kenji slurps loudly. "Noodle! Yum!"
Hiroshi returns midday, true to word, bursting in with takeout sweets—mochi chewy and sweet, dusted in powder.
"Surprise! Early finish—no calls." He distributes them, Kenji's face lighting up sticky.
"Mochi! Soft!" he mumbles through a bite.
We eat on the porch, breeze rustling leaves, the sweet rice melting on my tongue. Conversation turns light: Aiko shares neighborhood gossip, Hiroshi jokes about hero rankings.
"Endeavor's climbing fast—fiery temper, that one."
I listen, meta-knowledge ticking: *Abusive dad, power hungry. Fix him later? Or dismantle.* The red approves, hot flash of agreement.
Afternoon nap looms. Kenji fights it, yawning mid-protest. "No sleep! Play!"
Aiko floats him to bed. "Rest, tiger. Satoru too."
He crashes fast, but me? I experiment: levitate a book from the shelf, slow arc to my hand. Blue steady, reserves deeper now—hold for minutes without drain.
Red test: focus on a loose thread, micro-dismantle. It parts clean, silent. *Control edging up. But nights... that's when it rages.*
Evening creeps in. Hiroshi helps with dinner prep, chopping veggies with precise cuts. "Like slashing villains—chop chop!"
Kenji "helps," banging pots. "Chop! Hero!"
Aiko laughs, stirring soup. "My kitchen heroes. Satoru, set the table?"
I do, plates clinking. Dinner: hearty miso soup, tofu silky, veggies crisp. Talk flows: plans for a family outing.
"Zoo soon?" Aiko suggests.
"Yes! Animals!" Kenji cheers.
Hiroshi nods. "If patrols stay quiet."
I smile. "See tigers? Rawr!"
They laugh, but the red twists at "rawr"—predatory echo. *Hungry,* it whispers again.
Bath time: bubbles foaming, Kenji splashing waves. "Boat! Sink!"
I float a toy subtly with blue, making it bob. He stares. "Fly boat!"
Aiko gasps playfully. "Wind? Or magic?"
"Magic!" Kenji declares.
She scrubs my back. "You're quiet tonight, Satoru. Sure no monsters?"
I nod. "Promise." *Liar. Monster's me.*
Bedtime: Aiko's lullaby, soft and melodic. Hiroshi tucks Kenji, then me. "Sweet dreams, son. Heroes rest strong."
"Night, Papa."
Door shuts. Kenji's breathing evens quick.
But the red waits, patient predator. Hours tick—midnight? Pain builds gradual, then detonates like a bomb in my core.
I arch, silent scream biting pillow. Veins burn fire, skin crawling as markings etch black—tattoos snaking, extra mouths grinning on palms, belly.
Visions devour: throne of skulls, four arms cleaving hordes, gore hot and slick, laughter guttural—mine, Sukuna's, ours.
*Awaken fully,* the voice roars, seismic. *Devour. Rule.*
Energy erupts red, body seizing. Extra eyes pop open on forehead, cheeks—seeing cursed flows everywhere, hidden layers peeling.
Slash unleashes wild—dismantle rips wall poster, shreds flying silent confetti.
*No! Family asleep!* Blue surges desperate, Six Eyes directing torrent, Infinity sealing me in bubble.
But red rampages, another cleave—crib bar nicks, wood splintering crack! Loud this time.
Panic peaks. *Kenji!*
The voice mocks. *Weakling. Let me out—protect better.*
Blue overwhelms finally, markings retreating burningly slow, eyes sealing shut. Pain fades to ash.
I pant, room wrecked: poster tatters, crib gouged. Kenji stirs, whimpering. "Sa-to? Noise... scared."
I crawl over, heart hammering. "Just wind, bro. Safe." I pat his back, tiny hand on mine.
He settles, but tears prick my eyes—first time. *Can't keep this. Control or lose everything.*
Hide damage: stuff poster bits under bed, blame cat or something.
Morning: Aiko spots crib nick. "What? Termites?"
I shrug. "Dunno."
She worries. "Doctor maybe. Odd things happening."
Hiroshi agrees at breakfast. "If dreams bad, check quirk early."
Kenji shares fruit. "No scared, Sa-to."
I hug him. "Thanks, bro."
Play: puzzles, me steadying pieces blue.
"Fit! Good!" Kenji praises.
Aiko watches. "Bond strong."
*Definately. For him, harness the rage.*
Lunch: light, chatter.
Afternoon: yard play, red quiet but watchful.
I practice barrier around flower—protects from Kenji's poke.
"Cool! Shield!" he says.
Aiko smiles. "Imagination."
Dinner: cozy, stories.
"Dragon slashed—blocked!" Hiroshi animates.
Kenji: "Slash! Bad!"
Red stirs approvingly.
Bed: hugs.
Dark: red builds mild. Suppress easier—blue stronger.
*Learning. Embers to inferno, my way.*
Kenji whispers. "Night."
"Night, bro."
Rages mount, but control flickers hope.