Chapter Text
Truth be told...
Nobody sees death coming until it catches your last breath, until a sudden flash of something you're certain is just your imagination doesn't even get registered hitting you—your comprehensive abilities and mind would crumble before anything else in your body.
Well, that stays true for sudden deaths.
Dying in a hospital in your sleep is less likely to have that feeling; unless someone is dreaming of being taken away like such. And that's just mockery from whatever god is out there if it's the case.
So—
Their thoughts have slotted into something sensible now. They had died, unsure how, or when. Their memories are fuzzy, the details got excruciatingly confusing as the words they've seen written on papers that they caught glimpses of during some of their clearest memories were...incohesive.
Shit, were they illiterate now? Does death do that?
More importantly, why is it so dark in here?
They felt their head resting against something, and almost like second nature, they lifted it.
Their torso followed, legs too as they bent at the joints. They felt a rush of air when they springed up rigidly. Has it been so long since they used their body that every movement lacked fluidity?
That didn't sound right.
“a body” fit...better.
Where are they?
They felt...too calm.
It was, well—
It wasn't them, they shouldn't be so calm about this.
Everything feels too coordinated, as if the movements aren't their own. Their hand rose and brushed a strand of hair from their face, they didn't even know they had such long hair, if that singular piece was anything to go by.
And...oh.
So bright, ow, ow, ow—
Their eyes had flickered open, then shuttered closed at the burning light splashing against their unused irises. God, they were so dry, they need to find eye drops—preferably now.
Looking down at themself, they are met with monk robes. And their...oddly thick socks keeping the sandals on their feet from slipping off. Probably. What terrible taste in footwear—but it was their taste, wasn't it? They promptly grabbed ahold of the edges, pulling the socks further up their legs in an attempt to lessen the constricting feeling they gave off.
Honestly, that felt like their first conscious decision.
Yet it wasn't their body, they noticed. Their eyes raked over their pale hands that kept getting smothered by cloth, revealing a complexion so milky that they briefly considered reincarnation as a mannequin.
That would be, ah...similar to something...they don't remember what. An abbreviation of sorts, three letters...
Great, now they were doing Taboo. They didn't even know their secret word!
They paused, their incongruous hands dusting their clothes out of instinct, which was off-putting as they didn't remember caring about keeping their clothes clean before.
Why did they feel so calm?
It made no sense. In this situation, they're sure they'd normally be panicking, but all they currently feel is a sense of...quiet. Their mind is working idly for the most part, so no energy went into really thinking about their surroundings, only to questioning themselves. That didn't take too much brain power, per se.
Right, they should internally jot down where they are. This is getting too weird even if every emotion in their body seemed dulled by this frankly disturbing memory loss.
“Getoo, hey, hey, Geto!”
A soft and childish voice sneaked its way into their eardrums, though the edges of the words curled like squiggly lines, the voice still sounded as if every word sharpened with something.
They flinched at the familiar voice.
It is familiar, so painfully familiar.
“Did your headache go away already? I'm boreddd," the voice didn't carry a face, but they were sure whoever wore it is pouting.
This person—though their senses tingled with the word thing—called them....they called them Geto.
Geto, who?
They know of only one, and it sure isn't a surname they bore. They don't have any asian origins, they don't think.
The name Suguru Geto felt like peppermint on their tongue, even though they remember quite liking the man.
Or, they just know they did. They don't recall memories of them personally cheering for him, just facts. Facts about the character, the series.
They know of the manga, but they've never touched it, only watched the anime, and their knowledge of the world is mediocre at best.
Maybe they fell asleep in public and got amnesia near a friend from...whatever? They remembered dying clearly—though it could just be a dream, a very disorienting one.
And, maybe they today out of all days decided to cosplay Suguru Geto for fun with them.
They felt their face blank for a moment (had it not been so already?) and their neck craned automatically in the direction where the voice slithered in the air.
They still didn't know where they are, but it became apparent it might be a sort of park; there are trees and benches, clearly littered with desire paths with no intervention from the government to add concrete to the dirt and grass.
Behind a tree they found themselves staring at they sensed a figure.
Holy shit, like...actually sensed someone. Their friend radiated a presence, apparently. One that looked like a splash of water wiggling around...weird...
“Huh,” their vocal cords supplied. The first thing they've said since waking up and that is—
That is not their voice, at all.
Doubt slowly started creeping up their mind when, humiliatingly, with the same amount of dignity of a man who had nothing to lose, they took a hand to squeeze their crotch.
What should've been a moment of euphoria totally was eradicated when the person behind the tree—‘no longer friend, definitely not friend,’ as their thoughts ran wild with theories—popped his head out playfully.
“I think I got a phone, weird glowing rectangle thing, right? Humans are sooo easy to play with when they're glued to them!” the curse rambled, completely unaware of the crisis his acquaintance is experiencing as he popped fully from behind the tree, holding said phone.
Mahito, they felt a shudder run down their spine. The curse looked prettier yet at the same time more uncanny in person, knowing that he isn't human added to that dread as this newborn curse approaches them. Step by step. At least he didn't seem to comment on nor see that previous gesture of lost composure.
The melancholy definitely wore off, and they miss it already! They aren't built for this! With such a surge of emotions, they found themselves taking a careful step back, trying to avoid suspicion.
They definitely are not Geto, not with that thing working under them, or at least that's how the lore went.
‘How come I didn't get reincarnated as, oh, I don't know!’ they whined in their thoughts, keeping a blank expression outside. They knew how to control that, at least. ‘Sukuna? That'd be way cooler, at least I wouldn't have to hang out with this guy!’
They blinked, and suddenly Mahito is waving a hand in front of their face. “Hellooo, earth to Geto?”
‘Don't call me that,’ they almost retorted in their despair, but they made their mouth pause and formulate something else. How did Kenjaku talk again? He definitely didn't say uh and stutter, they definitely have to cut that out of their non-compliant vocabulary.
“Ah,” at least it wasn't uh. “I tend to wander off in thought, there's no cause for concern.” They're pretty sure Mahito didn't exactly care about their well being, but they went with it anyway.
they made a show of shaking their head with an easy smile plastering their face. Mahito's own lit up at that—which would've been cute if the thing didn't confess to potentially murder of potentially multiple people a minute ago.
Mahito mentioned a headache, right?
So, they were either in a very realistic and lucid dream, or Kenjaku died because of a headache and they were forced to take his place because fate or whatever. (Honestly, serves him right.)
‘I don't even know my own name,’ they thought in defeat. ‘Using Geto or Kenjaku makes me a fraud.’ Though they're sure the universe doesn't agree, as Mahito didn't comment on their soul at all. It should change even if the body doesn't, right? Were they getting that correctly?
Eh...
Mahito seemed to drop the topic entirely by how long it took for them to gather their thoughts. “You have to teach me how to use this,” Mahito held out a rectangular—that's definitely a phone. They forgot those are a thing in Jujutsu Kaisen. Are they that rusty with their knowledge?
They clearly remember Gojo taking pictures of Megumi, how did they forget the fact he held an actual phone for that.
They let out a small, amused huff on command, “of course. Use it in moderation, though, modern technology tends to be...awfully addicting.”
It came naturally, said like a true old soul. These definitely aren't Kenjaku's acting skills helping them.
They plucked the phone from Mahito's hands, internally grimacing at the thought of idle transfiguration being used on them.
And, luckily, they can read....they aren't illiterate, yay!
Can the body even be affected if the soul doesn't belong to the body— whatever, as they mentioned, they suck at remembering this universe's world building; If there even is anything regarding that subject at all. They hoped so, and that the answer is, beautifully, “Mahito can't do shit to Kenjaku.”
As they turned the phone in their palm, checking out the layout and most importantly the date, time and place on maps, their fingers paused at the revelation that...
Well, they don't know anything leading up to the show that involves Kenjaku.
They are so, so screwed.
Or, not really. The world is probably safe because of their current incompetence...which doesn't feel as reassuring as they thought it would be.
“Why is it so bright,” Mahito complained when they turned the phone towards him, his eyes squinting at the screen. The curse had been leaning over their shoulder to track how the device works.
That's one thing they can relate to with Mahito—everything is too bright.
They quietly turned down the brightness to a minimum as well as silencing any possible ringtones and vibrations, timely responses be damned. The person Mahito took this from didn't have any contacts, so it must be new.
Disturbingly enough, their morality seemed to stutter at the thought, but not in the way they want to.
They should...probably go on about a way to stop Mahito's bloodthirsty instincts that don't involve him throwing a tantrum and possibly disfiguring them beyond comprehension.
How did Kenjaku not show fear of that thing? Confident bastard, probably.
Wait, did they just....speak and read japanese the whole time, since they're so capable of communicating with Mahito and handling the phone...
Oh.
Oh.
they're thinking in it too.