Title: Nevertheless

Disclaimer: I do not own Jujutsu Kaisen.

AN: Hey guys I'm back lol (There is a slightly longer AN at the end of the chapter.) The beginning of this chapter was actually for a different fanfic called, Under the Maple Tree but it was a hot mess with many flaws so I scrapped it. I instead rewrote it for this Jujutsu Kaisen fanfic. Anyways, the fandom is still pretty new and there aren't many OC/SI stories for JJK so I thought of trying. Also her name is pronounced [Nat-su-eh] not [Nat-su]. There will be romance but it will be slow burn. Lastly, the first three chapters will be slow but important in setting up the oc's character so please bear with me. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

This is not my body. Not my home. Not my world. Not mine. I, Reina no— Natsue Kamo, am currently living within an anime called Jujutsu Kaisen.

Imagine my surprise when I worked that out.

Okay. When I say it like that, I do admit I sound insane. But it was the truth. I guess here is my attempt at explaining what I think happened.

You see, my name wasn't always Natsue. It was Reina… Reina something. Yes, haha you can call me stupid for forgetting my own name, I hardly care but that was the proof that I was slowly losing the memories of my past life. Anyways, I was serving in the military, part of the first marine division and was deployed… well that hardly matters now. Let's just say to a foreign country to assist in cutting off the enemy's supply line, forcing them to surrender.

If I can put it lightly, war was a disgusting, ugly thing. Every heinous act of humanity bares itself in front of you. Sometimes without warning. And that was what happened to me.

I was one of the few women who were enlisted in combat and served in the assault amphibious vehicles. My duty was to land the marines' surface assault elements and their equipment from the ships to the beaches.

Every time I hit those shores, my fellow comrades and I would be risking our lives as the beaches shook with bombs, fighter planes, and the most feared: snipers. The waters dyed red and the beaches were littered not with umbrellas or beach towels, but with the fallen marines. I was in hell.

It was one of these trips to the shores where in a split second, everything changed forever. One moment, I was listening to my officer relaying our next orders and with a deafening screech of an explosion, I found myself lying awkwardly on the ground.

My breathing became labored and it was the only thing I could hear as I peered around my surroundings. All of my comrades, dead. The commanding officer, dead. Then noise boomed back into my ears and the pain— the pain was surprisingly bearable. Either I was unscathed or my body was in so much pain that it ceased to feel. Judging from the state of my comrades, it's the latter.

I slowly angled my face to my right where the explosion came from. A heavy artillery shell that landed in front of the vehicle had exploded, sending shrapnel to all directions. There was no way I wasn't hit with a piece.

When I finally found my voice, I called for a medic.

"Medic! Medic!" I uttered, my own voice sounding distant and alien to me. "Please, anyone!"

Sure enough, I hear the rapid shuffling of the red stained sand and a not so familiar man with his combat medical badge sewed carefully within his uniform hover around me. He quickly assessed me, opening up my uniform and bulletproof vest and he paled.

He swallowed hard. "Oh darn… looks like you got a little splinter on your side."

He was trying to calm me.

One look at his face, and I knew. I knew I wasn't going to make it.

"Well, tell you what." His voice wavered. "That isn't too bad. Tell you what I'm going to do. I'll give you a couple of shots here and it'll take that pain away. You don't have to worry."

I nodded. It's funny how even at my last moments, his comforting words seemed to calm me. I knew from the number of shots he administered, that it was lethal enough to put me to eternal sleep.

A hell of a thing to say, to put a person to eternal sleep.

And slowly the thunderous roar of my old world began to fade and the reassuring words of the medic who tried saving my life also ceased. Thus, my story comes to an end.

Or so I thought.

A light had feathered its way into the lid of my eyes, making my face scrunch in annoyance and I felt a soft breeze warming me. It was quiet. No screaming from the dying, no howling of the bombs and shells being shot off, not even the flinging of bullets were ringing at my ears.

I slowly cracked open an eye, a mixture of anxiety and fear knotting against my stomach. I immediately began surveying my surroundings and um… this isn't a hospital ship. Since I was conscious, I assumed that I somehow survived and was being treated for my wounds but the room told me otherwise.

It's safe to say that the room was like those traditional Japanese style washitsu rooms with tatami mats as the flooring. Everything seemed to be made out of wood and had translucent-paper sliding doors called the shoji (I think that's what they were called.) How do I know all of this? Before my service, I was deployed to Japan and during my break I would take time to learn about the culture and language. The metal frame of the bed I was resting on, the alarm clock, and the dressing mirror were the only pieces of evidence of the modern world. If I hadn't seen those items, I probably thought I time traveled back to feudal Japan. The room was also meticulously designed with expensive items such as porcelain vases and some parts of the walls were decorated with insanely detailed paintings. Which led me to believe that the owner of this room or building was from a privileged background.

I was moving on to the next part of the room, when I snapped my head back to the dressing mirror, taking a glimpse of myself. I couldn't see my reflection very well so I pushed myself up to a degree until I felt pain. An intense amount of pain where my left rib was located. I hissed in agony, immediately plopping back down to the bed. Considering the explosion, I'm surprised the pain wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It was like a sharp jab that'd fade into a dull pounding afterwards.

I tried squirming my body, adjusting my movements to where it won't inflict pain on my ribs and slowly moved to the direction where the dressing mirror was. The dressing mirror was quite a distance away as this was a spacious room and I'm glad that it is somewhat across from the bed. After adjusting my body, I slowly and carefully raised my body to take a glimpse of my reflection—

Holy shit, this is not my face. The face that was staring back at me from the mirror was rounder, chubbier with onyx eyes and a paler complexion. The face staring back at me was a child's face. And my hair… why is it black? It was a very common hair color except, I didn't have black hair and… my hands were so tiny. I rapidly clenched and unclenched them, thinking somehow if I moved them enough, they would magically grow back to their original size.

I clawed at my now small body, terrified and screamed until my throat burned. This can't be me. This was— I had to be dreaming. Yeah, that had to be it. Maybe I was still alive and on a hospital ship, barely clinging to life. That had to be the only explanation. Whose body was this? And why am I controlling it? Controlling a child's body?

My thoughts were interrupted with the urgent stomping of footsteps and the door to the room slid open with a loud bang.

"Natsue!" A woman cried out and trailing behind was another woman who looked slightly older than her.

They both bolted to my side, with the woman gently cradling me against her chest. "You're awake! Finally, you're awake!" She sobbed.

"How are you feeling, my lady!" The older woman asked, just as relieved and alarmed.

What in the actual fuck is happening? Who were these people? And they were speaking in a foreign language? I pushed myself away from the woman albeit forcefully as she was crushing me within her hold.

"Who are you?" My voice quivered awkwardly within the room and my hands immediately went to cup my mouth. Because just now, I also spoke their language. From the way their sentences ended with the particle 'ka' when asking questions, I think we were speaking Japanese. I don't know what's more bewildering; the fact that I spoke it or the fact that I could perfectly understand it. Last time I checked, I only knew very basic Japanese but that was the least of my problems right now.

The faces of both women instantly dropped, flickering with confusion, hurt, and an immeasurable amount of sadness all at once.

"Natsue," the woman quietly murmured, her face in complete disbelief. "I'm your mother."

I just— what?

The ensuing hysteria that broke after I utter those infamous words, 'who are you,' was understandable as they are not the words one should say to their 'mother.' But how was I supposed to know that? I didn't know these people; they were complete strangers. For two hours, the woman bemoaned about her child not remembering her own mother and at the same time questioned her own parenting skills for not watching me carefully that day. The older woman calmly tried to find a valid reason for my memory loss and occasionally asked me if I truly did forget.

I took the moment to carefully observe both women, starting with the one that referred to herself as my mother. If I could truly describe someone as strikingly beautiful, it would be her. The woman had inky hair pulled into an elaborate bun that was woven from the black heavens, strands were dark as space itself. Her pale, translucent like complexion framed her earthy brown and honey-colored eyes. She had an oval shaped face with soft edges giving her a demure and benevolent expression that carried dignity and grace. The kimono that she wore had intricate designs and vivid colors as it brushed softly against my skin. Her mere attire further solidified my privileged background theory. Maybe she was the madam of the house?

The older woman on the other hand, also wore a kimono but the similarities stopped there. You could almost immediately tell there was a status difference. The kimono she wore was far less sophisticated and her hair was pulled into a simple bun. Her face showed the first signs of wrinkles, a testament of time pressing down on her. With these details in mind, it was likely she was an attendant or possibly a maid for the elite woman.

After a while, I became frustrated with my current situation and devised a plan to lie that I was suffering from temporary memory loss to gather some information about this child's body. It worked. So buckle down, because this is fucking insane.

One: My name is Natsue Kamo.

Two: I am currently six years old.

Three: My mother's name is Masae Kamo. Okay, got to admit, it was weird calling her that when my 'actual' mom was still fresh within my mind.

Four: Looks like I was reincarnated somewhere in Japan as this entire time both Masae and the attendant spoke to me in Japanese. But here's the problem: I'm not supposed to know this much of Japanese. I mean, I did study the language a little when I was deployed there for two years but it was not at an efficient level. (I'll get into more depth on this situation later.)

And five: I've just woken up from a major accident that almost took 'my life'. But what, I don't know. They won't tell me yet.

So far this was all I had gathered before the women hushed me to sleep and honestly, it explained nothing. It didn't explain why I was in this girl's body. It didn't explain how I was here.

I shuffled my body over, facing the window of my room. The moonlight softly hit my face as the clouds shielded some of its rays.

Was soul swapping a thing? Surely it had to be as it was the last reason I could think of that had any amount of logic. I didn't care how little. At this point, I was willing to believe in anything to keep myself from going insane. I thought of everything, really from reincarnation to accidentally being sent to a parallel universe. Maybe there was a whole different civilization deep in outer space and I was somehow transported there…? Nah, that one was a bit of a reach. But if I did reincarnate, why did I become a six year old? I thought the whole point of reincarnation was that someone had to be reborn as a baby, not a child.

I slammed a pillow on my head, as it hurt from the thinking. Suddenly, my body stiffened at the thought of this girl. If my theory of soul swapping was possibly correct, then was she in my body? I grimaced at the thought. A child living inside a grown adult, whose body and mind were far too broken. I hope she wasn't.

After realizing I was truly stuck within this body, it took weeks for me to adjust to my new life and it wasn't easy. The next few weeks must have been incredibly trying for my mother as I was unresponsive to just about anything she offered. Think about it this way: one moment you were practically fighting for your life on a battlefield and suddenly you wake up in a strange, alien environment with strangers surrounding you. Everything and everyone you'd ever known were ripped away from you as if they were all a dream. So undoubtedly, I struggled. I grieved. I had several mental breakdowns.

It got so bad to the point they called a psychiatrist almost every day (in addition to the family doctor's visit), thinking I was traumatized by my accident. I mean, they weren't wrong. I was traumatized but for a completely different reason. For days I had pediatric therapy which mostly consisted of me drawing pictures for them to interpret. Even the professionals were clueless and ended up agreeing with my mother that it was just trauma.

As a month trudged by, I should mention my past memories were fading. Slowly and little by little they were being replaced by this girl's (or my?) memories. Which wasn't much considering she was six. It started off unnoticeable, when Masae— mother brought up the time we went to see the cherry blossom trees blooming in the garden. At first, I was indifferent to it like always but then the memory sprung itself from the confines of my mind and I unknowingly responded with a giggle, reminiscing like it was my own memory.

It felt like I was brainwashing myself, thinking that I was really there when deep down I knew I wasn't. Sometimes the memories mixed with the memories of my old life, further pushing my already fragile and very confused mental state to the abyss. With this hybrid-Frankenstein memory phenomenon, I was able to figure out who the real Natsue was. The Natsue Kamo before I came along was a quiet, shy girl that mostly kept to herself. The exact opposite of me. As a kid, I was loud, sometimes obnoxious and unafraid to voice my thoughts. She was timid even for a child as most children at this age would be bursting with energy. And guilt gnawed at my heart whenever I relived those memories. It felt wrong that I was stealing her life, stealing her own chance of experiencing life. But what choice did I have? I was stuck here. Whether I liked it or not I was going to live it.

They had me young, unlike my parents from my old life who preferred to start a family in their later years. I wasn't sure if I could truly love my new parents because well, I was undeserving of it. Though, it was impossible not to love someone when you relied on them so much. I was not their Natsue Kamo and I felt like I was keeping it a secret from them. Technically, I was. How am I supposed to explain that a twenty-seven year old was now inhabiting their six year old daughter's body? Yeah, no. I'll probably traumatize everyone instead. It took a long time before I started to truly open up to my mother and even then, I hesitated to affectionately call her that.

Speaking of parents, I have never once seen my father. Which prompted me to think I didn't have one but nope, I did and there was a specific reason why he never came to visit me. Judging from Natsue's memories, her relationship with her father was not the best to say the least. There were barely any interactions between the father and daughter and if there were any, they were not the happiest. Throughout the memories, I could see, feel her struggling to obtain his attention and it was heartbreaking to remember. He coldly brushed her off whenever she would toddle towards him or completely ignored her existence as she attempted to converse with him. Of course, there was her mother and the attendant that comforted her during those challenging times but she still craved for her father's validation, a father's love.

So, my new dad was an asshole. Great. It seemed like the deities or whatever supernatural being up there cursed my second chance in life with another broken family.

Mother and her attendant visited me frequently, often bringing me food and probably being my only source of entertainment really. I was forbidden to leave my room as I was still recovering from my accident and coupled with the fact that I was still figuring out my new life, I was perfectly content staying in bed all day. Well, for now at least.

Each visit, mother would bring me presents such as cute stuffed animals that she knitted and sweets like wagashi that she made herself. It was like she knew of my sugary eating habits from my past life. During my military days, my comrades would usually give me their Hershey bars, mini cupcakes, tootsie rolls and such as I was known as the soldier with an infamous sweet tooth.

We would sit at either side of the chabudai (a short legged table) near the window, enjoying sweets with tea and talking for hours. From the conversations we would have, I managed to learn that the year was 1996 which meant I was a 90's baby and this was further confirmed when I was told my birthday was on March Seventh, 1990. So, not only did I reincarnate but also time traveled. Hey, at least I didn't travel back too far because I know for a fact that I couldn't survive in Edo Japan. (Technology, oh sweet technology.)

Ah— I almost forgot to explain my instantaneous understanding of a completely new language. I honestly have no idea how it worked. I thought since the old Natsue already knew the language, it somehow transferred over to me when I took over? However unrealistic that sounds, I'm just thankful there wasn't a language barrier. Though as a six year old, I wasn't so sure about her literacy and writing level yet. To counter that, I asked mother if we could practice reading and writing together. She hesitated at first, insisting that we start after I fully recovered from the accident but I refused. I needed knowledge and to acquire knowledge, I needed to learn how to read and write.

I have no doubt in mind that I came off as an odd, prudent child. Having much more experience in learning, my adult mind was capable of grasping things faster than the average child of my age and my mother was completely undisturbed by that. I was extremely grateful for my prior knowledge of the language, even if it was only a little. I would spend hours, sitting on her lap, intently listening to her read my favorite book. When she finished, I would pester her to read it to me again and again. I'm pretty sure she had the book memorized from the number of times I asked her to read it. We would then practice writing basic Kanji, Hiragana, and Katakana until my brain fried from overworking.

One night, I awoke to find a book that was left on the nightstand next to my bed. If it was any other book, I would've just shuffled to my side and went back to sleep but the title caught my eye. It said something about sorcery. Mother would usually read while waiting for me to fall asleep which depending on the days took longer than others. The thing is, she didn't appear to be the type of person who read books like this one as she usually brought nonfiction genres.

Using the moonlight as a light source, I flipped through the pages carefully, making sure I didn't leave any dents on the paper.

I tried sounding out the words as best as I could, piecing together hiragana and kanji characters that mother and I worked on. There were some words and phrases that were still too complicated for me to read but I still managed to understand bits and pieces of the sentences.

'…cursed energy is the' a word I didn't know '…of all of Jujutsu.'

What?

That's not all, terminologies such as cursed energy, cursed techniques, sorcerers, curse users, and cursed tools covered the first three pages of the book.

As I kept going, the contents of the book seemed just pure fiction but at the same time I felt like I had heard them before. It was like a strong déjà vu feeling. Where did I—

Jujutsu Kaisen! My mind jolted with sudden realization. These terms were from Jujutsu Kaisen. Hold up. No. No. No. There was no way… I couldn't be— It sounded just so fictitious.

I buried my face into my hands, briefly stopping to somehow process this absolute insane discovery. My hands went cold and clammy, my heart pounded against my chest erratically. The more I read on however, the more my denial began to slip away from me.

At this point, I was flipping through the pages, skimming through it like an absolute madman until I found a phrase that bewildered me the most: the Kamo family. My new surname.

'The Kamo family are one of the big three sorcerer families, who hold the most… and influence...' I swear to god, if I find the word blood manipulation next. '…golden age of Jujutsu, the Kamo clan were famed for…, Blood Manipulation...'

I felt the last of my denial shatter and crumble away like dust. It's official. I had reincarnated into the Jujutsu Kaisen Universe.

I seriously had the worst luck with my Russian roulette of a reincarnation. From all of the possible characters and the other families I could've been reborn into, why was it the fucking Kamo family? The clan had the reputation for being the most tainted out of the three clans because of an ancestor. Noritoshi Kamo, known as the most malevolent sorcerer in history due to his unethical experimentations on humans and cursed spirits.

And then there was the younger descendant with the same name. If the timeline still matches up to the canon story, I'm assuming he wasn't born yet. The year was still 1996 and the younger Noritoshi was eighteen during the series. Therefore, he had to be born in 2000. Which begs the question, was my father the clan heir? It kind of made sense based on the past Natsue's memories. I also remember reading that the younger Kamo was born to a mistress as the rightful wife of the clan head couldn't give birth to a male heir. Maybe I was the older half-sister. The disappointment of the clan for being a girl. Or maybe I was going to be a future cousin. There was a possibility that my father could be the brother of the clan head. Until I figure out who the clan leader is, this will remain unanswered.

I silently screamed into my pillow, feeling a migraine slowly creep its way into my right temple. Not only that, the family was also known for their twisted ideals; if one did not inherit the cursed technique, they were worthless. Thrown away like trash, ostracized as if they never existed in the first place. Which prompted me to think; did I inherit the cursed technique? If I hadn't, that explained the apathetic and ruthless demeanor my father displayed towards me. After all, this was the family that prioritized cursed techniques more than anything else.

Of course I didn't think my surname had any relevance to the series when I first heard it. This entire time, I believed that it was just a coincidence and come on, there has to be people in the real-world Japan with the last name Kamo. It couldn't be a surname exclusively made up for the Jujutsu Kaisen universe.

Okay, okay think. If you really did reincarnate into Jujutsu Kaisen, what were the important parts again? I whacked my mind for anything important. Based on the timeline, the events of the series are not due to happen for another twenty-two years when Itadori Yuji consumes one of Sukuna's finger in 2018. If we were to consider Jujutsu Kaisen 0 as well, then in twenty-one years. Welp, that's a long ass time from now.

The closest event that was bound to happen was Gojo's past arc which was the Star plasma vessel incident in 2006. The incident that would change Gojo and Geto's paths forever. Sometime after the incident, Geto will betray Jujutsu High, becoming a curse user. The reason, I don't know. The thing is, I read up to Riko Amanai's death and afterwards I'll be experiencing my second life with no prior knowledge, experiencing it in real time like the characters. Realistically speaking, could I prevent his betrayal? What made him betray in the first place? Could I prevent her death? Of course, my very existence in the universe will hinder any chances of the story to follow the original plot. But how much could I change? The series was still on going by the time I died so, there will be much more that have yet to occur.

Suffice to say, I did not sleep well that night.

The next morning, I held the book with both hands, explaining to my mother that she forgot to take it with her. She took it from me and paused for a moment, staring at the book with a hollow look before her eyes landed back on me. For a brief moment, her eyes reflected a mixture of guilt, sorrow, and melancholy but masterfully hid it with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Thank you. I was wondering where I left it yesterday." She said, while pulling me in for a hug. "I can be quite forgetful."

"It's okay." I mumbled.

It was strange. Her smiles always reached her eyes.

The sky began to bruise as I stared out the window, waiting for mother. It became a daily ritual at this point to enjoy tea and sweets together during the evening. But today, she was running late. Very late.

I contemplated on whether or not I should go find her, knowing that I would be disobeying her for leaving the room. But I was okay now. My ribs didn't stab me with pain every time I tried moving and I hadn't sustained any other injuries. My leg shook impatiently, making the entire table lightly jitter along with it.

Just before I stood up to my feet, the shoji slide opened with such force that a bit of the wood actually chipped off the frame.

There stood my mother. Her hair that was always elegantly arranged had strands loosely falling around her translucent face. The kimono that was always immaculately kept was rumpled up. Her chest rapidly rose and fell as if she ran a mile. I have never seen her in such a disheveled state before. Behind her were several other attendants(?) all had their heads bowed and stood still as a statue.

Her glazed eyes scanned the room until they landed on my confused, anxious form and she thickly swallowed.

Judging by her reaction, something life changing was about to happen to me. I knew that being part of the Kamo family will never guarantee me living out my days peacefully, undisturbed. Deep down, part of me wished I had the option. All I wanted was to enjoy some sweets!

"Mother?" I called out apprehensively.

Slowly, she approached me. "Natsue…" She paused, taking in a shaky breath. "Your father wishes to see you."

Suddenly, it became a little harder to breathe.

My… father?

AN continued: So yes, I'm back and I'm sorry for taking a long break. At the time, I just lost inspiration to continue Clouds Drawn By the Moonlight and didn't want to force myself to write terrible chapters for you guys to read. Even now I don't feel like going back to it but maybe one day I will. As for Under the Maple Tree, like I mentioned above, it was a hot mess and I didn't know what direction I wanted to take with it. I also lost inspiration to continue so I rewrote the entire first chapter of it for this fanfic. I hope you'll enjoy updates of Nevertheless and thanks for understanding. See you guys soon.