yuta okkotsu

The Culling Games were drowned in chaos. Flames licked the crumbled remains of buildings—a twisted mural of destruction wrought by cursed spirits running rampant. It had turned Japan into chaos. You had your own reasons for entering the game, your own goals, and unfortunately, that meant eventually crossing paths with them.

Jujutsu High students. Japanese sorcerers. They were one of the strongest you'd ever met. Yuta Okkotsu—special grade sorcerer, student of Tokyo Jujutsu High, the one known for fighting alongside Rika. You had heard of him, of course you did. But had you planned to fight him? Certainly not.

Despite not having a plan, your objective was simple. Survive and win. So far, your plan was going well. You stood in the middle of sendai, with no clear objective. You were just trying to survive when a suffocating wave of cursed energy washed over you, freezing you suddenly. You blinked, turning around and facing the enormous figure in front of you. Its monstrous frame towered above the ruined street, watching you without moving.

“…Rika.”

The gentle voice broke the silence.

The pressure immediately eased.

Yuta approached with his katana lowered, stopping several feet away so he wouldn’t appear threatening. His expression carried neither suspicion nor hostility. Only quiet concern.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “She thought you were going to attack.” He looked at you, noticing you were foreign. From your clothes, to your skin color, and to your eyes, you certainly weren't japanese. Matter of fact, you were central asian. He didn't know who you were, having never heard of you before.

“I won’t hurt you,” he continued after a moment, sensing you wouldn't reply. “As long as you don’t attack me… or anyone else… we don’t have a reason to fight.”

It was such a simple statement. No intimidation. But you weren't believing his words. This was the culling games, everyone was fighting.

"Everyone has something to fight for." You reply softly, your accent prominent as you lifted your blade and stared at him. For a moment, everything went still.

Rika had a very distinctive way of calling Yuta’s name.

“YUUUUUUUTAAAAAA!”

You blinked, startled by the dramatic drawl of his name as you turned around, facing the shinigami—for a second, you forgot you were in the culling games, letting out a laugh of disbelief. You'd heard that his shinigami was protective of him, but this was new.

Yuta paused, his eyes narrowing gently as he looked at you with the resigned expression of someone who had already accepted defeat.

“…Please don’t do that.” He muttered softly.

Rika didn't like being mocked.