"To understand the meaning of life, you must first understand the fear of death."A line spoken by yours truly—and trust me, I didn't say it for poetic flair. I said it because I died.And the funny thing? It still wasn't the end.
Reincarnation sounds cool until it happens to you. Because the world I woke up in… is the world of Jujutsu Kaisen.
How do I know?Well, as I'm lying here contemplating my existence, there's a moth-like cursed spirit clinging to a street pole about twenty steps away. And right below it stands a man in the classic Tokyo Jujutsu High uniform, preparing to exorcise it like it's just another Tuesday.
Which means one terrifying fact has already been confirmed:
I can see cursed spirits.And to see cursed spirits, you either
possess cursed energy yourself, or
are standing in a place overflowing with it.
And this? This is just a normal Tokyo street.
So congratulations to me, I guess—I have the potential to be a sorcerer. Lucky me.
As for the life I've inherited…I woke up in the body of a fifteen-year-old orphan boy named Ray Star, who lived in a countryside orphanage near Tokyo. A normal kid, normal school, normal life—or he used to have one.
Because Ray died yesterday.On his fifteenth birthday, he awakened a cursed technique so overwhelming that his soul simply couldn't withstand the burden.It shattered.
And I… took his place.
The cursed technique that Ray awakened didn't disappear with him. It was imprinted into the body itself, and when I took over, it carved itself into my soul as well—like a brand I never asked for.
And what did I inherit?
Air Manipulation.
Sounds simple, right? Elegant, even. Except I have no clue how far it goes. I mean, what do you expect from me? To figure out a whole cursed technique in one day and go punch Satoru Gojo in the face by day two?
Yeah, no.Let's start with not dying first.
And now comes the truly difficult part—surviving in a world crawling with curses and walking disasters like Kenjaku and Sukuna.Yeah… not exactly the dream reincarnation scenario.
Sure, I could run away. Another country, fewer sorcerers, fewer horrors trying to chew on my soul—sounds perfect.But there's one tiny problem:
I don't even have enough money for a metro ticket, let alone a plane ride across the ocean. And it's not like I have any skills to earn money either. Unless "recently reincarnated into a cursed-energy-infested universe" counts as a qualification.
Maybe I could fly using my air manipulation?Who knows—maybe I'll figure it out before gravity kills me.
Or… maybe I could steal some money.Definitely an option.A terrible one, but still an option.
Well, since I've somehow ended up with a cursed technique, I should probably learn how to use it.And while I'm at it, I need to figure out cursed energy manipulation too—because the last thing I want is to get murdered by a Grade 3 cursed spirit while taking a peaceful evening stroll.
That kind of stuff is Megumi's department.I have absolutely no intention of joining the "teenage sorcerer suicide squad."Not yet, at least.
Speaking of Megumi… after piecing things together, I'm pretty sure I'm around the same age as Yuta Okkotsu.How do I know?
Simple.I checked the calendar.
No mysterious "voice of the universe," no pop-up window, no omniscient narrator whispering lore into my ear.Just a very normal, very human calendar on the wall.
Honestly, that might be the strangest part so far.
On the way back to the orphanage, I actually caught myself wondering if I should pull a full-on Spider-Man and jump off a building to test my air manipulation.
Then I remembered something important:
I do not have plot armor.
So yeah—I chose life.For now.
....
The fluorescent lights in the hallway buzzed faintly as Nanami Kento made his way toward the briefing room. The noise wasn't loud, but it dug at the dull ache forming behind his temples — the kind of headache that came from too many nights spent working past the point of reason.
He opened the door, and the low murmur of voices died instantly.
"Nanami-san," one of the assistants said, stepping forward with a thin folder held tightly in both hands."We… have an incident."
Nanami accepted the file and flipped it open.
A grainy photograph stared up at him — a warped mass of shadows and twisted limbs wrapped around a street lamp on an empty rural road. Even through the poor resolution, the cursed energy was palpable, like a pressure trying to seep out of the image itself.
"Semi–special grade," Nanami murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
"Yes," the assistant replied, unnerved. "It manifested last night. Completely out of nowhere. No buildup of negative emotions, no minor curses detected beforehand. The area should have been clean."
Nanami's brows drew together.
"That's… unusual."
"Extremely."The assistant swallowed. "The energy spike was so violent it shorted out the local monitoring equipment. Headquarters wants immediate investigation and exorcism. There's fear it may evolve if left alone."
Nanami closed the folder with a soft snap."Of course it may evolve. That is the nature of curses."
He walked toward the window, resting a hand lightly on the sill as he looked down at the faint grid of city lights. A semi–special grade in a quiet, insignificant area… without warning… without emotional residue… without anything?
No.Curses didn't simply appear.They were born from people — from their pain, their grief, their hatred.
This one should not exist.
"Do we have any theories?" he asked without turning.
"None that fit," the assistant admitted. "Some speculate a powerful sorcerer may have died there recently. Others think someone tampered with a cursed object. But we've found no evidence of either."
Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the headache pulse harder.
"A spontaneous formation of a semi–special grade…" he said quietly."That kind of unpredictability is exactly what we don't need."
Unpredictability meant escalation.Escalation meant casualties.Casualties meant overtime.
He exhaled slowly and adjusted his glasses.
"Prepare the site. I'll depart immediately. Ensure all civilians are cleared from the perimeter."
"Yes, Nanami-san. But—there's one more thing."
Nanami turned, expression sharpening just a little.
The assistant hesitated before continuing, voice lowered as though afraid the information itself might bite.
"The cursed energy readings weren't stable. They spiked violently at first, but then… they dropped. Almost instantly. As if—"
"As if the source changed," Nanami finished.
The assistant nodded. "Exactly. The signature shifted, then vanished altogether. We don't know what to make of it."
Nanami looked down at the closed folder in his hand, the edges of the paper cutting sharply against his fingers. A curse born of fluctuating energy? A curse influenced by something external? Or perhaps…
Someone had interfered.
A faint chill ran down his spine — not fear, but a quiet sense of recognition. This was the sort of anomaly that preceded bigger problems.
"Send me every detail you have," he said. "And keep monitoring that region. If anything else changes, I want to know immediately."
"Yes, sir."
Nanami stepped out into the night. The air was cool, crisp, carrying the faint smell of rain. He tightened his grip on the folder, the weight of it somehow heavier than paper should be.
"Let's hope," he murmured into the darkness,"this isn't the beginning of something worse."
But even as he said it, he felt the truth settle in his chest:
He didn't believe it.Not for a second.