The sun was barely peeking over the skyline when Ren Sato—well, the man now inhabiting Ren Sato's body—forced himself out of bed.
He hadn't slept. Not really. Every time his eyes closed, he saw Mahito's grin. Gojo's blindfold. Sukuna's face stretching over Yuji's skin like a mockery of humanity. The future clawed at the edges of his thoughts with every breath.
But fear wouldn't feed him. And hunger had officially joined the party.
The small fridge in Ren's apartment offered very little—some rice, one egg, and half a bottle of soy sauce. He could cook, thankfully. The body's instincts helped; muscle memory kicked in even when his mind fumbled. He made rice, fried the egg, and scarfed it down while rereading the school schedule pinned to the wall.
"Tokyo Prefectural High School," he muttered. "Doesn't look like Jujutsu Tech, so that's… something."
A normal school. Normal people. Maybe Ren was just some background NPC in this world, totally uninvolved in curses or the occult. Maybe he could live a normal life and—
The radio clicked on.
"…reports of another disappearance late last night. Officials found the victim's phone at the foot of the pedestrian overpass in Shibuya, but no sign of the body…"
He shut it off.
"Nope. No pretending. This is the JJK world. Curses are real. People are dying."
After brushing his teeth and inspecting the borrowed face again—still not his, still uncanny—he pulled on Ren's uniform and stepped out into the street.
Tokyo was… alive.
And yet, every passerby felt like a potential death flag. Every shadow an omen. The man was hyper-aware of it all—his paranoia painted invisible threats everywhere.
At school, things moved too fast.
He found his classroom using a mix of dumb luck and context clues. The teacher didn't question his presence, and no one acted like he didn't belong. That scared him more than anything. Whoever Ren Sato had been, his absence hadn't raised alarms. Was that how little he mattered?
Classmates greeted him with mild nods. One girl—Kanae? Kanako?—asked if he'd done the math homework. He made a vague noise. She rolled her eyes and went back to her phone.
"Ren," a guy called from behind him, "don't forget, you're on cleaning duty after school."
"Yeah," he said quickly, "got it."
He didn't. But he wasn't about to argue with a possibly cannon-fodder character in a cursed timeline.
Classes were a blur. His body seemed to remember enough to copy answers. At lunch, he sat alone and eavesdropped. He needed intel.
"…you hear about that tunnel near Setagaya?"
"Another guy vanished, right? Like, just gone."
"Cursed spirits, dude. I'm telling you."
Most wrote it off as urban legend. But he knew.
This was a sign. A precursor. The slow build-up of cursed energy in forgotten places. The manga had shown it again and again—wherever fear collected, something followed.
By the end of the day, he felt like a soda can left on a stove—rattling, hissing, moments from bursting.
After cleaning duty—sweeping chalk dust while trying not to scream—he wandered home under the dimming sky.
He paused at a convenience store.
He needed supplies. Survival stuff. Just in case.
He grabbed a notepad, pens, a flashlight, bandages, canned food, and matches. It wasn't much, but it gave him control. A little prep never hurt.
As he waited in line, he saw something—someone—out the window.
Across the street. Under the streetlamp.
A woman in white, long hair draped over her face.
No one else reacted. No one saw her.
His blood turned to ice.
The woman tilted her head. Her face twitched.
He didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
And then she was gone.
He dropped the money, grabbed the bag, and bolted. The cashier's annoyed shout faded behind him.
Back in the safety of Ren's apartment, he locked the door. Twice.
Then three times.
He collapsed onto the futon, panting.
That had been a curse. A weak one, maybe. But real.
It was starting.
He needed a plan.
He opened the notebook and began writing.
- Day 1: Arrived. Ren Sato. Normal student. Not a sorcerer.
- No cursed energy that I can feel.
- No training.
- Limited time until the plot kicks in.
- Must identify nearby cursed locations.
- Avoid all canon events.
- Don't die.
He stared at the list, tapping the pen against his lips.
Was it even possible to change things?
Could he warn people? Would they listen?
What if Gojo saw him? Could he see the difference in his soul?
He didn't want to think about that.
Instead, he listed out names. Gojo. Geto. Yuji. Megumi. Nobara. Nanami. Mei Mei. Utahime. Kento.
They were all names in ink right now. But soon…
Soon they'd bleed.
He drew a map from memory—locations of major events. The school. Shibuya. Jujutsu Tech. Death sites. Curse hotspots.
His hand shook by the end of it.
He was shaking.
And suddenly, he laughed.
It wasn't joy. It wasn't relief.
It was absurd.
How the hell had this happened? Why him? He was a loser. A reader. Not a fighter. Not a hero.
And yet, somehow… that letter had chosen him.
No answers.
Just: "Do what you will."
He stood and paced the room. His reflection caught in the window glass.
"Alright," he said to himself. "If this is the game, I'm going to cheat. I know the future. I know the rules. I'll find a way to survive."
He paused.
"No. Not just survive. I'll find a way to change it."
Somewhere deep in the city, a cursed spirit howled.
He didn't hear it. Not yet.
But soon.
Very soon.
He would.