Disclaimer:

Hey there! Thanks for checking out my fanfiction! I just want to make it super clear that I'm just a regular fan who loves to write stories for fun. None of this is for profit or anything like that. It's all just for entertainment, pure and simple. So, if you're enjoying the read, awesome! But please remember, I'm not making any money off of it. I am just sharing my love for these characters and their worlds. Thanks for understanding! Happy reading! 📚✨

Damian lounged on the guard rail, his legs swinging lazily as he surveyed the bustling streets of Japan. The city buzzed with life, but inside him, there was a void of uncertainty. It's been two days since he got to this world. "What the hell do I do now?" he muttered, feeling like a fish out of water in this strange new world.

He glanced around, pondering his predicament. "So I'm stuck in Jujutsu Kaisen," he muttered. "I got no ID, no passport, nada," he grumbled to himself, frustration evident in his voice. "I'm basically an illegal alien in this place."

The man could only release a frustrated sigh; those isekai animes and mangas he read made it look so easy. Then again, most of those had some luck, like a freaking god helping them settle in or maybe being reborn! Compared to him, he just had to bust his way out of limbo on his own. A giggle caught his ears and turned to the source

A mother and child strolled past, the kid casting a wary glance in Damian's direction before veering away like he was a plague carrier. Damian rolled his eyes. "Great, I'm also Spooky the unfriendly ghost now," he muttered, rubbing his temples in exasperation.

Wait, since he's a ghost, that meant he was invisible to the majority, right? This meant he didn't need a passport or visa in the first place; he could just technically pass through walls and do whatever he wanted without any consequences. Right?

Curiosity piqued, and he decided to test his newfound invisibility. Slipping into position at a shop entrance, he watched as people sidestepped him without so much as a second glance. "So I am fucking invisible," he quipped, though the amusement was tinged with a hint of amusement. "But it looks like people are avoiding me by instinct." This was great; he didn't need to sleep or even have to take a dump anymore; he could go anywhere and do whatever he wanted but then he suddenly paused.

The realization hit him like a freight train, since he was some kind of ghostly apparition now. This meant he couldn't enjoy the majority of life as well. He wouldn't be able to enjoy anything. Not even food and importantly, sex!

But then came the million-dollar question: Did he have other superpowers? Seven years ago, he was just your average Joe before he kicked the bucket. Now, he was stuck in a world where anything seemed possible. "Maybe I have a curse technique or maybe something different," he mused aloud, a flicker of excitement in his voice.

Before he could delve deeper into his existential crisis, the guard rail beneath him emitted a groan of protest. Damian's eyes widened in alarm as the damn thing gave out, sending him crashing to the ground in a whirlwind of limbs and curses. "Son of a...!" he exclaimed, clutching his throbbing head.

But as he picked himself up off the ground, something caught his eye—the guard rail, now rusted and decayed as if years had passed in the blink of an eye.

Rubbing his sore head, Damian stared in disbelief at the mangled mess of metal before him. "That's not normal," he muttered, his mind racing with possibilities.

"Holy crap," Damian breathed, eyes wide with disbelief. "How the hell did that happen?" He knew guard rails weren't supposed to crumble like that; they were built to last, damn it. And yet, here he was, staring at the aftermath. It didn't take a genius to figure out that something freaky was going on—and that something was him.

"Okay, this is getting scarier by the second," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

With a newfound sense of urgency, Damian knew he had to figure out how to control this thing—and fast. He didn't want to become a natural disaster or, worse, wipe off a city because he tripped. "I can't be wrecking the joint every time I sneeze," he grumbled, pushing himself to his feet.

With a newfound sense of urgency, Damian knew he had to get a grip on whatever power he possessed. But first, he needed a plan, and a damn phone wouldn't hurt either. "Gotta keep up with the times, even if I'm dead," he grumbled, scanning the crowded street for a solution to his spectral dilemma. "Alright, where in hell can a ghost get a decent phone around here?" he grumbled, scanning the crowded street for any sign of salvation.

Damian strolled through the streets of Shibuya, the morning sun casting long shadows across the pavement. He figured he had some time to kill before things got too hairy—gotta love the calm before the storm, right? But then reality slapped him in the face again—he needed to get a grip on his powers before he could even think about snagging a phone. Otherwise, he'd just end up reducing the damn thing to dust.

"Seriously?" he grumbled under his breath, frustration bubbling up inside him like a pot ready to boil over. "Why's this got to be so damn complicated?" It seemed like the universe had it out for him, throwing obstacle after obstacle in his path.

He continued on his way, hoping to be out of Shibuya before nightfall. But fate had other plans, it seemed, as Damian collided with someone outside an old, abandoned apartment building.

Panic surged through as his thoughts began to imagine whoever he collided with being reduced to dust and ash. As much as he didn't care about the people, that didn't mean he was fine with murder. So imagine his relief when he heard the person make a noise; judging from the sounds of it, it was a kid.

"Shit, sorry about that," Damian grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at the kid he'd bumped into. White hair, blue eyes—he looked familiar, but Damian couldn't quite place him. "Uh, are you alright, kid?"

But before the kid could respond, Damian's eyes widened in recognition. "Killua?" he muttered, confusion etched across his features. But then it hit him like a ton of bricks—this wasn't Killua; this was...

"Gojo Satoru," Damian breathed, realization dawning on him. "Oh, crap."

The kid—no, Gojo—shot him a glare that could freeze hell over, his voice dripping with disdain. "Stop looking at me with those eyes, weakling."

Damian felt a vein throb in his temple, his annoyance boiling over. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed the kid's cheeks, squeezing them tightly.

From Gojo's perspective, Damian's curse energy appeared small and unimpressive. But what surprised him was the lack of fear in the spirit's eyes as he made his move. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Gojo yelled, his cheeks squished between Damian's fingers.

The spirit's response was blunt and to the point. "I'm teaching you a lesson about not being too cocky," Damian said, finally releasing his grip.

As Gojo nursed his sore cheeks, a strange feeling bubbled up inside him—something new and unfamiliar. For the first time in his life, someone hadn't cowered before him or bowed down to his power. And whether he liked it or not, it was a feeling he couldn't ignore.

Damian wasn't stupid; he knew that, deep down, the only reason he even managed to do that was because Gojo was still a kid. Which, now that he thought about it, made his recent act completely stupid.

There was absolutely no way Gojo was going to let this one slide. It may not be today or tomorrow but someday, Damian knew, Gojo was going to come to him and get his revenge.

He was completely aware of his action and had a completely different reaction from Gojo. For the young heir of the Satoru clan, this was the first time he had received such a reaction. The majority of his clansmen showered him with praise, but behind that praise, he could see it as clear as day. Those people were jealous of him; they wanted to be him and only wanted to be connected to him to ride his coattails as soon as he became the new leader of the clan at the right age.

Curse spirits are also afraid of him, none daring to even step into the light and catch his sight. They avoided him like a plague and he understood why. Because he was the strongest, so strong that no one would even dare think of causing harm to him—not a spirit, not a curse user, nobody.

Yet...

For the first time, someone actually did. Someone had enough balls to actually confront him! A curse spirit of all things! As much as it stung his pride as the strongest, he could never deny that for the first time in his life, he was sort of happy. This curse spirit in front of him was willing to trip him off a pedestal that many had placed him on just to humble him.

Now he wouldn't mind it if the spirit was a little bit strong. But with his rikougan, he can clearly see that this curse spirit is actually weak. So weak that the weakest would look like the spirit would be mistaken for a special grade. That was what Gojo saw but instinctively, Gojo saw a threat.

An apex predator that was still asleep but just waiting for the trigger to awaken it.

"Are you alright up there?" Gojo asked.

"Excuse me?" Damian tilted his head with a ticked-off expression. It was clear he didn't like that Gojo was implying he was insane. "Are you calling me crazy, kid?"

Gojo merely gave Damian an aloof expression as he continued. "You can try to hide it but you definitely know who I am," the young Satoru asked.

"So?"

"So you know what is going to happen to you now. So why?" Gojo asked.

"Kid, I don't give a f*ck if you're a god. If you disrespect me, then you better be ready to run the ones with me," Damian said. "I don't care if your the strongest; if you can bleed, then I'm taking a swing at you."

Gojo blinked. He was expecting some speech about the strong being the protector of the weak or something like that. Yet this spirit said the opposite. Its answer was completely selfish. Then the spirit surprised him again.

"Besides, just because you're the strongest, it doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it," Damian said. "If you keep on relying on a lousy title like that, then your actually pretty weak. Sure, you're strong physically, but spiritually, you're weak."

"What do you mean?" Gojo couldn't hold back his curiosity.

"It means that you've become so strong that you're own strength has ironically stolen your dreams," Damian huffed. "Humans are social creatures; we all crave connection. The strongest will always crave an equal. If you keep that kind of mindset, it will be too late for you when you realize that the peak you've been standing at is freaking empty."

Gojo tilted his head before mulling over the spirit's words. In a way, it was exactly what Gojo had been feeling. Empty, even with all the praise, he never felt it was actually genuine. Whatever he did held no value because of his six eyes.

"For a spirit so weak, you sure know a lot," Gojo muttered, not noticing Damian looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Crap, I was just referencing all the OP characters I read," Damian thought while sweating bullets. If the kid ever found out about it, he'd never be able to look the goat in the eyes.

*Click*

Damian blinked before instinctively grabbing Gojo and dragging him to the side. Just in time, a knife grazed his arm and missed Gojo by an inch. Immediately, Damian's mind was racing. Why was somebody trying to assassinate the kid? They should be hesitating, right?

Damian's eyes widened; could it be they mistook him for an assassin, which in turn triggered a butterfly effect!?

Looking at his surroundings, which were beginning to decay, Damian then looked at his hands. With a deep breath, he decided to use every ounce of knowledge he had from manga regarding how to use 'energy'. Sure, most of it had different names but by the end of the day, the majority of those always said that the energy was coming from the gut or surrounding area.

In all honesty, he could have left Gojo and made a run for it. Yet even so... He wasn't stupid. The world needed Gojo; without him, he had no idea what sort of butterfly effect would happen.

He could hear someone approaching them, most likely the assassin. With a deep breath, he mentally readied himself while praying that this decay power would give him some edge.

Rasa was a hitman, and there wasn't a single line he wouldn't cross. There was no mercy from him whenever he took a job. When he saw the bounty for killing the Satoru heir, he was surprised at how much cash someone had placed on a kid.

At first, he thought it was easy but on the day he finally found his target, he found himself hesitating. That kid, Satoru Gojo, knew where he was and looked at him straight into his eyes, despite the distance between them.

Every fibre of his being warned him not to do anything stupid and to get away from Japan as far as possible. And he would have left when he saw another assassin—no, it was a curse spirit. He watched it interact with the kid before proving that his fears were unfounded.

He couldn't help but thank the curse spirit for directly proving that Gojo Satoru was indeed just a child who wielded massive potential. Potential that needed to be snuffed out before it became a problem.

But he was surprised when the spirit reacted and saved the kid. He was amused at the idea of a curse spirit saving a future sorcerer. He held back a sigh of annoyance; he wanted this job to go over fast, but oh well.

Just as he reached the spot where the two were hiding, he narrowly blocked an incoming fist. So the spirit was actually a new born and judging from the human form, this one was most likely a by-product of someone dying with deep regret.

Damian immediately went on an offensive as soon as his first blow was blocked, throwing fast jabs but all of them were blocked or parried. Before he could make a follow-up, he could only grunt as he felt his opponent's foot connect to his gut, forcing the air out of his mouth.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the leg and pulled the man closer as he threw a hammer fist, which the man blocked. Not finished yet, Damian pushed through, forcing them both to the ground as he continued to pummel the man without stopping.

The man raised his arms and continued to block until he managed to push off Damian with his hips, forcing him to roll over. The spirit looked towards his opponent and crossed his arms to block a kick to his face.

"I have to say, for a new-born spirit, you put up a good fight," the man said, dusting off his shoulders before fixing his jacket.

Damian immediately rushed in, only to stop and cover his ears as a sudden, loud ring echoed. He couldn't hear anything but the damn ring, which was getting louder each second.

"Unfortunately, I don't have all day to play with you," the man said. "My curse technique isn't flashy but it has uses."

As Damian looked at the man, all he saw was a blade coming towards him and imbedding itself into his head.

Rasa huffed as he stood up. He didn't need to use his curse technique on this spirit but he wanted it to suffer for a bit for ruining his expensive jacket. Looking for his bounty, he found the kid standing, not bothering to even hide.

Oh well, this makes things quicker for him. This would be a problem if he hadn't set up a veil earlier. After all, news about a grown man murdering a kid would spread like wildfire. As he drew another blade out of his sleeves, he made his way towards his target.

He had to admit that the kid was too brave not to run. Too bad; its not going to change the fact; he's going to die here.

However, what the kid said next made him pause.

"Oi, how long do you plan on playing dead?" Gojo asked with an annoyed look.

Who's he? Rasa's eyes widen as he spins around, only to see an incoming fist that is impossible to dodge.

"SHIT! I need to us-" Before Rasa could finish his thoughts, his mind became blank while the face of the spirit that should have been exorcised looked at him with a viscous grin.

"For a minute there, I thought I died again," he heard it say. He tried to use his curse technique again, but something was different. He couldn't use it; no, that wasn't it; it was if it didn't exist in the first place.

Then, with the beating again, the amount of punches he received that day would traumatize Rasa for the rest of his life.

Damian blinked. The knife in his head didn't kill him, but it sure as hell made it hurt and gave him a splitting headache. He had to play dead; now that he knew what the man's power was, he had to stay still and wait for his moment.

And Gojo provided that.

As soon as he got up, he immediately rushed forward and threw his strongest punch before grabbing the man to stop him from getting away. Punch after punch, Damian didn't stop. He continued to pummel the curse user until the man's face was a mush.

He only stopped when Gojo told him the guy was already knocked out. Looking at the man's destroyed face, Damian couldn't help but say it.

"Fuck your magic."