Chapter 1: I Accidentally Rage-Quit Reality
Look, I didn't want to be a transmigrator.
If you're reading this because you think getting sucked into an anime world is cool, close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your parents told you about how manga is bad for your brain, and go back to normal life. Being a fictional character is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, messy ways.
If you're just a normal fan reading this as a story, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to think none of this ever happened.
But if you recognize yourself in these pages—if you feel something stirring inside you—stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know it, it's only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they'll come for you.
My name is Kazuma. Until about ten minutes ago, I was just a regular guy sitting in my room in Japan, minding my own business and having a completely justified, vein-popping aneurism over the latest chapter of Jujutsu Kaisen.
"Yuta!" I yelled, slamming my fist onto my desk so hard my limited-edition anime figures rattled. "He actually hijacked Gojo Satoru's body? How can you whip a corpse repeatedly like this?! Can't a man just rest in peace?!"
Seriously, my brain was short-circuiting. The manga panel in front of me was outrageous. Megumi—who was currently being meat-puppeted by Sukuna—was fighting Gojo, who was also being meat-puppeted by Yuta. It was like a nesting doll of trauma. At this rate, the author needed to rebrand the series from dark fantasy to sci-fi mecha.
I got so incredibly angry, so intensely stressed by the sheer audacity of the plot, that my vision went black. I literally fainted from pure nerd rage.
When I finally blinked my eyes open, the anger was gone, replaced by a cold spike of confusion.
"Hm?" I muttered, rubbing my head. "Where is this place?"
This wasn't my room. The wallpaper was different. The furniture was wrong. I stood up, spinning around like a tourist who took a wrong turn at a subway station. "Where the hell am I?"
I hadn't even finished cataloging my new, unfamiliar walls when a sound tore through the air from the apartment next door.
"Ahhhh!"
It was a wet, agonizing, heart-wrenching scream, instantly followed by the distinct, heavy splat of something liquid hitting a surface. A lot of liquid.
I froze. Look, I've watched a lot of "special" adult videos in my time, okay? I'm no saint. But I'm not an idiot, either. Nobody makes a sound that violently horrific during their, uh, extracurricular activities.
Before I could even process the scream, a cold, robotic voice echoed directly inside my skull. It sounded like an iPhone Siri if she joined a sci-fi cult.
[Ding! Loading completed! Congratulations to the host for activating the mission selection system.]
[Ding! The first mission selection has begun.]
[Mission Option 1: As a transmigrator, you should be fearless! Fight hand-to-hand with the third-grade artificial cursed spirit that is about to break through the wall.
Reward: Eight Inner Gates ]
[Mission Option 2: Use love to influence the upcoming cursed spirit.
Reward: Multiple Shadow Clone Technique ]
[Mission Option 3: Look into the eyes of Gojo Satoru, who is about to arrive.
Reward: Mangekyō Sharingan (Kamui) ]
My brain ground to a halt.
Jujutsu Kaisen. The screams. The cursed spirit.
Oh, great, I thought. I didn't just faint. I transmigrated.
And to make matters worse, whoever was screaming next door was currently being turned into a midnight snack by a monster, and my apartment was definitely next on the menu.
I stared at the glowing holographic screen floating in front of my face. Inside my mind, a thousand wild horses were stampeding in pure panic.
System, are you kidding me? I screamed internally. You want me to fight a curse with my bare hands? I don't care if the reward is Naruto's taijutsu, I'll be dead before I can unlock the first gate! And the second option? Use love to persuade it? What am I supposed to do, give a demon a therapy session?!
The first two options were a hard pass. Luckily, there was option three. It was a little weird, sure, but it was hands-down my best shot at surviving. Plus, getting the Mangekyō Sharingan? Heck yes.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The drywall in front of me shuddered. It sounded like someone was swinging a wrecking ball on the other side. The entire room vibrated, dust raining down from the ceiling.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I instinctively backed up, my hand fumbling behind me until my fingers gripped the apartment door handle. I kept my eyes glued to the cracking wall.
I was taking a massive gamble here. Three seconds. That's all I was going to give it. If the strongest sorcerer in the world didn't crash through the ceiling in three seconds, I was twisting this doorknob and running for my life. No offense to Mike Tyson, but even if he were here, he'd get turned into paste.
BOOM!
The wall exploded inward. Shards of plaster and wood flew everywhere as a hideous, distorted monster tore through the gap.
It was the stuff of literal nightmares: the face of a human, but the elongated, squirming body of a massive worm. Its eyes blazed a sickening, blood-red color. It dragged its heavy mass over the rubble, opening a massive maw that dripped thick, foul pus. The moment the sludge hit the floor, the wood hissed and dissolved into smoking, corroded pits.
The stench hit me next. It smelled like a dumpster behind a seafood market in the middle of a July heatwave.
"Don't go... come and play with me... don't leave!"
The monster spoke, but it wasn't one voice. It was the overlapping, distorted voices of several young children, sounding like a scratched demonic record. It made my scalp go entirely numb.
Through the hole in the wall, I could see into the next apartment. It was a disaster zone. A body lay in a dark, spreading pool of blood, completely unrecognizable from being mauled. But her eyes were still wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling, frozen in a final look of absolute terror.
My stomach violently churned. Fear gripped my throat, but I forced my mouth to move.
"I'm sorry," I croaked out, trying to sound braver than I felt. "But you're so ugly that even a stray dog would shake its head and walk away."
I braced myself to throw the door open and sprint—
CRASH!
The glass window behind the monster shattered into a million glittering pieces. A tall figure came flying through the frame, landing with perfect, casual grace right in the middle of the chaos.
The guy had spiking white hair, a supremely confident smirk, and a towering frame draped in a sleek, high-collared black uniform. Oh, and he was holding a box of traditional mochi sweets.
"Sorry, I'm late," Gojo Satoru said.
Before the worm-monster could even turn its hideous head, Gojo blurred. He was just there in front of it. He raised a single hand, casually flicked a finger, and fired a localized burst of cursed energy.
Thwack.
The curse didn't even have time to shriek. It instantly dissolved into a cloud of black ash, scattering across the ruined apartment.
I stood there, completely speechless. Yep, I thought, the manga didn't lie. The guy really does have a devastating sweet tooth and zero chill.
With the danger gone, the adrenaline left my system, leaving my knees a little shaky. Gojo turned around, casually holding his box of sweets, his eyes completely hidden behind a thick black blindfold.
I had a major problem. My system mission explicitly required me to look into his eyes. But how am I supposed to look into a guy's eyes when he's wearing a tactical sleep mask?
Gojo tilted his head, his smirk widening as he leaned down to get a closer look at me. "Hmm? You're special. In addition to being born with cursed energy, you've also got an aura around you that I can't quite see through."
I kept my face like a poker player's. Inside, I was sweating bullets. Even his legendary Six Eyes couldn't penetrate the system's cloaking; to him, I probably looked like I was wrapped in a thick, supernatural fog.
"Are you interested in becoming a jujutsu sorcerer?" Gojo asked, pointing a thumb back toward the window. "The kind of guy who beats up cursed spirits? You just saw me do it."
A perfect setup. My lips curled into a small smile.
"Sorcerer? What's that?" I asked, putting on my best Oscar-worthy performance of a clueless, traumatized teenager. "And what the heck was that monster?"
Gojo held up a single index finger, slipping into teacher mode. "Let's start with cursed spirits. You see, negative human emotions—bitterness, regret, shame, fear—they leak out and gather together. That's what gives rise to their appearance."
I nodded along, pretending this was brand-new information and not something I had read on a wiki page three months ago.
After giving me the standard Jujutsu 101 rundown, Gojo flashed a blinding, charismatic smile. "So, how about it? Interested? Although it's a little dangerous, food and accommodation are provided completely free of charge."
My eye twitched. A LITTLE dangerous? If my memory of the manga served me right, by the time the final arc rolls around, the survival rate of a sorcerer is basically in the single digits.
Time to make my move.
"My grandma always told me," I said, looking up at him with the most serious, deadpan expression I could muster, "that you can always tell if a person is telling the truth by looking them straight in the eye."
Gojo paused, clearly amused by the blatant fabrication. "Well, you can see my eyes. But if I show you, you have to promise to follow me after that."
He probably got this a lot. A tall guy in a blindfold offering free housing to teenagers definitely screams 'stranger danger.'
Gojo reached up, his long fingers catching the edge of the black fabric. With a smooth, practiced motion, he pulled the blindfold up, revealing his face.
The breath caught in my throat.
They were the Six Eyes. Up close, his pupils were a striking, impossible pale blue—radiant and deep, like a pair of infinite, freezing oceans captured in glass. It felt like those eyes weren't just looking at me; they were looking through me, decoding my DNA and reading my thoughts.
I locked my gaze directly onto his, holding it for one second... two seconds...
Suddenly, a loud, cheerful ringtone shattered the silence. Gojo's phone was buzzing in his pocket.
But right at that exact microsecond, a very different sound chimed inside my head.
[Ding! Congratulations to the host for completing the mission. The Mangekyō Sharingan is now being distributed...]