20 years after the death of Himmel the Hero, in the Great Sanft Forest, located in the northern lands
Senken let out a relaxed sigh as he sank into the tub. His mom had recently convinced his dad to upgrade from the wooden basin they had been using to a larger, stone basin that let even his sister, who had stopped growing at a colossal 6'8", to stretch out and enjoy the warm waters.
They still had to heft water from the river to fill it, and now that it was a larger tub they had to heft more, but ever since Heben had almost been killed by the demon Trügen, that hadn't been an issue.
The day following that incident, his mom had decided that if Heben wanted to "talk back like she's grown", she could learn how to defend herself, in case her "little boyfriend" tried anything funny.
Senken had bore witness to just how good his mom was with a staff as she took to training, and then bullying, Heben. Even though it was just a long dowel, meant to help plants grow straight, she wielded it as well as any spearman. Sweeping motions to drive Heben back, precise jabs to open her defense, and the willingness to pivot her grip when Heben eventually got frustrated and tried to close the distance.
It proved an excellent mental exercise in splitting his focus as he attempted to shape smoke into other birds besides a cardinal. He could do a canary, and an owl now, but he had set his eyes on a hummingbird and couldn't figure out how to make its wings move as fast.
It was while he was fine tuning that part of the spell that a shadow loomed over him, and when he looked up he saw the scuffed, sweat soaked visage of his sister giving him a cruel looking grin, now that their mother had opted to give her a "break", having gone inside.
"Senken~," Heben called. "Don't think I forgot why the hell I have to do this anyway."
Senken's eyes narrowed, seeing his sister's shoulder tighten as her body caught up with the impulse she had. She was going to try to hit him. The hummingbird of smoke in his hands flew up, slamming into her face and blinding her, Heben's coughs signaled her deciding not to follow through with that previous impulse as she waved her hand in front of her face, which was now streaked with soot.
In the internum, Senken had stood and walked over to his moms discarded staff, testing it for himself. It was far too tall for him. His mom was only slightly shorter than his sister, and while he was taller than any other kids his age, Senken was still the shortest in the family.
He adjusted his grip accordingly and waited as Heben got her bearings again. Once she realized he was no longer at his self-appointed seating, she rounded on him, hackles raising as she ran at him.
Despite the asskicking their mom had given her, Heben was quick to get her second wind. Senken pulled from the memories of his past life and was able to keep up a decent defense.
For about five seconds, before a sweeping blow caught his guard and lifted him, throwing him across their yard, leaving him tumbling across the dirt, which ended with a crash into the side of their home, alerting their mom.
Of course, Heben got another impromptu "training" session.
So began Senken's combat training, alongside his sister. It was grueling. It wasn't just the spear, but hand to hand as well. Both Heben and their mother were physically gifted, stronger than what one would expect for people of their builds. Sukuna, meanwhile, didn't have that same super strength, but more fists to actually use.
Apparently, mom was related to a line of warriors somewhere out past the forest. She and his dad had gotten together after a one-night stand knocked her up, and his dad, who had been a bit of a scumbag, was asked to take responsibility at spear point.
Speaking of his dad, that logging mill had taken off well. They actually had to use the first few trees to build homes for the woodsmen who came to the town-in-the-making for work. It looked like, aside from once being a scumbag, his dad had a solid grasp on business and logistics.
Uncle Sicher would also benefit with his printing press, if only they knew how to make paper from wood.
Senken reached beneath the water and pulled the plug, hearing the water glug its way out of the stone tub.
He had a recurring habit of spending too long in the bath.
Between farm work, helping the logging mill, spear training, and his own magical self-studies, he had accumulated a fatigue in both his physical and mental faculties.
Drying himself off, Senken then got dressed. His mom and sister were still in the fields; dad was off at the tree line fielding more trees to be cut down.
It was up to him to make dinner, it seemed.
He went to where he knew his parents kept the money, and snagged a handful of silver coins, before leaving for the village.
Despite the physical fatigue leaving him, momentarily, the mental fatigue was still present. He could not stop thinking of how to recreate his technique.
The issue was not imagination, or even belief. He has memories of it working, of cutting multiple futuristic buildings down into nothing. Of launching an arrow of fire and making an explosion that only the greatest of volcanos could compete with.
The issue was the nature of the spell itself. Spells were required to be simplistic in terms of what they fundamentally did. To braid dry grass, but not tie it off. To shape smoke, but only into birds. Complexity didn't matter, only so long as the baseline of what the spell displayed was followed.
Senken rubbed his face as he wandered through the market, grabbing the basics for a good dinner. A roast, tied into an even shape. Carrots and potatoes. A fresh loaf of bread. A whole strudel. A few apples. A second whole strudel.
It was only when Senken had been walking back, struggling to keep the basket from tipping, did he think he may have overspent.
Eventually getting back home, he set the groceries out on their kitchen counter and started eating one of the strudel, even as he looked over his ingredients. He reached under the counter, grabbing a wide pan, and filled the oven with wood so it would get up to temperature.
He stopped, looking into the growing embers of the fire, continuing his train of thought. He could make a spell for each aspect of his technique, to dismantle, to cleave, and to burn. He didn't want that though. One spell. All three techniques. He could bring dismantle and cleave together, but the nature of cutting couldn't equate to his furnace.
Standing here, in his kitchen, however, it clicked. To cut ingredients and cook them. His technique, which he had used to wreak havoc in the Heian Era, was built for cooking. He hadn't even given it much thought until now, the same way one wouldn't to the fact the heart pumps blood; it simply is.
Whether he used his technique for cooking or for killing had never been a matter of concern to him. His technique simply was, and so he used it as pleased him. The philosophy behind it hadn't had any bearing on its function.
But now…
With this epiphany, Senken felt the makings of the spell take form, the sensation eerily the same as technique burnout, the front right of his brain buzzing with the ghost of the memory.
In a moment, Senken lifted a hand and dropped it. Every vegetable was cubed, bursting into equal squares as their skins were shredded into nothing. The roast was removed from its trussing and cut into even portions.
Both of Senken's mouths cracked in smiles, and he laughed out loud, as the first use of his newest spell completed.
[Schrein: A spell to prepare and cook food]