The Multiversal Tourist: 7 (Patreon)

We went back home upon departing from the park.

Mio waved goodbye as she followed her mom elsewhere. While I just walked silently beside my mother as I contemplated what to do. Well, ultimately I had two options.

Vanish, or Explain. The second would take a much longer time and would probably face a lot of resistance.

Of course I might be overthinking.

"Haruto? You're awfully quiet," Hana said, stopping at their front door. He was always quiet, but his pensive expression showed he had something on his mind.

"Did you like Mio?"

"She's fine."

"Was the ice cream okay?"

"It was adequate. I enjoyed it." Haruto replied.

Hana chuckled, ruffling his hair despite his slight instinctive lean away. "You speak like a little professor. Well, I'm glad you had fun. Your father should be home later tonight from his business trip. I'm sure he'll bring you a souvenir."

Haruto nodded, saying nothing.

His father. Takeshi Amari.

A man who worked long hours. Traveled frequently. Always tired when he came home, but never too tired to ask about Haruto's day.

Haruto realized, with mild embarrassment, that he'd never bothered to ask what his father actually did for a living. Some kind of consultant work, he'd gathered from overheard conversations. Something involving assets and logistics.

Not particularly interesting, so he'd never inquired further.

'Should I wait for him?'

The thought settled in his mind. If he was going to explain his departure, it would be more efficient to do it once, with both parents present.

But his father wouldn't be home for hours. And the decision to leave, once made, felt heavy in his chest, demanding acknowledgment.

'I could start with Mother. Ease her into the concept.'

By the time his father arrived, she'd have had time to process. It would make the second conversation smoother. He thought so at least.

"Mom. May I tell you a story?"

"Huh?" She paused, glancing back with mild surprise. "A story? That's new. You usually don't like my bedtime stories."

"It is a theoretical framework I have been... developing."

Hana glanced down, her eyes softening. Haruto rarely initiated "play," and to her, a story was the closest he came to it. "A story? I’d love to hear it."

They had reached the stairway to their apartment at this point.

"Alright. Let me just get the rice started, and then you can tell me."

They entered the house, and she moved efficiently to the kitchen—washing rice, filling the cooker, setting it to cook. Haruto waited patiently, organizing his thoughts.

Once the rice cooker was humming, Hana wiped her hands on a towel and sat at the small kitchen table, gesturing for Haruto to join her.

"Alright, sweetheart. Tell me your story. Is it about your secondary-emotion parasites?"

"In a way," Haruto nodded. "Imagine a world that is identical to this one. The same streets, the same sky, the same ice cream shops. The people are still the same but there's a little extra."

"Ok, go on."

"Well, their emotions are given life."

"Oh. Like Inside Out? The movie we saw last year?" Hana smiled, resting her chin on her palm.

"Not exactly," Haruto corrected. "In this framework, the emotions don't stay inside. Imagine that human biology isn't good at containing emotional energy. When a person feels intense fear, or hatred, or deep-seated resentment, that energy 'leaks' into the atmosphere. Because the universe abhors a vacuum, it gathers that leakage and gives it a physical, semi-intelligent form called cursed spirits."

Hana’s smile faltered. "Spirits? That’s a bit scary, Haruto. Do they hurt people?"

"Inevitably. They feed on the same emotions that birthed them, creating a cycle of trauma. But," Haruto raised a finger, "to maintain the balance, the world also produces individuals who can see and manipulate this energy. They call themselves Sorcerers. They live in the shadows of our skyscrapers, fighting a war that ninety-nine percent of the population, including people like us, doesn't even know exists. They have clans, politics, and a hierarchy based on how well they can kill these entities."

Hana chuckled, though she reached out to tuck a stray hair behind his ear. "You've been reading those manga again, haven't you? It sounds like a very detailed world. So, is there a main character in your story?"

"There is a variable," Haruto said, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "An entity from outside the system is born into a human family. It has ... Unimaginable power that it can't control easily and as such, it chooses to ... observe. Taking an interest in what it feels like to eat ice cream, instead of fight monsters."

Hana giggled.

"Hmm. Eating Ice cream huh? Where have I seen someone like that before?"

How could she not see where this is going. Her son was clearly substituting himself in those fantasy movies he preferred watching but still couldn't get rid of his love for ice cream.

"Alright then. Then tell me what's the moral of this story. You know every story has to have a central theme right? Is it prioritizing protecting your friends and loved ones from danger?"

"I haven't thought of it yet, but I do have a question," Haruto said. "If you found out that this story was true, that the world was much more dangerous and strange than you believed, and the variable was right beside you, what would you do? Would the knowledge be a burden, or would you prefer to keep seeing the world as it appears to be?"

Hana paused, fell into an exaggeratedly contemplative look, and finally laughed before giving her answer.

"I think," she said, reaching out to tweak his nose, "that as long as that 'variable' still liked mint chocolate chip and came home for curry, I wouldn't mind the monsters at all. I’d probably just tell him to be careful not to get his notebook dirty while he was saving the world."

Haruto stared at her for a long moment.

Then he nodded. "That's... a good answer."

Hana smiled and stood, moving back to the kitchen. "Now, let's get dinner started properly. Your father should be home in an hour. Let’s make this the best curry he’s ever had. And maybe we can watch one of those documentaries you like afterward?"

"That would be acceptable."

She laughed, pulling vegetables from the refrigerator.

Haruto fell into thought. 'I wouldn't mind the monsters at all' she said. Of course she probably didn't think he was being for real. Maybe alluding everything to his overactive imagination.

'The reality might be a different scenario,' plus, his intent to leave hadn't been passed through. As for the part about the monsters and saving the world and all, he believed her. Or at least he was giving the benefit of doubt. Just then ... Knock! Knock!

The sound came from the door. "Oh! Check if your dad's home honey." Hana voiced from the kitchen.

Haruto stood up from the kitchen chair. "I'll get it," His small feet padded across the hardwood floor toward the entryway.

He reached for the handle, his mind already calculating the probability of his father returning early. 'Near zero.'

The energy signature on the other end of the door wasn't his. High probability a neighborhood solicitor or a grocery delivery.

He turned the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

Standing on the welcome mat was not his father but rather a woman with vibrant blonde hair and a poorly concealed look of fervor in her eyes.

She wore a casual denim jacket, black jeans and a black inner top.

"Hi there, little guy," she cooed.

'Oh. So she's a sorcerer.' Haruto tilted his head.

The woman leaned in closer, her pupils dilating as she channeled her cursed energy into a focused vocal frequency.

"What don't you do me a favour and go to bed now." she whispered, the cursed energy rippling through the air like a heavy, invisible fog.

Innate Technique: Lullaby. A sophisticated mental interference that bypassed the target's conscious defenses, forcing the brain to dump massive amounts of melatonin and inhibitory neurotransmitters.

The weaker the enemy's cursed energy, the stronger the effect. To a child, it should have been an instant blackout. What would follow was to bag the boy and do the same to the mother in the kitchen.

The next moment however, her expression froze.

In the logic of Jujutsu, techniques without physical phenomenons that directly targeted the soul and mind basically came down to the strength of the recipients cursed energy, requiring a "bridge" between minds or souls.

Against Haruto, whose cursed energy was essentially zero from her perspective but whose consciousness was infinite—the technique found no foothold.

The process was like trying to bridge a gap with a silk thread only to find a supernova on the other side. Haruto's consciousness, while currently anchored in a normal vessel, was far from normal.

The result could be expected. An instantaneous backlash magnified ten-fold.

'What the—'

Her brain, suddenly overwhelmed by the redirected and amplified force of her own Lullaby, caused the thought to die in her throat as her rebounded technique bypassed "drowsy" and went straight to "system failure."

She didn't even have time to gasp before her consciousness was forcibly snuffed out.

Haruto stood perfectly still as the grown woman slumped forward.

Thump.

Haruto blinked. He was currently being used as a human kickstand, his face buried directly into the woman's cleavage as she collapsed against him.

He stood there for a three-second interval, his arms hanging at his sides, before raising an eyebrow.

'Well, this is unexpected.'

She was completely unconscious, breathing deeply like in some magic induced coma.

Haruto pushed her backward gently, extracting himself from the awkward position. He caught her with one hand, supporting her weight easily despite his small frame, and tilted her back to observe her face.

Eyes closed. Breathing steady. Pulse normal.

'Hmm. I guess she really was just that weak.'

He adjusted his grip and gave her a light push

.

She toppled backward, landing in an ungraceful heap on the stairs leading to their door.

"Haruto? Who is it?" Hana called from the kitchen. "Is it your father?"

"No, Mama. Wrong door," he replied while ignoring the body on the porch.

The door closed.

'A Jujutsu sorcerer at my home? Don't tell me I've been discovered...'

His energy fluctuations during his birth had nearly caused widespread destruction. It was np surprise when Jujutsu Sorcerers showed up at the hospital, examining every child in the wards.

Hence Yuta was well aware that the cause of that disturbance was still being sought after.

'This complicates things.' He thought, moving to the kitchen. Then stopped as he expanded his senses.

He felt it. Another cursed energy signature. Stronger than the woman's. Moving fast.

Approaching from the stairwell.

'Huh?'

Haruto turned his head just as—

CRASH!

The door exploded inward, torn completely off its hinges. It hurtled toward him like a battering ram. 'Seriously?' Haruto raised one hand.

The door stopped the instant it touched his fingertips, momentum arrested completely. It hung in the air for a fraction of a second, then clattered to the floor harmlessly.

A man stepped through the doorway.

Mid-thirties. Dark hair, dressed in black tactical clothing. His cursed energy radiated without restraint.

Grade Two, or so it seemed from Haruto's estimate.

His eyes locked onto Haruto, then shifted to the fallen door, then to the unconscious woman sprawled on the stairs outside.

His expression darkened.

"What did you do to her?"