Warm sunlight kissed his cheeks. Tsukimi blinked, adjusting to the brightness of the park. Birds chirped overhead, a gentle melody in the crisp autumn air. The scent of fallen leaves and fresh grass filled his small lungs. He sat nestled in a stroller, a blanket tucked over his legs, observing. Riko, a whirlwind of energy, chased a bright red ball across the open field. Her laughter, pure and unrestrained, carried on the breeze. His adoptive parents watched her with soft smiles. Father, a strong, quiet man, held Mother's hand. Mother, with her gentle eyes, pointed out a soaring kite. Tsukimi absorbed every detail, cataloging their expressions, their habits. Months had passed since his rebirth. Months of silent observation, of internal training. He could now manipulate small, marble-sized spheres of cursed energy with precision. He could sense faint cursed presences, a growing sensitivity to the world's hidden horrors. Every day, his resolve solidified. Riko's safety was paramount. Her innocent joy, her bright future – he would guard it with everything he had, even if it meant becoming a monster himself. Toddling over, Riko’s ball bounced near his stroller. She bent down, her small fingers reaching. Her bright smile crinkled her eyes, a sight that still twisted a knot in his chest. This was real. She was real. A flicker. A distortion in the air, just beyond Riko. Tsukimi’s breath hitched. His eyes, sharper than any normal child’s, caught the subtle shift. Movement. A low-grade curse, formless and indistinct, like a smudge of oil smoke against the backdrop of the trees. It pulsed with a faint, malevolent aura, drawn by the diffuse negative emotions of the park's crowd. It drifted, slow and insidious, towards Riko. It was weak, barely a blip on the jujutsu radar, but for a defenseless child, it was a threat. His blood ran cold. The phantom sensation of helplessness, a memory from his past life, clawed at him. Not again. Never again. A primal roar surged within him, silent and furious. His infinite cursed energy, usually so meticulously controlled, flared. His tiny fists clenched, knuckles white. He had seen Gojo Satoru annihilate curses with casual flicks of his wrist. He had witnessed Sukuna's devastating dismantle. His mind, even in panic, recalled the fundamental principle: release. Pure, unadulterated energy expulsion. A searing heat erupted from his small body. Not a conscious technique, not a copied exact replica, but an instinctive, overwhelming burst of raw cursed power. It was an unfiltered discharge, a violent expulsion of the limitless energy that flowed through him. The air around the curse shimmered, then warped. A compressed wave, invisible to normal eyes, slammed into the shadowy entity. It didn't scream. It didn't resist. It simply ceased to be. Vaporized. A faint hiss. A wisp of smoke, gone in an instant. Nothing remained but a small, circular patch of scorched earth where the curse had hovered. The smell of ozone lingered for a split second, then dissipated into the autumn air. His body sagged. The burst had been tremendous, far more than he intended. The adrenaline, the pure, unadulterated terror for Riko, had overridden his control. He needed to cover this. Immediately. His mind, even as his heart hammered against his ribs, snapped into action. Panic was a luxury he couldn't afford. Exposure was unthinkable. A childish wail tore from his throat. Not a real cry of pain, but a practiced sound of distress. He pitched forward, a controlled fall from the stroller. A gasp from his mother. He landed softly on the grass, a feigned stumble. His small hands instinctively braced him. He let out another whimper, rubbing his eyes with his fists, ensuring his face was hidden. “Tsukimi-chan!” Mother rushed over, her face a mask of concern. Father was right behind her, his usually calm demeanor replaced with worry. “Are you hurt, sweetie?” Mother scooped him up, checking his limbs, his head. She peppered his cheek with kisses, her touch a comforting anchor in the storm of his internal panic. He shook his head, burying his face in her shoulder. He made a small, sniffly sound. A perfect, innocent performance. His parents, relieved, chuckled softly. “Just a little tumble, huh, big boy?” Father ruffled his hair. Their attention was entirely on him, just as he intended. The scorched patch of earth went unnoticed. Still, a cold dread settled deep in his stomach. He had acted instinctively. Unconsciously. That raw power, that uncontrollable force, was a double-edged sword. He could protect Riko, yes, but at what cost? What if he couldn't control it next time? What if he hurt someone else? This world was far more dangerous than he remembered. He wasn't just a fan with foreknowledge; he was a living, breathing weapon, and that weapon had just fired on its own. The paranoia began to coil around his thoughts, a venomous snake. He watched Riko from the safety of his mother's arms. She had moved on from her ball, now exploring a small cluster of rocks near where the curse had been. Her small fingers picked up one, then another, examining them with intense focus. His gaze snapped to the scorched patch. The evidence of his uncontrolled power. It was small, discreet, blending with the natural variations of the park ground. But Riko was heading right for it. “Look, Tsukimi-kun!” Riko's voice chirped, pulling him from his anxious reverie. She skipped back towards them, a triumphant grin on her face. She held out a small, dark object in her palm. It was the charred rock, still warm to the touch, a remnant of the destructive force he had unleashed. Riko, giggling and unaware, picked up a small, charred rock where the curse stood, showing it to him with innocent joy.

First Spark, First Lie