⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥
The author here humbly requesting your support and interesting ideas.
If you have any suggestions for franchises to be part of the fanfic just leave it's name and if I find a place for it I will gladly add it.
Before I we get into Marvel and DC stuff should I follow the animated shows and movies, the comics or even the live action.
The animated shows
The comics
The live action movies
⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥
Three months... That was how long it took to change the okkotsu household.
Not all at once, rather gradually the same way water erodes stone. Imperceptible Day by day but undeniable when you step back and look at it.
The warmth in the house that existed before the incident didn't vanish, instead it was pulled back from a certain room, a certain individual ...
Yuta noticed everything.
Of course he did after all sunny had grown accustomed to reading the room to decipher his mom's expression. That skill didn't disappear with him getting Isekaid, if anything it had gotten stronger with cursed energy .
His father stopped meeting his eyes at breakfast
His mother lit incense every morning and currently was kneeling before the house hold shrine. Her hands clasped together as her lips mouthed prayers silently. She always waited until he left the he room.
Yuta let them act like that... After all his day had become filled to the brim . He woke before dawn, trained until the house stirred, then folded himself back into the role of a grieving eleven year old for however long was required.
It wasn't difficult. The performance had become second nature within the first week.
The real difficulty came from Rika.
She had been gentle at first.That was the word for it , gentle.
Quiet and close, hovering at the edges of rooms, watching him with that Same chilling intensity.
When he trained she observed. When he slept she kept watch. In those early days she was less a cursed spirit and more a presence, familiar and almost comforting in the way that constants are comforting
Then one day his father entered His room without knocking.
It was nothing. A completely ordinary thing , a parent entering their child's room to call them for dinner. His father had done it a thousand times before Rika, before the accident, before any of this.
The temperature dropped before the door even opened.
Yuta was quick to notice that familiar cold radiating outward from somewhere behind him.
He turned to find Rika no longer hovering passively near the window. She had manifested herself with an intensity that made the air feel thick.
His father stopped in the doorway all color leaving his face
He couldn't see her. And Yuta knew that. But the body didn't need eyes to understand that something in this room was deeply, fundamentally wrong.
Every hair on his father's arms stood up. His breathing shallowed. That ancient part of him that existed before language, before reason , screamed at him to leave the room.
"D–dinner's ready" he said with a slight tremble that clearly shows that he was faking his calm facade and left without waiting for an answer.
Yuta turned back to Rika
"Hey," he said quietly. "He wasn't going to hurt me."
The queen of curses didn't say anything yet the half manifested form she kept showed her stance on the matter.
Even after his father's footsteps faded downstairs, her attention was held at the door.
This wasn't a one time thing and yuta knew that. After all Rika orimoto's original counterpart did cause his parents to fear him..
☀️☀️☀️☀️
The escalation followed its own logic.
Anyone who entered his space his room, the narrow hallway outside it, the small radius that Rika had apparently decided belonged to him found themselves suddenly, inexplicably needing to be somewhere else.
His mother stopped bringing him milk before bed. His father's evening check-ins became shorter, less frequent then nonexistent.
The house rearranged itself around him without anyone acknowledging that it was happening.
Yuta tried talking her about it but it was all a waste of time. Rika was convinced that everyone else was a threat to him.
His words were wasted and he feared he might need to use force to actually subdued her... For now he hoped she wouldn't resort to physical threats.
Because he didn't have an answer to that .
The rationality he'd seen in her that first night , the careful thoughtful child who had explained cursed energy like she was translating something precious was still there.
But it flickered now. Came and went. Some days she was entirely herself, soft and gentle and almost peaceful. Other days she was something older and less patient, and the cold that radiated from her carried an edge it hadn't before.
There was this oppressive feeling of darkness that he was sure she shouldn't have and he blamed himself for it.
Of course he did, after all sunny spent most of his life thinking everything was his responsibility
This wasn't even that difficult , he was the one she was bound to, the one whose grief fed her, the one who hadn't figured out how to stabilize her yet. Whatever she was becoming, he was the variable causing such change.
The inevitable confrontation came on a Thursday morning.his parents had called him to the dining room .
The both of them sat together directly facing him as if it was a interrogation session and he wasn't that far off from the truth.
His parents called him to the living room after dinner — both of them, sitting together on the couch in the deliberate way that meant this was planned. His father's hands were clasped. His mother's eyes were red at the edges.
Yuta sat across from them and waited.
"We need to talk about what's been happening," his father said.
"I know," Yuta said.
His father blinked clearly not expecting that. He pressed on. "Strange things. In the house. Since the accident..." He paused. "Since Rika."
"I know..." Yuta said again as if deciding an important matter to discuss.
His mother leaned forward. "Yuta. You can tell us anything. Whatever you saw that night, whatever you think happened—"
"She's still here," he Said loudly enough for them to hear, too loud actually yet the words seems to Fall on deaf ears .
Silence. Absolute silence. The kind that could make any moment feel uncomfortable.
"Rika" he continued, keeping his voice even. "She didn't leave. She's still here and she's protecting me and I know it's frightening but she won't hurt you as long as—"
That's enough." His father's voice came out sharper than intended. He softened immediately, reaching forward. "Yuta. Grief can make us believe things. After trauma our minds—"
"She is standing right behind me as we speak " he pointed to an empty space and immediately both parents felt the specific and sourceless wrongness of a presence that had no right to exist in the room.
His father's jaw tightened and His mother pressed her hands together as she prayed loudly this time .
Three days later a priest arrived.
He was an elderly man with a sea of wrinkles. He dressed in a black and gold robe with golden stripes tracing it vertically .
His calm and reserved demeanor showed that he had an air of authority and wisdom of someone who had performed exorcisms on houses that had nothing wrong with them for thirty years.
He carried ofuda and a wooden staff and the quiet confidence of an expensive
professional.
He only lasted 3 minutes...
Yuta hurriedly launched downstairs the moment he heard the commotion and felt Rika's presence.
He coated himself with cursed energy and prepared to protect his family only for him to be confused even more.
The little child was sure he heard someone strange screaming and even running for his life yet he only saw two ofuda talisman were stuck to the ceiling and wooden staff that was in three pieces.
The priest had already left yet the trauma from his first actual supernatural activity, made him forget to ask for a payment. Or maybe he didn't forget but chose to stay away from that family.
Back in the house Rika hovered in front of her beloved, clearly expecting praise
" Yuta, did you see. That man was coming for you"
The boy was too stunned by her actions that he couldn't answer. Turning back to his parents he found them frozen in fear .
They stood as far as possible , trembling against the Cold wall. Yet their fear was aimed at him... Their own son...
He looked at them with regretful eyes and said apologetically " I am sorry mom, dad... Let's go Rika" he patted her head and went back to his room.
This simple act gave the vengeful spirit a bliss she would cherish and his parents a horrifying realization that caused them to stop trying completely.
Later that same day Yumi found him meditating on top his bed refining his ce control.
She slipped into his room with the particular stealth of a younger sibling who had been practicing not being noticed .
the door opened just wide enough, her footsteps careful on the floorboards she knew creaked.
Yuta clearly sensed he
She was nine. Small for her age, with their mother's eyes and a gap between her front teeth that she was still growing into. She crossed the room without hesitation and sat down beside him on the floor with the easy confidence of someone who had decided not to be afraid.
Rika's cold intensified slightly but the glare yuta sent her way made her retreat immediately
"Hey," Yumi said in a hushed tone indicating she doesn't want to be caught by their parents.
"Hey" Yuta replied In his normal voice which seemed to make her afraid.
"Shhhh, don't talk so loud or they will hear us. ". After making sure he will be less loud she got to the point directly
"Mom's crying again."
"I know."he nodded solemnly feeling the constant fluctuation of cursed energy.
She was quiet for a moment, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "Is it going to get better?"
He looked at his sister. Nine years old and asking the question that adults in this house had stopped asking because they already knew the answer they were afraid of.
They even tried to separate them from each other, but he couldn't blame them for an action he would have took.
"Yeah," he nodded to her with a promise he wasn't sure he could keep.It wasn't entirely a lie more like a promise he couldn't keep for now...
She leaned against his shoulder. Rika didn't retreat but she didn't didn't do anything either. Some part of her, beneath the grief and the slow erosion of rationality, recognized what this was.
He let Yumi stay until she fell asleep against him, then carried her back to her room. Yuta stood in her doorway for a moment.
Then he made a decision, to start leaving before dawn.The forest at the edge of the city was thin and unremarkable the kind of place that existed between urban sprawl and actual wilderness, forgotten by both.
But cursed spirits gathered in forgotten places. Negative emotions pooled in spaces nobody tended.
He encountered grade 4 mostly sometimes a a couple grade 3 would be there. Just some small fry , incredibly weak and incapable of forming a single thought
He moved through them with a practicality that had nothing to do with technique and everything to do with Sunny a man who had worked jobs that broke his body and will, who had learned to conserve energy, to solve problems with the least friction possible.
He reinforced his hands with cursed energy and hit things until they stopped moving.
It wasn't elegant.But it worked.
The violence part came naturally in a way that surprised him the first time and didn't surprise him at all after that.
Yuta had never been a violent person and neither was sunny.
But Sunny had also spent nineteen years swallowing things that deserved to be hit. Turns out the body knew what to do with that pent up frustration.
Every morning he would wake up before his parents with a single word in his mind " train
Training in the forest. Training in his room. Cursed energy refinement . learning the difference between flooding his body with it and actually controlling the flow, the pressure, the density.
Learning reinforcement properly, not the blunt instrument version but the precise kind, where he could strengthen a single finger without the energy bleeding into his whole hand.
He was developing at a fast rate, absurdly fast if You think about it . Here was a kid with no actual teacher doing things that prodigies would find hard.
But unlike a kid trained in a clan , he didn't have that much luxury. There was that door that is yet to open.
But what door is he talking about?
The first time he found it was completely by accident. Deep in meditation , the kind that took over half an hour to achieve and felt like falling slowly
He'd returned to the void. The dark ocean of cursed energy he'd touched that first night, vast and churning and dense beyond anything he'd expected from an eleven year old's body.
The door was simply there...
With an old wooden design reminiscent of sleek European architecture combined with Edo period type of carvings.
The out of place piece of art stood all alone .
No wall to support it and nothing behind it.
He'd approached it that first time with his heart hammering and pushed.
Nothing.
He'd pushed harder. Thrown his shoulder against it. Tried to flood it with cursed energy, tried to find a handle, tried to go around it.
Nothing, every single time he was met with nothing.Something on the other side held it.Not locked , held.
There was a difference. A lock was mechanical, a thing to be picked or broken. This was something pressing back against him with a patience that made his own effort feel embarrassing
He returned to it every morning after the forest.Every morning it didn't open.
On the nineteenth day he stopped pushing
Sitting down in front of it instead, cross legged on nothing, in the middle of the dark ocean, and started working his brain overtime.
Cursed techniques.
He knew the theory. Had consumed everything available about jujutsu sorcery through the wiki and his own years of reading ... Yeah there's a jujutsu wiki mostly filled with normal people yet there was some interesting stuff
He absorbed everything, the mechanics, the principles, the underlying logic. Cursed techniques weren't learned. They weren't trained into existence. They were innate, written into the sorcerer before birth.
The soul is the blueprint. A saying he once read and treated as philosophical rather than practical knowledge.
" The shape of a person's hearts determines the shape of what they can do."
He sat down mumbling like a madman trying to figure out a puzzle .
What's the shape of yuta okkotsu's soul.... A katana...
The moment he tried to imagine yuta's soul he could only visualize a katana. Not any katana, but the one yuta used in the manga the ones that filled his domain authentic mutual love with it's presence .
That felt right yet the image gradually shifted. The katana blurred. Changed. Became a nodachi, then a European longsword, then something curved and foreign that he almost recognized but couldn't name.
Then something he'd seen in a story he'd read at seventeen on a night shift between deliveries Gram, the dragonslayer.
Then Excalibur. Then Enma. Then a blade with no name that felt older than any of them.
The images flooded his mind one after the other .
A flood of blood and steel
Unknown to Death,
Nor known to Life.
He instinctively tried to call upon yuta's unique domain architecture but what greeted him wasn't it.
A hill... An endless Sandy hill with a grey sky just as vast.
Thousands of blades driven into the earth in every direction, a graveyard of swords stretching to every horizon
The recognition hit him like cold water sudden and total and so obvious he almost laughed at himself for not seeing it sooner. Sunny had loved this story.
Had read it a dozen times, had understood it in the specific way you understand something that was written for you.
A reality marble.
Not Yuta Okkotsu's domain.
His.
The door wasn't resisting him because he wasn't strong enough.
It was resisting him because he'd been knocking wrong.
He been looking at it as if yuta was a fictional character.
He was Sunny and is yuta now. Both of them are real , he knows that because he experienced both lives.
He stood up and looked at the door that slightly changed. Not physically but like a feeling. The closet feeling of freedom like his shackles had been broken.
Taking a deep breath to calm his growing excitement he reached to the door and pushed it open.
"Trace on"