The faint patter of rain was the only sound that reached him.
Kagetsu Yuzuki stood before a shallow puddle, its surface trembling under each drop that fell from the gray sky. When he leaned closer, his reflection stared back — white hair slicked down by the drizzle, piercing azure eyes that seemed to shimmer with threads of endless blue light.
"...What the hell," he muttered, voice trembling slightly. "Why do I look like—Gojo Satoru?"
The name felt heavy on his tongue. His fingers brushed over his reflection, tracing the outline of that unfamiliar face. Snow-white hair, those ethereal eyes… everything matched perfectly. Even the Six Eyes — he could see the cursed energy in the air, dancing faintly like mist.
He stumbled back, shaking his head.
"No way… Did I… transmigrate into Jujutsu Kaisen?"
The thought alone sent a cold shiver crawling down his spine. He wasn't just any character — he looked like Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the man who carried the weight of an entire world on his back.
The burden of being invincible.
The pain of being alone.
The inevitable battle with Sukuna.
Just thinking about it made his chest tighten. "I don't… I don't want that kind of life," he whispered, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. His fingers met coarse, frayed threads — tattered rags that barely passed for clothing.
His brows furrowed.
"Wait… Gojo's rich. His family's filthy rich. Why am I dressed like a homeless kid?"
He looked around — mountains of garbage, broken machinery, people slumped in the shadows. It didn't look like modern Tokyo, or even the Jujutsu world he knew. It looked like a dump.
"An alternate version… maybe?" he muttered. "Or… something worse."
---
A Life Once Lived
Memories flashed behind his eyes. His past life — Kagetsu Yuzuki. A sixteen-year-old high school student from Tokyo. Kind, soft-spoken, the type of boy who smiled at stray cats and always stayed behind to help clean the classroom.
He remembered the day he died.
A fire — an old apartment complex burning in the night.
He'd been walking home when he saw the flames. He didn't think, he just moved. A child was trapped on the second floor. He climbed through the smoke, carried her out, coughed his lungs raw — and when the roof gave in, he pushed her out the window first.
She lived.
He didn't.
It wasn't a warrior's death, but it was heroic.
He died as he lived — trying to help someone.
And now… here he was.
A ten-year-old with the face of Gojo Satoru, standing in a place that reeked of rot and hopelessness.
---
A rough voice pulled him back to reality.
"Hey, look at that kid."
Yuzuki turned. A group of seven men stood nearby, eyeing him like wolves spotting a wounded deer. Their clothes were grimy, faces unshaven, and their grins made his stomach twist.
"Damn, look at that face," one muttered. "Ain't he beautiful?"
"Yeah, and those eyes…" another whispered, stepping closer. "You ever seen anything like that? Like jewels, man. One of those 'beauties of the world,' like the scarlet eyes from old myths."
Their eyes gleamed.
"Ha… this kid could make us rich. Real rich. Any elder would pay a fortune for him."
Yuzuki's heart sank. He took a small step back, forcing a nervous smile.
One of them — tall, scarred, and missing two teeth — stepped forward.
"Hey, kid. You alone? Where's your mom and dad?"
Yuzuki froze. He could feel the tension, the fake warmth in the man's tone. They're dangerous.
"I'm… waiting for my father," he said quickly. "He's nearby. Doing some business. He'll be back soon."
He forced a little laugh, trying to sound casual. Internally, he reasoned,
> 'I said father instead of mother because father sounds stronger. Maybe they'll hesitate if they think I have someone powerful watching.'
Then another thought crossed his mind, and he mentally winced.
> 'I'm not being sexist… just logical. Sorry, women of the world.'
The men chuckled among themselves.
"Oh, it's not safe here, kid," the leader said, feigning concern. "Bad people hang around this place."
"Yeah," another added, "some real bad ones. You shouldn't be alone."
Yuzuki's smile thinned.
> 'Yeah, I can see who the bad people are.'
"It's fine," he said, shaking his head. "My father's close by."
The man sighed dramatically. "Still, he shouldn't have left you out here. Come on, I'll take you to him." He extended a grimy hand, the false kindness in his tone slipping away.
Yuzuki stared at that hand, his heart pounding.
He knew this wasn't going to end peacefully.
> 'He's not going to give up. I can see it in his eyes.'
So he made his choice.
No more stalling.
He turned and ran.
---
"Hey! The brat's running!"
"After him!"
Yuzuki's bare feet slapped against the muddy ground as he dashed through the maze of trash and twisted metal. His little body was light — faster than he expected — but his lungs burned, and every step sent pain shooting through his legs.
All around him, people glanced up for a moment, then looked away. No one moved to help. They just watched.
"What is this place?" he gasped, heart hammering. "So much filth… no one cares…"
Behind him, the men cursed and shouted.
"He's fast, but he'll tire soon!"
"Don't let him out of sight!"
His breath came in ragged gasps. His legs felt like lead. He could feel his stamina fading fast.
> 'I just got here… and I'm already going to be captured?'
'Maybe… maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe they'll sell me to someone kind…'
He slowed for a second — just a second — and the sound of laughter echoed behind him.
"There it is!" one of the men roared. "He's slowing down! Get ready for a big payday, boys!"
Their shouts filled the air as Yuzuki stumbled forward, the puddles splashing underfoot — the reflection of Gojo Satoru's eyes shimmering in the water as fear, exhaustion, and determination collided within him.
Yuzuki's legs were trembling under him, his lungs screaming for air. Every instinct in his little body screamed that this was it — that no matter how fast he ran, the men would catch him.
Then, like a blur of motion out of nowhere, someone leapt in front of him.
He barely had time to register the figure before the girl planted herself firmly between him and the advancing men. Her back was to him, and in the dim light, all he could see was the outline of her slender frame and the way she held herself — calm, deliberate, and unafraid.
"Who are you?" the man with the crooked smile asked, stepping forward, more curious than threatened.
"Shizuku," the girl said simply.
The man's grin widened again, predatory. "Okay then, Shizuku. This kid's our prey. Move out of the way, unless you want to join him."
Shizuku didn't flinch. She didn't even hesitate. She just tilted her head slightly, studying them with a look that seemed almost… curious.
"No," she said.
The man's grin faltered. His amusement evaporated into a cold, calculating irritation. He gestured sharply to his men. "Take them both. She's a beauty — probably fetches a good price too. Let's get moving."
Yuzuki's heart thumped violently in his chest. She's putting herself in danger for me… he thought, panic and guilt intertwining. He didn't want her to get hurt — or worse, captured like he might be.
He tugged at the hem of his ragged shirt, stepping closer to her. "It's fine," he said hurriedly, trying to sound calm. "You can leave me. I'll be just fine. These men are my… guardians. I'm just playing chase with them."
Shizuku didn't even glance at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the approaching men.
"Blinky."
A vacuum formed in her hand — invisible to Yuzuki and the six men who thought themselves poised for victory.
Then it happened.
In the blink of an eye, the men were gone. Bones cracked, flesh tore, and the sounds of destruction erupted around them — though Yuzuki could see nothing physically strike them. They were all dead.
The man's smirk froze. His eyes went wide, and a chill ran down his spine. "What… what was that?" he stammered, voice shaking. He spun on his heel and ran, leaving his six men lifeless behind him.
Yuzuki could only stare. What just happened?
She didn't even touch them, did she?
Is she… a sorcerer?
The girl crouched down, her hands resting lightly on her knees, and tilted her head at him. Then, almost casually, she reached out and patted his head.
"Cute," she said.
Yuzuki froze. His mind was racing, connecting dots that shouldn't have connected. He had… seen her before. In a manga.
Shizuku. Number 8 of the Phantom Troupe.
And suddenly, it hit him — he wasn't in Jujutsu Kaisen. Not really.
This world… this world was Hunter x Hunter.
He swallowed hard, staring at the piles of trash, the hopelessness around him, and the girl who had just slaughtered six men without lifting a finger. This world is worse than Jujutsu Kaisen, he thought grimly. At least there, the strongest fought on some sense of order. Here… it's chaos. And he was just a ten-year-old boy in the middle of it.