Chapter Text
“Ugh… What in the…?” Those were the first words that escaped his lips. As he slowly blinks awake, his eyes adjust to the brilliant blue sky overhead, scattered with drifting clouds. He blinks twice, confusion knitting his brows.
How did he end up sprawled on the ground like this?
A faint tremor runs through his fingers. No… Something feels wrong.
He sharpens his focus, every sense on edge as he tries to pinpoint the source of that unsettling feeling. Yuuji slowly raises his hand, his eyes widening in shock.
They’re… small.
He pushes himself up from the rough ground, raising both hands to examine them closely. His heartbeat quickens as he flexes his fingers. “Am I…” The question trails off, unfinished, as he registers the voice… His voice.
It sounded like that of a child.
Stunned by the discovery, Yuuji fixates on his tiny hands and shrunken frame, his eyes roaming over himself frantically. Soon, a surge of disbelief and awe crashes over him. For years, he’d known every detail of his unaged body. Its scars, the way it moved, and the way it felt, hence why this new vessel is utterly foreign. His shock palpable as every sensation, every movement, becomes unfamiliar to him, leaving him to question everything as he tries to grasp the reality of his transformation.
“I really must be dreaming,” he said. “I can’t be a kid.”
He must have been struck by some sort of technique. There was no other explanation. How else could a one-hundred-year-old, ageless, half cursed spirit and human suddenly become a… literal child?
It was time to investigate, he decided, pushing himself upright and brushing dirt from his clothes. And, well, that changed, too. “What happened to my clothes?” He’s wearing something different. Perhaps this was also part of the technique. He can’t sense anything malicious, though.
Or no…
His cursed energy… Is it gone…?
“That can’t be,” Yuuji mutters, mind racing to make sense of it all. “Did Maru do something? He’s not the type to strip cursed energy from current sorcerers.”
Before he could dwell on it any longer, a voice rang out from the distance, and one so achingly familiar it sent a jolt through him.
“Yuuji!”
His head whips toward the sound, eyes growing impossibly wide. No way… “G-Gramps?”
There, striding toward him with a scowl and leaning heavily on a cane, was his grandfather, Wasuke Itadori. He was supposed to be dead, gone for a long, long time. “You brat! I told you to be careful!”
Yuuji’s breath trembles as he lets it out, taking a hesitant step forward before stopping himself. Get a grip, Yuuji, he told himself firmly. This could be a cursed technique that tricks his mind with illusions.
He reaches inward, searching for any lingering trace of his cursed energy. There it was… Faint, but present. If an enemy were to strike now, he needs to defend himself. His cursed energy hadn’t vanished, only diminished, as if adapting to his new, smaller body. Maybe it had been reduced to match the strength of an ordinary child. But Yuuji was no amateur.
He was an old sorcerer, fully in command of his cursed energy and able to wield it with practiced ease. Drawing on that experience, he scrutinized everything for signs of deception. He swept his gaze over his grandfather, who was still stalking toward him with an angry scowl, then scanned the world around them.
Yuuji blinks. Nothing. No illusions, no hidden threats. Just reality.
What’s going on?
His analysis was abruptly interrupted by a sharp smack to the head from his grandfather’s cane. “Ow!” Yuuji yelped, startled once more by the high pitch of his own voice as he rubbed the sore spot.
The pain was real, immediate, and stinging. If he could feel it this vividly, there was no way he was dreaming. Besides, he trusted his instincts. Even when his cursed energy was faint, he’d never doubted himself, and there was no trace of outside interference.
The final memory before waking in this… bizarre world… was his relentless search for a way to become a cursed object. A measure to keep cursed spirit damage at zero for the next three centuries. His goal, shared with Maru, had always been to eliminate or at least minimize cursed energy. And now… none of it made sense. Where was he?
He got smacked by the cane again. “Ouch!”
“Pay attention when I’m talking to you, Yuuji!” His grandfather barked. “Just look at yourself. Your forehead’s bleeding!”
“It’s because you keep hitting me with that stick!”
“No, it’s because you fell out of that tree you were climbing!”
Yuuji spins around, bewildered. His grandfather was right, there was a massive tree just behind him. Had he really been climbing it? The enormous tree trunk was thick. Its bark was gnarled and weathered by years of wind and rain. Yuuji reaches out and presses his palm against the rugged surface, feeling its solidity, the roughness scraping against his skin.
This was no illusion. He could say that with certainty, because this tree, this solidity, was undeniably real. There was no illusion here, only the unmistakable presence of something grounded and tangible. It was as real and solid as anything he’d ever known. His hand clenches into a fist.
Enough of this.
“Are you real?” The question slipped out, deceptively calm in his youthful voice.
Because beneath his composed expression, however, anger simmered. Hot, wild, and barely contained. Who would dare twist his memories, manipulating them into a weapon against him? It was unforgivable. Whoever was playing these cruel games, whoever dared to tamper with his mind, would pay dearly for their audacity. Yuuji’s cursed energy starts to lash out in preparation to retaliate against this offending cursed technique. Whoever it is, he will ensure that he puts an end to their lives.
His grandfather didn’t notice the shift in Yuuji’s mood, but he frowned at the stormy look clouding his grandson’s face. “What’s gotten into you now? You hit your head, and suddenly you’re a moody brat? This is why I tell you not to eat so much sugar. Just look at you, where’s the kid I know?”
Yuuji did not respond. He stays put, his cursed energy, even at its weakened state, brims in preparation for an attack.
It never came.
Wasuke let out a heavy sigh, his wrinkled hand moving to scratch the back of his head in resignation. “Let’s go back home. I need to patch you up.”
He reaches out, his palm rough and callused from a lifetime of work, and gently rests it on the back of Yuuji’s head. The touch was unexpectedly warm. A familiar comfort that sent a pang of nostalgia through Yuuji’s chest. Wasuke’s fingers ruffle Yuuji’s hair with practiced affection. “You don’t look like you’re in pain, which is good.”
It’s almost unfair.
Whatever this is, it’s just unfair.
It was as if a dam inside Yuuji burst, flooding him with all the emotions he'd locked tightly away. A shuddering breath escapes him, part relief, part disbelief. Because the moment he woke up moments ago, he had doubted. He suspected a curse, a technique, anything but the truth. But now, with his grandfather’s hand so warm and real on his head, it was undeniable. This was real. The rough bark of the tree had been cold and unyielding beneath his fingers, but his grandfather’s warmth, that undeniable touch of a living, breathing person, shattered any lingering doubt. That simple contact snapped him fully awake to the reality before him.
Somehow, impossibly, he’d been brought back in time.
All the tension drains from his body. Overwhelmed, Yuuji stumbles forward and throws his arms around his grandfather, clutching him in a fierce, desperate embrace. “Gramps,” he whispered, his voice breaking as tears blurred his vision.
The weight of everything—loss, confusion, relief—came crashing down, and Yuuji sobs openly, clinging to the one person he never thought he’d hold again. “Gramps.”
Wasuke stared at him, bewildered by the sudden outpouring of emotion from a child he’d known to be so energetic no less. But then amusement flickered in his eyes, his eyes warm. “There ya’ go again,” he said, his voice softer than before, masking his concern with a familiar gruffness. “Your head’s messed up now, eh?”
But Yuuji didn’t care. This is all real. He didn’t care if, come morning, he woke to find it had all been a dream. To feel his grandfather’s warmth, to have these moments, however fleeting, was a gift he never thought he’d receive again. For Yuuji, a man who’d seen so much and lost even more, this was everything.
For an old sorcerer like him, a second chance was priceless.
~~~
Normally, he would have healed himself in an instant with the Reverse Cursed Technique. But now, sitting in the warm space of their living room with the television murmuring in the background, Yuuji found some comfort in his grandfather’s slow, careful touch as he cleaned and dressed the wound. The sharp scent of antiseptic mingled with the homely atmosphere, and the gentle pressure of the bandages wrapped around him reminded Yuuji of a childhood long past. Each second like this, for a moment, lets himself believe that he belongs to this simple, ordinary peace.
However, he has to focus.
His mind raced, grasping at every possible explanation. Now that he’d accepted this world as real and not some elaborate illusion, he needed to understand what it meant for him and what he might discover here. Yuuji methodically checked for any lingering effects of a cursed technique, reaching out with his senses for the faintest trace of foreign cursed energy. Nothing. No residue, no subtle manipulation. Everything felt genuine, untainted by sorcery.
The truth settled uncomfortably in his chest. He was truly here at this very moment, and there was no clear path home.
Perhaps it had something to do with the soul. He was intimately familiar with the shape and substance of his own soul, including its boundaries, scars, and power. Inwardly, he examined it with a practiced eye. And nothing. Still the same as ever, unchanged, merely housed in a younger body. There was no sign of transfiguration, no evidence that anything had been rewritten or tampered with. His soul remained uniquely, stubbornly his.
He dismissed the theory with a quiet exhale, his thoughts circling back to the concept of time.
Time travel… such an outlandish idea, and yet, what else could explain this? He’d lived for a century, seen the impossible, but this was beyond even his experience. Truth be told, he knew nothing of traveling through time. No stories, no techniques, not even legends to draw from. He considered his sensei, Satoru Gojo, and even Dabura, both of whom had some knowledge of space and time techniques. But it was no use. Gojo was long gone, and Dabura probably didn’t have any insight either. Neither had ever dabbled in actual time travel, not even in theory. It had simply never happened before. Maybe it was time to start searching for answers in earnest.
But now, he was just a boy, unaffiliated, unknown, and with no ties to Jujutsu or the great three clans. Realistically, finding answers would take patience and time. He would have to start from nothing, piecing together his place in this world all over again.
He hears a sigh behind him.
Yuuji turns. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Wasuke replied, though his voice was tight and distracted. It was only then that Yuuji noticed the old man’s phone clutched in his hand, his thumb hovering uncertainly over the screen. The lines on Wasuke’s face deepened with worry, his brows drawn together in a way Yuuji had rarely seen. Only once or twice, maybe, had he witnessed his grandfather look at that ancient phone with such unease, and those times had always been when bad news arrived, usually about mounting medical bills. But Yuuji remembered those moments happening much later, when he was already a teenager.
“You look really troubled, Gramps,” Yuuji said, tone insistent, studying his grandfather’s face for answers.
“Bah, it’s nothing, I said!” Wasuke set the phone aside with a dismissive wave and began packing up the medical kit. “Just the Kamo again and their usual political nonsense.”
Yuuji perks up.
Kamo?
“Wait—how do you know them?” Yuuji blurted out, unable to hide his surprise. As far as he knew, his grandfather shouldn’t have any connection to the Jujutsu world.
Now Wasuke stared at him like he’d sprouted a second head. “What are you talking about, brat? Did you hit your head so hard you forgot everything?”
Crap.
A bead of sweat rolls down Yuuji’s forehead. “I-I think so…?” He stammers, quickly deciding that feigning memory loss was his safest option. He didn’t want to alarm his grandfather, but there weren’t many alternatives. There was no way he could explain that he wasn’t the grandson Wasuke remembered, but someone from a hundred years in the future.
Wasuke looks at him with observant eyes, and Yuuji nearly looks away from sheer nervousness.
"Go sit down in the kitchen. We need to have a talk."
Damn. His old man is smart and sharp as ever.
Yuuji did as he was told, his gaze drifting around the kitchen, unable to resist the pull of nostalgia. It had been so long since he was last here, in a time that felt worlds away. He sat quietly, watching as his grandfather put away the medkit and took a seat across from him. Yuuji sat up straighter under his grandfather’s piercing stare. The old man’s presence was as formidable as ever, reminding Yuuji of all those times he’d been scolded for his reckless, childish antics.
“Do you remember what happened last week?”
Yuuji pressed his lips together, uncertainty flickering across his face. How was he supposed to answer that?
So Yuuji chose not to respond. His grandfather’s brows knit together from his grandson’s silence. "Last week, the Kamo clan opened their new museum. There was a celebration that followed. We were invited.”
Yuuji gulps. Naturally, he would never know that.
Wasuke’s suspicion only grew. “Two months ago, whose birthday was it?”
Yuuji hesitated, and Wasuke fixed him with an expectant stare. “Uh… mine?”
Wasuke frowns.
“I mean… our neighbor?”
Wasuke lowers his head.
“Uh…”
With a sigh, Wasuke rubs the bridge of his nose, clearly stressed out. Yuuji felt a pang of guilt.
“Do you even remember what you had for breakfast?”
“Um… eggs?” Yuuji answers. That seemed like a safe guess.
“No, you ate cupcakes for breakfast. The ones you bought from a street vendor last night.”
Clearly, Yuuji needed more practice with lying. But in his defense, how could he have known that?
Wasuke stands up briskly. “Go wash up. We’re heading to the hospital. I want a doctor to check your head.”
~~~
Apparently, Yuuji had amnesia now.
The doctor gave Yuuji a diagnosis of retrograde amnesia, which is temporary memory loss likely caused by the fall and possible head injury. Of course, to everyone else, it explained his confusion and patchy recall perfectly. Only Yuuji knew the real reason behind his lost memories, and while his younger self may have been involved in an accident by falling off a tee, the truth would be this… He wasn’t the Yuuji they thought they knew.
Naturally, Yuuji kept the real story to himself. He didn’t want to worry his grandfather any more than necessary, so he let the doctor deliver a simple, reassuring explanation. Carefully phrased for a child’s understanding, about needing rest and time for his memories to return.
And, well… Yuuji had forgotten just how tedious and uncomfortable hospitals could be.
“Do you remember what country you’re in?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember your address?”
“Yes.”
“How many fingers do you have?”
“Ten.”
“Alright. Can you name the primary colors for me?”
Yuuji stifled an internal groan as the doctor continued the endless stream of questions. Still, he played along since drawing more attention to himself would only make things worse. His grandfather stood nearby, scrutinizing every answer with a protective, worried glare. In hindsight, Yuuji almost wished he’d just let his grandfather do the questioning at home. At least then, he could have spared himself the sterile lights and clinical interrogation.
“Do you remember the three dynamics?”
Now, this one’s different. Yuuji blinks, genuine confusion flickering across his face. “The dynamics?”
His grandfather and the doctor exchange uneasy glances. The doctor leans in, his tone gentle. “In our society, it’s not just about gender or sex, but there are also dynamics! Alpha, Beta, and Omega. Do you remember what those mean, Yuuji?”
Yuuji glanced at his grandfather, half-hoping for help, but caught himself. That would be childish, so instead, he simply shakes his head. "No...?"
The doctor offered a reassuring smile. “That’s alright, Yuuji. Let me explain.”
Yes, please. It certainly sounded important. Very, very important.
“In our society, everyone is born with one of three secondary genders, or what we call ‘dynamics.’ Alpha, Beta, or Omega. These dynamics influence certain physical traits and sometimes even how people interact with each other, especially as they grow up.”
The doctor pauses, making sure Yuuji is following. “Alphas tend to be more dominant and are often leaders. Betas are the most common, and they don’t have as many strong traits as Alphas or Omegas, and usually live pretty average lives. Omegas are a bit rarer and have their own unique characteristics, often needing special care at certain times.”
The doctor kept his tone gentle and nonjudgmental. “Everyone’s dynamic is just one part of who they are, and it doesn’t define everything about a person. Do you remember learning about this before, or does it still sound unfamiliar?”
Yuuji starts to sweat. “Uh… No.”
Alpha, Beta, Omega…? Seriously? What’s going on? None of this existed in his previous world!
"That’s alright, Yuuji. You’re still young. You’ll learn more about all of this in school when the time comes. For now, just remember it’s something everyone figures out as they get older," the doctor said with an encouraging smile.
“Then… What am I?” Yuuji doesn’t even know how to word it out.
"Actually, you haven't presented yet. That usually happens around age thirteen, when your body naturally reveals whether you're an Alpha, Beta, or Omega. As you get closer to that age, you might start noticing some early signs, but there's nothing to worry about for now."
This is too confusing.
"What about you, Gramps?” Yuuji looks at his grandfather. “What's your, erm, dynamic?"
“You mean, what did I present as?” Wasuke snorted. “I’m an Alpha. That means I’m the one who looks out for you and keeps food on the table, brat.”
“Oh.”
It’s about time, Yuuji muses, faking a smile to show to the doctor. To do some more research on this… new world.
Two days had passed since his hospital visit. In that short time, he’d picked up the basics. And, more importantly, the crucial things that would help him survive in his new life.
Order is everything in this world. Strict, saturated, and deeply integrated into daily life.
Yuuji sat hunched in the quietest corner of the local library, surrounded by shelves heavy with dust and old books. He’d been sneaking here whenever he could, careful not to let his grandfather catch on. Books and records sprawled across the table in front of him, their pages filled with unfamiliar terms and histories.
He was beginning to understand. Here, dynamics—Alpha, Beta, Omega—were as significant as gender or sex. These categories weren’t just labels, but they also shaped society, dictated roles, and were deeply interwoven into law, custom, and even the stories people told. It was a world built on the foundation of these dynamics, so different from what he remembered that it left him unsettled.
Alpha, Beta, Omega. He kept repeating them. The words echoed in his mind, reminders that he truly was somewhere far from home.
Yet, not everything had changed. The rules of Jujutsu, at least, seemed familiar enough. He could still feel cursed energy thrumming beneath his skin, could still see spirits drifting at the edge of sight, and those were proof that some things remained constant. Only now, the influence of these new dynamics lurked beneath the surface, quietly shifting everything he thought he knew.
It’s frightening.
The change scared him so much that he loathes it, yet he had no choice but to accept it. Such as his nature as an old person at heart. With every new fact he uncovered, the reality of his situation hit harder, that he was truly a stranger in a world that wasn’t his own. An alternate universe.
If he were younger, he would be in awe. It’s almost like one of those old sci-fi movies he used to watch with Megumi and Nobara—
He shuts the book he was holding close.
Speaking of…
“No. Focus,” he muttered. “They’re alive. I know it.” If he were here in this world, then Nobara and Megumi had to be somewhere in this world, too. If they remembered anything, they’d find each other eventually. There was no need to rush. He’d learn more about their fate in time.
For now, he needed to focus on studying. Pushing aside his curiosity and impatience, he turned back to his books and kept reading.
According to the news channels and newspapers he’d been reading, everyone in this world was familiar with cursed energy and the existence of the Jujutsu society. Unlike his old world, where such things occurred in the shadows and were only revealed because of a certain mastermind’s intentions, here it was all out in the open. Common knowledge. This has been a basic fact of everyday life. There was no secrecy, no hidden truths. It was as if the reality of sorcerers, curses, and spirits had always been etched into their history books, meant for all to see.
What surprised him most was how easily people accepted it. The presence of cursed spirits on city streets seemed as ordinary to them as traffic or rain. This awareness ran so deep that it felt as though generations had grown up seeing the supernatural as simply another part of life. Over time, the extraordinary had become routine.
It’s amazing, really.
Maybe his old world would have been the same if humanity had centuries to grow used to curses roaming freely. But that possibility was gone. Yuuji was here now, in a new world, and it was up to him to adapt.
He reached for another book from the stack, flipping it open to a section on the world's politics. As he skimmed the pages, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. So much had changed…
“Hah! This world really is weird.”
The four big clans. Four, instead of three.
The Zenin Clan.
The Kamo Clan.
The Gojo Clan. And…
“The Ryomen Clan,” Yuuji murmured, a grin tugging at his lips. “So you’re part of this world too, huh?” His gaze slid over to a group photo of the clan. One portrait stood out, a stern face beneath the title of Clan Head. Yuuji giggles, saying it out loud. "Sukuna Ryomen."
Yuuji gets to work.
He goes over every scrap of information he could find about the clans. Some details stirred old memories, while others were entirely new, a testament to how much this world had changed. No, not changed. Different. With Jujutsu society now public knowledge, everything about it felt layered and complex. Yuuji read on, caught between amusement and admiration at how these families had managed to become so powerful, their influence intersecting into every corner of society.
The Zenin clan, still fiercely traditional, now commanded enormous power in the world of marketing and media. The Kamo clan’s reach extended into international politics and legislation, shaping laws as easily as they once shaped the past. The Gojos were business-focused as well, their name emblazoned on everything from skyscrapers to research labs. The Ryomen clan’s influence ran deep in the shadows, at the heart of the underground network. Despite their differences, the clans shared one thing. They cultivated the best Jujutsu sorcerers, taking promising students under their wing from the moment they showed potential or graduated from one of the many Jujutsu schools.
He had to pause and reread that line. Many Jujutsu schools.
Across the country, dozens of institutions now thrived, each filled with hundreds of young people brimming with cursed techniques or overflowing with cursed energy. The sheer volume of sorcerers was staggering, far more than Yuuji could have ever imagined. He couldn’t help but question how Jujutsu society kept order amid so much potential chaos. With each page he turned, his curiosity grew, mingling with a faint sense of confusion.
The Ryomen Clan, as it turned out, specialized in control and regulation. Sorcerers who remained unaffiliated with Jujutsu schools, like those who were self-taught, independent, or simply unregistered, were required to align themselves with the Ryomen name. Even curse users, if they wished to coexist peacefully, had to operate under the Ryomen’s protection and representation. Infamous for their strength and ruthless reputation, the Ryomen enforced strict order, backed by the support of the other major clans. For those without any affiliation, the consequences were dire. Because unaffiliated curse users were treated as criminals, often imprisoned or executed for their transgressions.
Additionally, this is also backed by numerous laws and regulations. Order is literally everything in this world.
Yuuji hummed to himself, absorbing the gravity of these rules, before reaching for the next book in his growing stack.
He found himself wondering if his own bloodline held any significance in this world. So he heads to the genealogy section and digs into the archives. Hours passed, but his name was nowhere to be found. With the library closing soon, and not wanting to risk his grandfather’s irritation, he called it a night, resolving to continue the next day.
Morning came, and Yuuji returned to the search. It took him over an hour, but finally, he spotted a familiar name. Wasuke Itadori. His grandfather’s name was right there, along with his grandmother’s. Scanning further, he found only one child listed. Jin Itadori. Yuuji paused at his father’s name before moving to the next entry, Kaori Itadori, née Kaori Kamo.
“Huh,” Yuuji muttered, tilting his head. “Was I always Kamo?” He was certain he hadn’t been, or at least, not in his old world. It was a small divergence, but one that stood out. The only Kamo blood in his family, as far as he remembered or considered, came from his brother, Choso.
Speaking of which, Yuuji flipped back to the book of family portraits. There he was. Choso Kamo, listed as the heir to the Kamo Clan. A full human in this world.
Yuuji let out a soft whistle, amazed. “Good for you, big bro.”
He made a mental note to check out the other clan family trees next time, but for now, he turned his attention back to his own ancestry. The Itadori line, he figured, would be less elaborate than the prestigious Kamo clan, maybe even easier to unravel. But as he read on, he realized it was anything but simple. The Itadoris had moved from place to place, their surname changing with each generation. He wasn’t even sure why he felt so compelled to trace their history, only that some instinct told him to keep looking.
And then, finally, he found it…
A thousand years ago, a sorcerer named Gen’ichiro Arashi fathered five children. Yuuji’s ancestor was among them. But it was the sibling listed right beside his own forebear who caught his attention. A child who had changed their name to Ryomen. That decision, perhaps, shaped history. The Ryomen name would go on to become one of the most influential lineages in the modern era and a force throughout the centuries.
Yuuji let the realization sink in. He was, however distantly, related to Sukuna Ryomen himself. Yuuji wasn’t sure what to make of his extremely distant connection to the Ryomen, so he shifted his focus to the Kamo bloodline.
He quickly uncovered several details. His mother, Kaori Itadori, was the youngest of six siblings. Her eldest brother, Noritoshi Kamo, currently serves as the clan head. Turning to recent newspapers for more context, Yuuji learned that his mother had cut ties with the Kamo family after deciding to marry into a commoner household. The Itadori family, despite their ancient link to the Ryomen, was considered insignificant, regardless of the centuries, and whatever trace of power or prestige they once had had faded away. It was likely the Kamo clan either overlooked or never even knew of this distant connection.
So why, back then, were the Kamo reaching out to his grandfather? With Yuuji’s parents gone, there shouldn’t have been any further interest in their branch of the family. Unless…
“I think I get it,” Yuuji murmured. “It’s me. I’m the missing piece.”
The Kamo were as traditional and proud as ever. They had clearly resented Yuuji’s mother for marrying into a commoner family, but as a child born from a sorcerer’s bloodline, Yuuji, her son, might still hold value in their eyes. If there was one thing he’d learned about clans obsessed with lineage and prestige, it was that every potential heir mattered, especially if their dynamic could strengthen the family’s standing.
Still, Yuuji’s mother had severed ties with the clan, so by all rights, none of this should matter anymore. She had left the Kamo behind, and they should have had no reason to involve themselves with her family, unless…
“Gramps,” Yuuji says with finality.
Perhaps it’s time to question the old man.
With that, he returned all the books and newspapers to their shelves and made his way home.
~~~
“Hey, Gramps,” Yuuji called as he stepped into the living room, his gaze sweeping across the space and settling on his grandfather. He caught himself doing this often lately, still not quite used to the reality of finding himself in a world where his grandfather was alive.
“Yuuji,” Wasuke said, eyes narrowing in that familiar way he always did when he suspected Yuuji was up to something. “You went to the library again, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did. Say, Gramps, why do the Kamo keep calling you?”
“I told you, it’s just business,” Wasuke replied, his tone growing gruff as he turned his attention back to the TV. “Quit being so nosy and get back to your homework. You might have amnesia and took a week off, but you still need to go to school and learn.”
He’s avoiding the question.
“But I really want to know, Gramps. Why do the Kamo keep reaching out to you?”
Wasuke stayed silent, hoping that if he ignored Yuuji long enough, the kid would lose interest and wander off to find something else to do. To his surprise, though, Yuuji just sat there, quiet, patient, and oddly persistent. There was something almost unsettling about the way he watched, his gaze steady and unblinking. For a moment, Wasuke wondered if he really was talking to a child instead of an old soul. With a resigned sigh, he finally gave in.
“Because I’m old, brat.”
“And...?”
“And there’s no one else to look after you,” Wasuke said. “That’s why I contacted the Kamo and asked them to take you in. At least until you’re old enough to take care of yourself.”
“But my mother left the Kamo clan.”
“Yes, she did—How did you know that?”
Oops.
Yuuji’s mind is scrambling for an excuse. “Uh… I overheard it. From some old ladies talking in the market,” he lies, eyes darting away.
Wasuke studies him for a heartbeat longer than usual, suspicion flickering in his expression, but he lets it go with a grunt. “Hmph. Your mother left the Kamo Clan, that’s true. But the reality is, if something were to happen to me or if I go sooner than we expect, who’s left to look after you? You’re still just a kid.”
Yuuji remains silent, thoughts running.
“The Kamo are…” Wasuke hesitated, searching for the right words. “They’re a bunch of pompous brats, honestly. Like all the big clans, they only care about your power and what you’re worth to them, not about you as a person. That’s why I made a contract, so you’d only be under their care until you’re old enough or independent. Maybe when you turn eighteen, or finish school. Either way, I made sure the deal puts the final decision in your hands. If you decide you’re ready to stand on your own, they’ll have to accept it. But if you’re still struggling or trying to find your path, they can sponsor you until you’re ready.”
Yuuji considers this, his brow furrowing. “But isn’t that a bit… risky?”
“It’s a double-edged sword,” Wasuke admitted. “But my main concern is your safety and well-being. That’s why I made sure you’d always have the final say. If the Kamo ever tries to use your secondary gender to control you, trust your judgment and don’t be afraid to push back. And when it comes to cursed energy or techniques, remember, it’s your life, and the choice will always be yours.”
Yuuji pressed his lips into a thin line, weighing the implications of Wasuke’s decision. On the surface, having ties to one of the major clans was a clear advantage, especially if he needed to dig deeper into mysteries like time travel or alternate dimensions. But the Kamo clan here was nothing like the one he’d known. In his old world, the Kamo had been dissolved, torn apart by the machinations of an ancient mastermind, Kenjaku, who had once taken the name Noritoshi Kamo and led the clan into chaos. Yet in this world, Kenjaku was not only alive but served as the current Kamo clan head. The situation was far more complicated than Yuuji could have imagined, and the path ahead seemed tangled with uncertainty.
After all, being in the palm of Noritoshi Kamo doesn’t seem appealing.
It’s no wonder his grandfather felt uncertain.
“I see…”
And then there was the question of his own presentation. Would he become an Alpha, an Omega, or a Beta? Yuuji still had a great deal to learn about the intricacies of these societal dynamics and what that meant for his future. Yet at its core, he realized, it was not so different from navigating gender roles and expectations in the workforce of his old world.
“I understand, Gramps,” Yuuji said with resolve, offering his grandfather a genuine smile. “You’re just looking out for me. I could never blame you for making this choice, even if it’s hard, or things don’t turn out the way you hope.”
With that, Yuuji turned away and made his way to the kitchen, the silent taps of his footsteps fading down the hall. Wasuke’s gaze lingered on his grandson, a mixture of wonder and worry knitting his features.
Ever since Yuuji’s accident, something had changed. The boy Wasuke remembered had always been a whirlwind of energy, darting through the house and yard, leaves tangled in his hair, laughter bubbling up at every little thing. But now, Yuuji moved with a strange composure, as if every gesture was carefully thought out. There was a sense of familiarity in the way he spoke and looked at Wasuke, almost too much, as if he knew the old man better than he should. Yet in so many other ways, he seemed a… stranger. It pains Wasuke to think like this. The child who used to chatter endlessly about television characters and would drag Wasuke to street vendors for treats was gone.
In his place was a boy who carried himself with the discipline and stillness of a soldier. And what a terrifying comparison that is. His movements were undeniably measured, deliberate, and almost unsettling in their precision. Wasuke watches him go, a chill creeping down his spine. For the first time, he wondered if the fall had changed more than just Yuuji’s memory.
However, Wasuke found himself a little grateful for Yuuji’s newfound maturity. It had come abruptly, almost unnaturally fast for his liking, but at least it meant he didn’t have to fret about Yuuji being too naive or ill-prepared for the harsh realities that awaited him. Watching his grandson navigate this new world with such composure brought Wasuke both relief and a bittersweet ache.
The complexities of being an Alpha, Omega, or Beta weighed heavily on Wasuke’s mind. Each dynamic carried its own burdens and privileges, and in the wrong circumstances, any could become a curse. He wondered what fate had in store for Yuuji. Genetically, it was likely his grandson would present as either a Beta or an Omega. The Itadori family rarely produced Alphas, and Wasuke himself was an even rarer exception. Life had been unkind to him even as an Alpha, stripping him of the chance to protect his son and daughter-in-law and leaving him filled with regret over his failures as both a husband and a father. No matter which dynamic reigns supreme or is highly favored, it doesn’t matter in the end. Wasuke is a living proof of that, as an Alpha. All he wished now was for Yuuji to have a life marked by security and happiness, regardless of what his presentation might be.
Yet, Wasuke sensed he had little reason to worry. Yuuji’s intelligence and awareness seemed to grow each day, giving him hope that his grandson would not only survive but thrive. After all, Wasuke had raised him, and he was determined to impart every lesson he could, preparing Yuuji to stand strong against a world that could so easily threaten to orchestrate their downfall.
For Wasuke, the memory loss was no setback. It was almost a blessing. If this was the price for Yuuji’s new awareness, Wasuke would accept it gladly, content in the knowledge that he had done his best. He could face his own end with peace, knowing he’d given Yuuji every chance to thrive.
~~~
Atsuya Kusakabe had just finished an intense session in mastering the New Shadow Style. It was a rather hellish day learning a new trick, and thus, deciding he deserved a rare moment of indulgence, he stepped beyond the school's protective barriers. He’s feeling rather indulgent today… Or lazy. But no one needs to know that.
The city’s evening air felt cool against his skin, promising a brief respite, until a ripple of something uncanny brushed against his senses, halting him mid-step.
He stops every movement he’s made, scanning the bustling street and its many vendors, then, after much deliberation, continues on his way.
"Well, that was weird," Atsuya muttered, running a hand through his hair to shake off the lingering anxiety. It was the same pressure he felt whenever a special-grade sorcerer was nearby, the kind of suffocating intensity that surrounded great sorcerers like Satoru Gojo or Suguru Geto during their rare visits to the school for Shadow Style users.
It happened so quickly that Atsuya thinks he’s just imagining things.
Still, the thought that a special-grade sorcerer could be nearby sent a chill down his spine. The possibility that one of them might be out here, indulging in the same leisure as him, was unsettling. The last thing Atsuya wanted was for them to catch him slacking off just because he’d earned a short break after training.
He stopped at a vendor, drawn by the coyingly sweet aroma drifting through the air. Taking a deep breath, Atsuya let himself savor the scent. Being a Beta had its advantages. He could tune out the overwhelming presence of Alphas and Omegas in the crowd, allowing him to enjoy the simple pleasure of good food without distraction.
"Excuse me, could I get one of those, please?"
“Sure thing!”
He stepped aside from the small street vendor, leaving room for the steady flow of customers along the market lane.
As he lingers at the edge of the bustling stalls, that strange, electric prickle of cursed energy brushes past him once more. And suddenly, a surge of cursed energy spiked somewhere amidst the throng of people weaving through the lively street market. The sensation darts across the path, slipping between the brightly colored stalls and the vendors' calls hawking their treats.
Atsuya tensed, focusing his senses to pick out any lingering traces of unnatural energy in the crowd. He knew he wasn’t the type to act recklessly. This city could be unforgiving, and the pulse of cursed energy felt far too dangerous to approach blindly. Still, as a sorcerer, he had a responsibility to report anything suspicious.
Yes. That should be enough. He reminded himself not to get directly involved. Just observe, report, and stay out of trouble.
"Sorry, could you hold that for me? I need to, uhh, step away for a moment."
"Alright, but don’t take too long or it’ll get cold. And don’t forget to come back!"
Atsuya hurries toward the spot where the cursed energy felt strongest, weaving through the crowd with growing urgency. His pulse thunders in his ears at the thought of encountering that overwhelming presence again. The same pressure that had been unmistakably close to that of a special grade. He knew he was outmatched. Neither his power nor his technique was suited for a confrontation with someone (or something) of that caliber. The idea of facing an unregistered special-grade cursed spirit made his skin crawl.
Ugh, just the thought really sent chills down his spine.
He quickly realized he was moving deeper into the shadowy backstreets of the town, running through narrow alleys squeezed between eerie buildings. The further he went, the fewer people he saw, until finally, he emerged into an empty playground tucked away behind the market. The area was barely lit. Just a few flickering lamps that cast long, eerie shadows across the deserted swings and slides.
“Okay, yeah, time to go,” Atsuya muttered, glancing around the empty playground. Only now did it hit him. He’d left his weapon behind, and there was no one else in sight. Even if he wasn’t scared, he knew better than to stick around unarmed when there might be a real threat nearby.
But just as he turned to leave, the sensation struck him again, stronger now, and yet with a distinctly different sensation. Atsuya braces himself—
Nothing.
The oppressive, angry aura that had filled the playground vanished in an instant. Only then did Atsuya realize that what he’d sensed was a cursed spirit, and that sudden, familiar burst of energy could only mean one thing. The cursed spirit was exorcised.
The cursed energy was gone, snuffed out as if it had never existed. What the hell just happened?
Was there another sorcerer nearby, someone experienced enough to hunt down a special-grade curse without leaving a trace? Maybe the spirit tried to escape, and the sorcerer chased it down before it could reach the city. Perhaps there’s a curse placed on this playground, and it just… disappears because of his presence? Either way, Atsuya had clearly stumbled onto something serious.
Movement flickers at the edge of his vision, making Atsuya startle.
Oh.
A child had wandered into the playground, seemingly out of nowhere.
How had he missed this kid’s presence? Atsuya prided himself on his awareness, especially in situations like this. Yet somehow, a boy had slipped right past him, unnoticed.
"Hey, kid," Atsuya calls out, his voice edged with concern as he watches the child approach the dimly lit playground. He wasn’t sure if something lingering in the area might react if the child got too close, or if the strange vanishing of cursed energy required certain triggers. He was just introduced to missions involving curses that require certain conditions to be met, and it was a nasty experience for him. "Don’t go any closer to the playground, okay? It’s not safe. And it’s getting late, so you should head home."
The boy halts and turns, meeting Atsuya’s eyes with a steady, almost untroubled gaze. Despite the chill in the night air, he wore only a t-shirt and shorts, looking entirely unfazed by the cold. The boy’s pink hair fluttered in the breeze, and a small, polite smile curved his lips. “Yes, sir.” Then, he turns around and walks away.
Atsuya studies the boy, slightly intrigued. Most people, especially those without cursed energy, would instinctively avoid a place saturated with lingering danger. Just moments earlier, this playground had been thick with the suffocating presence of a special-grade cursed spirit, its cursed energy crackling in the air. Yet the kid strolled through as if it were nothing, completely unperturbed, almost accustomed to walking in the shadow of curses.
Maybe the boy was simply an odd one. Strangely fearless, but an odd little boy.
Atsuya shakes off the lingering unease and pulls out his phone. The Beta in him is getting agitated. He needed to contact headquarters and report what had just happened. A special-grade cursed spirit appearing this close to town was no small matter. It made sense to request an update on any recent incidents in the area as well. Even if things seemed calm now, this encounter had been far too close for comfort, and the threat it posed couldn’t be ignored.
Atsuya dials headquarters as he retraces his steps back toward the bustling street market, the city’s neon glow growing brighter with each block. Unbeknownst to him, two eyes watched his retreat.
Eyes filled with a complicated mix of nostalgia and sorrow. The brief encounter and interaction between them had revealed something important.
Yuuji let out a soft sigh. "He doesn’t recognize me, huh."
He tucks the information away, resolved to use it later.