The void wasn't black. That was the first thing I realized, or rather, the first thing I remembered realizing. It was a non-color—a static, shimmering absence of everything that made sense. I didn't have a body, or if I did, it was currently out of order. I was just a point of consciousness, a flickering spark in a basement with no walls.
I knew I was sixteen. Or I had been. The number felt significant, like a high score on a game I'd been forced to quit halfway through. I couldn't remember my mother's face, my favorite food, or the street I lived on, but I could remember the exact mechanics of a Bankai and the convoluted timeline of the Fate series.
Priorities, right?
'Am I dead?' I thought. The thought didn't carry the weight of terror it probably should have. It felt more like an observation. 'I'm definitely dead. This is the part where the tunnel of light shows up, or a guy in a suit tells me I've been mismanaged by the celestial HR department.'
"You're surprisingly close on the HR comment," a voice echoed. It didn't come from a direction; it just existed inside the static. "Though I prefer the term 'Architect of Recursive Cycles.' 'God' is a bit too... ecclesiastical for my taste."
A figure coalesced out of the shimmer. It wasn't a bearded old man or a burning bush. It looked like a teenager wearing a lab coat over a hoodie, sitting cross-legged on a chair that wasn't there. His eyes were like looking into a kaleidoscope of dying stars.
"You," I said, my voice sounding like it was vibrating through water. "You're the one in charge of this... nothing?"
"In charge? No. I just watch the wheels turn," the Being said, leaning forward with a smirk that felt both ancient and incredibly punchable. "And you, kid, are a bit of a statistical anomaly. You died at sixteen. Very tragic. Very 'coming-of-age movie.' But you've accumulated just enough karma—and I mean barely enough, like, 'rounding up from a 0.4' enough—to warrant a choice. Usually, souls just get tossed back into the blender to be repurposed as a golden retriever or a particularly ambitious head of lettuce. But you? You get a second go. With perks."
I felt a surge of something—not hope, but a cold, calculating interest. "Any world I want?"
"Within reason. Don't ask for a world where you're an omnipotent god who breathes galaxies. I have a budget," he replied, checking a non-existent watch.
"Jujutsu Kaisen," I said instantly.
The Being paused. The kaleidoscope eyes shifted to a deep, bloody red. "The world of curses? Really? You know the mortality rate there is essentially 'one hundred percent if you aren't a protagonist,' right? It's a meat grinder designed by a sadistic cat."
"I know," I said, the memories of the manga flooding back. The tragedy, the visceral nature of the power system, the absolute peak of sorcery. "I want to go there. But I'm not going in as a 'side character A' who gets turned into a human pretzel by a Grade 1 curse in the first ten minutes."
"Fair enough. Your karma buys you three boons. Make them good, because once you're in, the 'Architect' doesn't do refunds."
I took a mental breath, organizing the data in my head. If I was going into the world of Sukuna and Kenjaku, I needed more than just 'talent.' I needed to be a biological cheat code.
"First," I started, my voice sharpening. "I want a physiology like a Death Painting Womb. Specifically, like Choso. I want the ability to convert my cursed energy into blood, and I want my body to be a hybrid of human and curse. No more dying from blood loss, and no more running out of fuel for blood techniques."
The Being raised an eyebrow. "Blood Manipulation as a baseline? Clever. It's a versatile foundation. Done."
"Second," I continued, "I want the capacity to hold three distinct Cursed Techniques. Usually, the brain fries if you try to cram more than one or two into it—unless you're a certain thousand-year-old brain jumper. I want the hardware to handle three."
"Greedy," the Being chuckled. "But technically possible within the 'karma budget.' You'll have three slots. What else?"
"The Six Eyes," I said.
The void seemed to groan. The Being's smirk vanished. "The Six Eyes are a localized phenomenon tied to the Star Religious Synod and the Fate of the Six Eyes. Satoru Gojo currently holds them. You're asking for a cosmic imbalance."
"I want a copy," I clarified. "And I want to be able to turn them off. I don't want to spend my life wearing a blindfold or burning out my brain 24/7. I need the efficiency. I need to be able to see the flow of cursed energy at an atomic level to make the most of those three techniques."
The Being sighed, rubbing his temples. "Fine. A 'toggled' version of the Six Eyes. But understand this, kid: the world is a system. When you drop a boulder into a pond, the splash is proportional. By entering that world with that level of power, the 'Heavens' will compensate. Curses will become more frequent. They will be stronger. The 'balance' will tilt, and the world will become a much more dangerous place just to justify your existence. You sure?"
"The world is already a dumpster fire in JJK," I said. "I'm just bringing a bigger fire extinguisher."
"Arrogant. I like it," the Being said. He stood up, and the void around us began to spin. "Now, lineage. Where are we dropping you? Zenin? Kamo? Gojo? Pick a clan and deal with the politics."
I thought about it. The Zenin were a den of vipers. The Kamo were stifling traditionalists. The Gojo clan was basically just Satoru and a bunch of sycophants.
"Neither," I said. "I want a normal family. No direct ties to the Great Clans. I don't want to be a pawn in some 'clan head's' long-term scheme before I can even tie my shoes. Give me a clean slate. An orphan, maybe? With enough money left behind that I don't have to spend my time working a part-time job."
"A trust-fund orphan. Classic," the Being mocked. "Done. Now, for the fun part. The techniques. You asked for three slots, but you didn't specify which ones. I'm feeling whimsical. Let's let the Will of Choice decide."
A massive wheel, easily the size of a skyscraper, manifested out of the static. It was divided into dozens of thin slivers, each inscribed with the name of a Cursed Technique. I felt my heart—or the conceptual idea of it—thud against my ribs.
I looked at the list as it blurred past:
Infinity
Ten Shadows
Idle Transfiguration
Cleave/Dismantle
Ratio Technique
Tool Manipulation
Sky Manipulation
Comedian
Boogie Woogie
Cursed Spirit Manipulation
Construction
Projection Sorcery
Private Pure Love Train
G-Pen
Straw Doll Technique
Black Bird Manipulation
Auspicious Beast Summon
"Wait, Comedian?" I blurted out. "If I get Comedian, I'll literally just be a reality warper who doesn't know he's a reality warper."
"Spin the wheel, kid," the Being commanded, his voice booming with a newfound authority.
I stepped forward. My hand gripped the edge of the wheel. It felt cold, like frozen iron. I gave it a massive heave.
The wheel spun with a sound like a thousand screams and whispers. My eyes—those new, latent Six Eyes—tried to track it, but the "Will of Choice" was moving faster than causality itself.
It slowed.
Clack... clack... clack...
It stopped on Projection Sorcery.
"The Zenin speed-cheat," I muttered. "The 24-frames-per-second rule. It's high-risk, but the speed ceiling is insane."
"Not bad," the Being said. "Again."
I spun the wheel again. My mind was racing. If I had Projection Sorcery, I needed something with high output or utility. I wanted Infinity. I wanted the Ten Shadows.
The wheel slowed down, passing Idle Transfiguration (I winced) and Ratio. It landed on Construction.
"Construction?" I almost tripped. "The Mai Zenin technique? It's the most energy-inefficient technique in history! Creating matter from nothing is a death sentence for your CE reserves."
"Normally, yes," the Being pointed out with a snide grin. "But you have the Six Eyes and a Death Painting physiology. Your efficiency is near-perfect, and your energy pool is massive. You could build a fortress while your opponents are still trying to manifest a dagger. Think outside the box, kid."
I grumbled, realizing he was right. Construction in the hands of someone with infinite-adjacent efficiency was terrifying. I could create Cursed Tools on the fly.
"Last one," I said, my voice trembling slightly. This was the big one.
I spun the wheel with everything I had. I watched it pass Cleave. I watched it pass Infinity. My soul was screaming for Blood Manipulation, but I remembered my first boon.
The wheel stopped.
Cursed Spirit Manipulation.
The void went silent. Even the Being looked a bit impressed.
"Suguru Geto's crown jewel," the Being whispered. "The ability to consume and command the very things that are going to be hunting you. You really are going to be a problem for the balance of that world."
I stared at the three results. Projection Sorcery. Construction. Cursed Spirit Manipulation. I was a one-man army. I could move at subsonic speeds, create weapons out of thin air, and command a legion of monsters.
"I really wanted Blood Manipulation as a core slot," I admitted, looking down at my conceptual hands. "If I'm a Death Painting, it feels wrong not to have the Kamo heritage."
"Oh, don't pout," the Being said, waving a hand dismissively. "Consider this a bonus for being a Death Painting: Blood Manipulation is essentially 'hard-coded' into your biology. It's not a Cursed Technique in the traditional sense for you; it's an instinct. You'll have it as a fourth, natural technique. It won't even take up one of your three brain slots. Happy?"
I felt a grin spread across my face—a wide, jagged thing. "Yeah. I'm happy."
"Good. Now, logistics. You want to be ten years old? Same age as the vessel of the King of Curses, Yuji Itadori?"
"Yes," I said. "It gives me six years to train before the main plot kicks off in 2018. Six years to master the Six Eyes, to build a Cursed Spirit arsenal, and to figure out how not to get killed by Sukuna."
"And the location? You mentioned a trust fund. Where is your 'unfortunate' parents' estate?"
"Sendai," I said. "It's where Yuji is. It's quiet enough to stay under the radar of the Jujutsu High higher-ups for a while, but central enough to find plenty of Curses to... recruit."
The Being stood up from his invisible chair. The void began to dissolve into white light.
"Ten years old. Orphan. Sendai. Massive trust fund. Death Painting body. Three—well, four—techniques. And a pair of Six Eyes that you can flick on and off like a lightbulb. You're a monster in the making, kid."
"That's the plan," I said.
"One last thing," the Being said, his voice fading as the light consumed everything. "Since you're so fond of anime and manga, here's a bit of advice: In that world, the ones who win are the ones with the most overwhelming sense of self. Don't just be a fan living in a story. Be the one who writes the ending."
"I'll try not to disappoint your investment," I replied, my voice echoing in the growing brightness.
"Oh, don't worry about me," the Being's voice was the last thing I heard, dripping with sarcasm. "I've got a front-row seat. Try to make the fight scenes pretty, would you?"
Sendai, Japan – 2012
The first thing I felt was the cold.
Not the soul-crushing cold of the void, but the crisp, biting chill of a late autumn morning. The second thing I felt was the weight of a body. My body. It felt heavy, solid, and strangely... full.
I opened my eyes.
The world exploded in a kaleidoscope of information. I let out a choked gasp, clutching my head as millions of tiny needles of data pierced my brain. I could see the dust motes in the air, but I didn't just see them—I saw the atomic friction between them. I saw the flow of electricity in the walls of the room. I saw the faint, shimmering trails of Cursed Energy lingering on the furniture like radioactive soot.
'The Six Eyes,' I realized, my teeth gritted in pain. 'Off! Turn them OFF!'
I focused on the mental "switch" the Being had promised. It took a agonizing few seconds of sheer willpower, but suddenly, the world dimmed. The "noise" receded. The headache subsided into a dull throb.
I was sitting on a plush, oversized bed in a room that screamed "expensive but lonely." It was a modern apartment, minimalist and cold. Large windows looked out over the Sendai skyline.
I stood up, my legs feeling a bit wobbly. I was small. My hands were the hands of a ten-year-old, but when I looked in the mirror in the ensuite bathroom, I didn't see a normal kid.
My hair was a pale, shimmering silver—a side effect of the Six Eyes, no doubt. My eyes, even with the technique "off," were a piercing, unnatural blue, like glacial ice. But it was the feeling under my skin that was the most jarring.
My blood felt... thick. Potent. I could feel it circulating, not just as a biological necessity, but as a reservoir of power.
I reached out a hand toward a glass of water on the counter. I focused on the "Construction" technique. I didn't want to make anything big. Just a small, simple marble.
I felt a drop of my Cursed Energy—a drop that felt like an ocean compared to what a normal sorcerer would have—drain away.
As i began to fous on shape and rembered matrial composition it formed
Ping.
A small, perfectly spherical marble of solid steel dropped into the sink.
I picked it up. It was cold. It was real.
"Construction," I whispered. My voice was higher than I remembered, the voice of a child. "And the energy cost was... negligible."
The Six Eyes, even in their "off" state, provided a passive level of automatic CE optimization that made the "inefficient" Construction technique feel like child's play.
I sat back down on the floor, crossing my legs. I had six years.
I had no parents. The memory of them was a hollow blur, likely a "pre-packaged" history inserted by the Being. A car accident. A legal firm handling the estate. A bank account with more zeroes than a ten-year-old should ever see.
I was alone.
"Alright," I said to the empty, expensive room. "Step one: Don't get noticed by Satoru Gojo. Step two: Find a Grade 4 curse and see how 'Cursed Spirit Manipulation' tastes."
I stood up, a small, silver-haired boy in a vast, empty apartment. The balance of the world had just shifted, and the shadows of Sendai were about to get a lot more interesting.
I walked to the window and looked down at the streets. Somewhere out there, a young Yuji Itadori was probably playing in a park, blissfully unaware of the King of Curses sleeping within the logic of the world.
"See you soon, Yuji,so you soo. The world of sorcery" I murmured, my eyes flashing a brilliant, dangerous blue for a split second. "Try to keep up."