Six years ago…
In a greasy spoon diner with a faded sign reading "Pork Knuckle Rice," a young man sat near the wall, halfheartedly picking at his meal with his hands while scrolling through his phone. Suddenly, his face twisted as if he'd bitten into something foul, and a curse slipped out.
"Goddamn it!"
Heads turned. The other diners shot him curious glances. Flushing, he flashed an apologetic grin. "Sorry, my bad."
What had set him off? While munching on his pork knuckle, he'd been doomscrolling Douyin and stumbled across a breakdown of Jujutsu Kaisen's extra pages. Yuta Okkotsu, the pure-hearted warrior, married with kids and now acting head of the Gojo clan? What about Rika Orimoto, cursed to be a monster for over a decade? What was she to him now?
The mangaka, Gege Akutami, had truly outdone himself, shitting the bed with every fan-favorite character. Who else could dismantle their own cast with such ruthless glee? Most bad manga just earned a scoff, but Jujutsu Kaisen's trainwreck was so spectacular, he had to taste the salt for himself.
Opening an illigal site, he skimmed through episodes he'd half-watched since Satoru Gojo's infamous cross-wise. His memory was fuzzy on where he'd left off, but he quickly found new content. And oh, what a sight—it was like a knife to the ass, opening his eyes to new lows.
Aoi Todou, handless but back in action, sporting a prosthetic that looked suspiciously like those clapper toys every kid played with in the '90s. Not just similar—damn near identical. The internet's meme-fueled jokes had apparently inspired Gege for real.
But the absurdity didn't stop there. Yuta Okkotsu, mimicking Kenjaku's technique, body-snatched Satoru Gojo. Complete with those creepy forehead stitches, just like his old pal Suguru Geto. And the fans' unhinged mock-up of Yuta and Gojo's torsos stitched together? It had actually come to pass. Yuta-Gojo fusion, incoming! Forget Jujutsu Kaisen—this was *Neon Genesis Jujutsu now.
Sukuna, hijacking Megumi Fushiguro's body, duking it out with Yuta in Gojo's skin. The plot wasn't just wild—it was downright nauseating. And Jujutsu High? They were already scheming to gouge out Gojo's eyes if he lost, their cold-blooded pragmatism shocking even Sukuna, who was no saint himself. It was so absurd it looped back to hilarious—like a grandma climbing into bed, it cracked him up.
Finishing two chapters, the young man let out a dry laugh. Apparently, when you're pissed and speechless, you do just laugh.
No surprise, "Yuta-Gojo" wouldn't last two more chapters. Who was next for the chopping block? Wasn't Yuji Itadori supposed to die surrounded by allies? With half the sorcerers dead, who'd be left to crowd around him?
Maybe Yuji would unleash a domain, sacrificing himself to revive everyone and take Sukuna down with him, completing the "surrounded by allies" loop. Or perhaps Tengen, the cursed fetus, was the true mastermind, hijacking Sukuna's body. Sukuna, softened by his time with Yuji, might learn the meaning of human bonds, redeem himself, and hop back into Yuji's body. Picture Tengen mocking Sukuna's efforts as mere stepping stones for his own victory, only for Yuji to snap, "Don't you dare mock Sukuna!" A tearjerker Dimensional Slash moment, pure chaos.
At this rate, Jujutsu Kaisen wasn't just raking in infamy—it could be rebranded Naruto Kaisen. Or maybe, like the internet's fake "Jujutsu High enrollment texts," he'd get a message next: "Your turn to fight Sukuna!"
His musings were cut short by a deafening BOOM, nearly rupturing his eardrums. A wall of fire roared toward him, swallowing everything in a blinding flash.
---
"AHHH!"
"Holy shit!"
Fire! It was like the spiciest chili in existence torching every nerve in his body, a searing, tearing agony. Lost in the pain, he barely registered the world around him until a cheerful voice broke through.
"Here's your tonkotsu ramen, enjoy!" (in Japanese)
A waiter with a practiced smile slid a steaming bowl of ramen onto the table. Instinctively, the young man replied, "Arigatou." (Thanks)
Then it hit him. He froze, eyes darting around the restaurant. What the hell?
No way. No freaking way. Where was he? This wasn't Philippines!
The menu on the wall, scrawled with familiar yet unreadable characters, confirmed it. As a seasoned anime fan, he knew exactly where he was: Japan, land of the rising sun. Had the pork knuckle diner exploded? Gas leak? Terrorist attack? Or… had he transmigrated?
No time to panic. PTSD kicking in, he eyed the ramen shop warily, half-expecting it to blow up too. But then he glanced at the steaming bowl. I'm here, I ordered it, might as well eat. No wasting food.
Slurping noodles, he rummaged through his new body's memories. Sulien Daelan, IT engineer at a Tokyo firm. Typical salaryman, living in a suburban single-family home, stuck in a monotonous commute-eat-sleep cycle. "Guess I'm Sulien Daelan now," he muttered, accepting the shift with surprising ease.
Ramen done, Sulien bolted from the shop, eager to avoid any more explosions. On his way home, he passed a dim alley and froze at the sound of a chilling scream.
"Help! No! AHH!" A woman's cry, fading fast, accompanied by the sickening sound of liquid splattering.
Sulien's mind raced. "Seriously? Japan's either pure love or pure depravity, huh?" He'd seen enough "research materials" to assume some kinky daylight rendezvous. Curiosity got the better of him, overriding his better judgment. Just one peek.
He crept closer, heart pounding. But what he saw wasn't a passionate tryst—it was a nightmare. A grotesque, purple-gray creature with a swaying tail crouched over a woman's body, tearing into her as blood pooled beneath. Sulien's scalp prickled, his breath catching.
Evil spirit? Demon? Cursed entity?
His mind spun, but one thought screamed loudest: Run! He held his breath, inching backward, praying not to alert the feasting monster.
No such luck. The creature paused, sniffing the air. Slowly, it turned, revealing a twisted human face, its gaping maw drooling a meter-long cyan tongue coated in viscous slime. The stench of blood and mucus hit Sulien like a punch.
Panic seized him. Like a rabid dog, he spun and sprinted, heart hammering as he fled for his life.